Welcome to Eida...
The fearsome troll realm awaits you, and I'm sinisterly thrilled to bring into this gritty, magical world of mine. This is a story about a young woman who is sacrificed to the troll realm and forced to fight as the Troll King's mercenary. And in order to survive, she'll have to unleash the monster she's run from her whole life. Hers.
This book is filled with morally grey characters, action-packed battles, angsty slow, slow burn... and I can't wait for you to enter.
I hope you enjoy the first chapter of WELL OF EIDA (THE FALLEN KINGDOMS, BOOK 1)! And when you finish, if you want to keep going, you can get the second chapter for free by joining my reader newsletter or you can grab the full book below!
The fearsome troll realm awaits you, and I'm sinisterly thrilled to bring into this gritty, magical world of mine. This is a story about a young woman who is sacrificed to the troll realm and forced to fight as the Troll King's mercenary. And in order to survive, she'll have to unleash the monster she's run from her whole life. Hers.
This book is filled with morally grey characters, action-packed battles, angsty slow, slow burn... and I can't wait for you to enter.
I hope you enjoy the first chapter of WELL OF EIDA (THE FALLEN KINGDOMS, BOOK 1)! And when you finish, if you want to keep going, you can get the second chapter for free by joining my reader newsletter or you can grab the full book below!
Everyone hides a monster inside. I tore mine from the inside out.
Tib would never get me killed.
Even still, my heart pounds into my sternum with each shallow breath that fills my lungs. An unfamiliar wave of nausea roils in my stomach.
“Aribelle…”
I scrunch my nose and shove my anxiety deep inside myself. “Formalities will get you nowhere, Tiberius.”
He hasn’t used my full name in years. Standing outside, Tib leans farther in through the rough worn window, holding the curtain to the side. His shaded features are nearly impossible to see against the backdrop of night.
“I would do almost anything for you, Tib.” I rub my arms to smother the night’s subtle chill. Or maybe it’s the vision of what he asks of me that crawls over my skin. “But not this. It goes against Bridgewick’s laws.”
“And since when has our village’s laws stopped us?” Tib baits, his voice hushed.
Never. The answer presses against my lips, but I force a hard swallow. “This is different. It’s dangerous.”
The dozens of stories the elders told our village slam into my memory. Vicious, blood-thirsty beasts. Brutal murders. Death’s cold, bitter end. Entering the Enchanted Wood is a death sentence. Unless the elders commission a villager to travel there, it’s strictly forbidden.
Tib lifts his hand and presses his palm against my cheek. Despite myself, I lean my face into it. We’ve been betrothed for four years, and his touch still sends heat through my skin. Though, it took every moment of those years to forge our friendship and for that friendship to grow into something stronger.
I’m not entirely sure when this forced arrangement turned to love, only that it did. My skin tingles, and I swallow. A new wave of heat courses through my cheeks. Thank the stars for the cover of darkness.
“And even if you don’t die,” I glance over my shoulder toward the darkened house where Mother sleeps and lower my voice, “the elders would imprison you for getting one of their trained fighters killed in the forest.”
“Who says we’re going to get killed?” Tib lowers his hand and gives my shoulder a light push. “Besides, we’ve all trained to defend Bridgewick and one day face the dangers of the Well. If you die, there’s more where you came from.”
“Why Tib, do you charm all the girls this way?” My knees ache pressed against the stiff mattress beneath me, my bed wedged beneath the window. Shifting my weight, I slip my feet under my thin blankets. “As tempting as near-certain death sounds, you should leave.”
Tib’s smile slips, and the shadows swathing his face deepen. A veil of melancholy fills my thatch home.
“What is it?” I whisper.
Tib drops his head until his eyes are hidden from mine. Not that I could see them anyway with the moon at his back.
“It’s my mum.” Tib’s hushed voice cracks, a sound as sharp and as brittle as the edge of a broken sword. “She’s ill.”
My reluctance snuffs out like a dying candle. My fear. My anxiety. It’s gone, a flame capped without any oxygen to feed it. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I whisper.
“It’s not for the village to know.”
Rolling back to my knees, I lean toward Tib, leaving only a foot or so between us. I inhale deeply, waiting for his scent to encircle me like a wave of cinnamon on a frosty eve, but it doesn’t come. I try to lift Tib’s chin to meet mine, but he closes his eyes and turns his head away. The moonlight cuts a jagged line over his lips.
