Suncadia

Prologue

Somehow, Fern knew she would be the last for a long, long time.

Everything was in ruins. The castle had been burned to the ground, and Queen Sabaa was gone. People with all different magics laid broken on the forest floor. The snow was brown and red with blood, and fire burned everywhere without fault. The trees swayed precariously, daring each other to come crashing down. The moon was no longer visible in the darkened sky.

Their magic was dying, and Fern knew.

At least there was the children, still tucked away in the bunks of the lodge. The elder magics may have fallen, but the children would continue to grow. They would teach each other and keep learning, they would continue the magic for as long as they lived and further.

But Jace, the only snow-shifter child, would not flourish. He would not grow. The snow-shifters would stay as they were: dead and fallen. Because Fern had dragged Jace into the battle with her.

And he had died.

She took a ragged breath, clearing a knot of her caramel brown curls from her face. Red ran from a wound in her left thigh, and the puncture in her stomach would not heal anytime soon. Fern would never train any new snow-shifters. Jace would never train any new snow-shifters.

They would have to begin again by manifest.

And so, in light of this new fact, Fern weakly pulled a piece of parchment from her pocket. Scribbling a leftover chunk of lead onto it in a series of words, she tucked it into folds and let the unwavering winds take it east.

Fern took a deep breath. She was not ready for the end. But alas, it called, and she was gone. Grudgingly but faithfully.

She sunk into the gathered snowflakes on the ground, the pain vanishing from her memory. Fern disappeared slowly, piece by piece. 

The single snowflake that rose from her body blew away with a gust, and the world grew silent.

The snow-shifters were dead.