Kit spent the next two days exploring the cabin and reading her grandfather's journal. What she found was both fascinating and terrifying.

  According to the journal, her ancestor—Madeleine Lapierre—had stumbled into this forest while fleeing persecution during the witch trials of the 1690s. She'd found refuge in a grove of ancient trees that the locals called the Heart Wood, a place where the barrier between the mortal world and the realm of the fae grew thin.

  The fae had been at war. One faction, led by the Hollow King, sought to drain all life from the forest and the surrounding lands, converting everything into a realm of perfect stillness and silence. The other faction, the guardians of growth and life, were losing.

  Madeleine had made a deal: she would bind herself and her bloodline to the forest, becoming human anchors for the life-guardians' power. In exchange, she and her descendants would be protected, given long life and certain gifts. They would serve as the forest's guardians, maintaining the compact that kept the Hollow King imprisoned.

  But there was a catch. The binding had to be renewed each generation, a ritual that tied the current guardian to the forest and reinforced the prison that held the Hollow King. Miss a renewal, and the compact would begin to fail. Miss too many, and the King would be free.

  Kit's grandfather had been the guardian for seventy years. Now he was dead, and Kit was the last of the bloodline.

  The more Kit read, the more she realized this wasn't some elaborate hoax. The journal was too detailed, too consistent across decades of entries. And there were things in it—descriptions of creatures and places and events—that her grandfather couldn't have invented.

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  On the second night, as Kit sat reading by lamplight, she heard something outside. Not the usual sounds of the forest, but something else—a rhythmic tapping, like fingers drumming on wood.

  She went to the window and looked out. A crow sat on the porch railing, its head cocked at an unnatural angle, staring at her with eyes that glowed faintly in the darkness.

  'Guardian,' the crow said in a voice like rustling paper. 'The forest calls.'

  Kit stumbled backward, her heart hammering. The crow continued to stare at her.

  'I'm not—I haven't agreed to anything yet,' Kit managed.

  'You will,' the crow said. 'The binding is already beginning. Can't you feel it?'

  And Kit realized she could. There was something pulling at her, a tug like invisible threads connecting her to the forest outside. With each passing hour, she felt more aware of the woods—the trees, the streams, even the small creatures that moved through the undergrowth. It was as if the forest was slowly bleeding into her consciousness.

  'What happens if I refuse?' Kit asked.

  The crow's laugh was a harsh caw. 'Then the King rises, and everything dies. The forest first, then the lands beyond. Hollow spreads like plague, child. It doesn't stop until there's nothing left but emptiness and silence.'

  'And if I agree?'

  'Then you give up your old life. You bind yourself to this place. You become part of something greater than yourself, but you lose the freedom to be fully human. You'll live long, guardian, but you'll live alone. The forest demands everything.'

  Kit sat down heavily. 'Some choice.'

  'It's the only choice,' the crow said. 'Your grandfather understood that. In the end, so will you. Tomorrow night. The Heart Tree. Midnight. Be there, or be the last guardian who fails.'

  The crow spread its wings and vanished into the darkness, leaving Kit alone with the lamplight and the weight of impossible decisions.