“I’m not the village, Tib. You should have told me,” I say. “What is she ill with?”
Tib sniffs, but I can’t see if tears fall. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“If I’m to travel to the Well with you, I need to know why.”
Tib’s body stiffens almost imperceptibly. His lips flatten into a hard line, his fingers clamping tighter around the curtain. “Is it not enough to trust me?”
My chest tightens, and I grit my teeth.
“The stars have no war with us,” Tib recites. “But if they did, we would not fall. Hand in hand. In light or darkness. Together. Isn’t that what we always say?”
I frown and drop my gaze to my fingers knotted together against the windowsill. We made the oath years ago just after our betrothal. It’s frivolous and nonsensical. Yet, it’s brought me peace more than once to remember we aren’t alone. Not really.
“Please don’t abandon me, Ari.” Tib’s voice falters, broken and afraid.
My thumb brushes my ndoa—a tawny mark encircling my bicep. A symbol of my vow to tie myself to Tib.
Since I was ten, I’ve wielded a blade and trained to protect those I love. Every youth in Bridgewick has. My life has been a series of clashing steel leading me to battle. I wipe my slick palms against my worn blankets. I didn’t think battle would come so soon, but one never does.
I glance over my shoulder at the gauzy curtain that separates my room from Mother’s. She stirs softly beneath her quilt. If Mother finds Tib at my window, she won’t hesitate to give him a ripe beating with Father’s old rod. In the shallow moonlight streaming through my window, I can barely make out Mother’s silhouette and the empty space next to her where Father should be.
My throat tightens as my gaze sweeps that empty space. He’s gone. So is my sister. My jaw tenses, and the sting of tears burn behind my eyes as I trace the shadows where their silhouettes should be. The subtle shimmer of their memories has nearly faded. A heavy ache settles in my chest. How could I forget the contours of their faces after only a few years?
Setting my jaw, I smother the emotions. I know how. It was either barricade the memories or be consumed by them. I swallow against my dry throat.
Now, Mother and I only have each other. I glance at Tib. And we have him.
When my world burned, he held my family together. The boy who has seen the hideous ghosts of my past and never left my side. Shutting my eyes, I bury the memories of that night.
My resolve hardens, and I know what I’ll do no matter how stupid or foolish it may be. Tib has stood with me through everything. Now, I’ll stand with him. No one should travel to the Well of Eida, and they especially shouldn’t travel there alone. If Tib truly plans to bargain with the trolls, I will walk with him as far as I can. In the end, though, he’s the one who must pay. Every wish at the Well comes with a price.
I roll my shoulders, forcing them to relax. Tib and I will do this together. He keeps me safe, and I him. I won’t break our vow.
“Why didn’t Caelum talk you out of this?” I ask.
Tib’s twin brother should have at least tried. I sigh. Ever since I rejected Caelum’s offer of marriage for Tib’s, things changed between us. They changed between Caelum and Tib, too. Caelum always looked at us with an envy I tried to ignore. I don’t bother waiting for Tib’s answer.
“You realize you’ll be indebted to me, right?” I shove aside my growing nerves and try to muster some playful teasing into my voice. It falls flat. Traveling to the Well is not done lightly.
It shouldn’t take long to find, nestled at the heart of the Wood, but you never know what the trolls will claim for their price when you arrive. You must be prepared to give them anything.
“I wouldn’t expect anything less. A few days?”
“Try for life.”
Tib scoffs and rolls his eyes—or I assume he does. I can’t see anything but his silhouette and the faint curve of his lips.
“For you,” I say, sobered. “And for your mother.”
The tension slips from Tib’s body, and he creeps away from my window into the darkness. I pull on a pair of calfskin trousers and snatch a few of my blades. No one travels into the Wood unarmed, not anymore. I strap my blades into garters and tighten them against my thighs.
After wrapping my furs around my bare arms, I grab a few waterskins. I swing my leg over the windowsill and pause. Mother’s quiet snores fill our small home like a beehive. She won’t lose anyone else. I’ll return before morning’s light. She’ll never know I left. I blow her a silent kiss and slip out after Tib.
Tib’s footsteps are quiet against the tightly-packed dirt. He darts from one hut’s looming shadow to another—me at his heels—until we reach the edge of Bridgewick. The Enchanted Wood sparkles beneath the moon’s silver light.
Pausing where Bridgewick’s hard earth meets the Enchanted Wood’s lush soil, I stroke a delicate leaf hanging from a silver branch. Residue coats my fingers like stardust, and I smile. It has been too long since Tib and I have dared venture into these woods. We used to visit them daily—they belonged to us. Until, one day years ago, a village elder discovered the Well. He went in, and never returned.
Legends had told of a mortal world that once held magic you could wield. A world we were no longer a part of. We thought magic had been taken from the human realm long ago. Then when the Well arrived, we realized the magic had never left.
The Bridgewick elders commissioned half a dozen men to find him, hoping to learn something. Anything. Only one reappeared years later, but not a day older. His young face was battered and broken; his eyes lost in time. He returned with enough of himself to describe the horrors within the Well, but it wasn’t long before he withdrew from the village and took his own life.
I’ve often wondered where the Well came from, but none in Bridgewick know. And when the news grew too fearsome of the trolls guarding the Well of Eida, our village stopped looking for answers.
My smile slips. Tonight, I have no idea what we’ll find.
My eyes trace the shimmering trees. Regardless of where our journey ends tonight, the excitement whirring through my veins is palpable. I’d almost forgotten how the Wood calls to me at its edge. A piece of its ancient heart tied to mine.
I step over the line separating Bridgewick from the Enchanted Wood, and a familiar warm embrace smothers the remnants of fear in my veins. I sigh, my earlier anxiety evaporating from my skin. Tipping my head to the sky, I imagine my fear floating away—iridescent beads disappearing among the canopy of colored leaves. Soft pinks glow in front of the moon, lavenders twinkle as though made of starlight themselves, vibrant teals sway in the light breeze like the sea. I soak it in.
I have missed the Enchanted Wood.
Tib doesn’t stop to admire the Wood as I do. His steps lack his usual carefree stride and instead are placed with purpose and efficiency.
I wonder what we’ll find at the Well. Monsters? Bones? Tension ripples through my arms. Maybe we’ll meet an elderly troll waiting near the portal accepting tokens for passage. I force a smile through my apprehension. Surely our journey would never end at something so docile. Besides, we all know the trolls have no need for money.
Everyone who seeks a wish from the Well must pay a different price. Maybe the youth of your skin, or a year from your life. You pay for passage into Eida with parts of yourself you can never get back, and then you fight for your heart’s greatest desire. If you return alive, the Troll King will grant your wish.
My gaze slides to Tib weaving along the trail at my side. He hikes without pause and with a confidence I haven’t seen in him before. But my heart races too fast, beats too unsteady. Despite the Wood’s calming enchantment, my heart thrums anxiously. This journey only ends one way: with Tib entering the troll realm. My heart shudders and skips a beat. I worry it won’t end well for him.
Our village prays for those few the elders send to the Well to receive a wish to protect our people and way of life. Only that one has returned. The others have not. Before he died, the man who returned shared pieces of his tale, but the stories were vague and often muddled by his fractured mind. Bloodshed, starvation, illness… and time. Endless amounts of time for those trapped inside. If Tib enters the Well, I don’t know when I’ll see him again. Or if I ever will.
He shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t let him. My jaw ticks, and I force the tightness in my throat to ease. It’s not up to me. He’ll travel to the Well whether I’m with him or not.
I bite down on the thoughts stringing together in my head until they unravel. The ndoa weighs heavy against my arm. I vowed every part of myself to Tib, including my loyalty. Tib is not my husband yet, but still I won’t let him walk this path alone. I can’t. Not after what he’s done for me.
Tib must believe he’s ready to face what waits for us at the Well and within it. A flutter of unease brushes my skin. I’m not so sure.
“What weapons did you bring?” My voice spirals into the darkness, a lone sound among the hushed wildlife.
“Enough.” Tib’s tone is clipped as he places one foot in front of the other.
I grimace at his tone. He may walk with confidence, but his voice tells another story. “You know, we don’t have to travel to the Well. Surely there’s something else we can do for your mother. You have nothing to prove. I think it’s foolish to risk traveling to the Well if we don’t need to.”
My fingertips brush against the hilt of one of my blades, and I cast a sidelong glance into the trees. Just checking. There is honor in traveling to Eida and fighting to protect our people. It’s not without risk, though, neither within the Well nor in these woods.
The moonlight flashes across Tib’s face. His cerulean eyes are darkened with shadow, roiling like a storm-filled sky before the rain. A shiver laces through my spine. The Wood’s shadows elongate his nose and deepen the swells around his eyes. He’s never looked more like Caelum.
“The Troll King won’t grant just anyone’s wish, you know.” I run a hand through my hair. “You must earn it. You must kill for it. Are you ready to have that blood on your hands if there’s another way?”
A muscle ticks against Tib’s jaw. “This is the only way.”
Tib shakes his head before disappearing farther down the path. Tension as thick as sap tightens in my chest. I pin my glare on his shrinking form. Why won’t he see reason? A sharp sensation burrows into my stomach, festering and vile. I shove it away.
I can’t imagine the stress bearing down on Tib’s shoulders tonight. With a sobering inhale, I follow his rigid footsteps deeper into the Wood.
The trail steepens, a slight ascent carving a path ahead of us, when an arctic chill weaves through the Wood. Its icy hand crawls over my skin and reaches my bones. The leaves rustle through the treetops. The hair rises on my arms. I search for the warm embrace I felt when I entered the Wood, but any such feeling has disappeared. Instead of whimsical magic clinging to the surrounding bark, it’s riddled with fear. Rather than cloaks of wonder buoying my heart, I feel Death’s caress.
My gaze snaps toward where Tib climbs, his feet digging small furrows in the earth.
“Tib,” I say, breathless. “We need to leave this place.”
“Are you scared?” Tib’s voice holds a darker tone, and I’m not sure if he’s teasing.
“Of course, I’m scared,” I spit. “Only a fool wouldn’t be. We can find another way to help your mother. These woods have become dangerous.” I glance over my shoulder as the wind quickens, the leaves a symphony of secrets.
Grabbing Tib’s cloak, I tug him back toward the path we’ve already traveled. He whips his arm toward me, breaking my grip.
“I can’t go back!” Tib’s lips are tight, his glare hard and unrelenting. A single breath, and his irritation disintegrates. His shoulders slump forward. “I can’t leave.”
“What’s your plan?” I hiss. “We make it to the Well, you pay the price to enter Eida, and then what? You die in vain trying to save your mother. And then she’ll die, anyway!”
I regret the words the moment they leave my mouth. The Wood’s frosty breath creeps down my spine, and silence swells between us. I swallow the bitterness climbing up my throat. Tib’s doing the best he can—I know that—he always has.
“Your mother wouldn’t want you risking this.” Barely restrained panic trembles beneath my resolve to help. Heat climbs into my cheeks. “The trolls are lethal and violent.” How could Tib forget the lessons we have learned for ages? The one central truth we all follow? “Have you forgotten the most important lesson the elders have ever taught? That my father taught?”
Tib remains silent, his scowl burning a hole at his feet. When he doesn’t respond, I answer my own question.
“Survival, Tib. Survival. You live, and you die. Once you die, you’re done. That’s it. So long as we’re alive, that’s all that matters.”
The night air strokes my skin and makes it crawl. I smother a shiver.
He isn’t going to leave.
Taking a deep breath, I press my palm against Tib’s heart. His body stills. His heart thumps against my skin, the steady beat increasing with my touch. The light breeze rustles the leaves surrounding us, a strand of my dark hair floating around my shoulders. Tib stood at my side during the darkest night of my life. He cradled me in his arms for days, my tears staining his simple tunics and pooling against his shoulders. As the life I knew went up in flames, Tib was immoveable.
I rebury the dark memory deep inside my soul.
“We are in this together, you and me,” I say. “Even had the elders not betrothed us years ago, the stars have aligned for us. You never must face your monsters alone. But I don’t think we should face them here.”
“This is the only way,” Tib grunts.
A muscle works in my jaw. This isn’t like Tib. He’s not usually so stubborn. My gaze roams over his stiff posture, waiting for my answer. He’s different in the Wood tonight, but so am I. I’m never this cautious.
The stars have no war with us, but if they did, we would not fall. Hand in hand. In light or darkness. Together.
Only Tib knows our vow. Only he would recite it to me. Whatever change has wrought in him, it’s still Tib. Frowning, I nod.
“Thanks, Ari.”
With resigned determination, I gesture towards the trail, and Tib starts off again. The soil shifts to loose gravel beneath my boots as we carry ourselves deeper into the Wood. A cold sweat trickles between my shoulder blades. No matter how fast my blood pulses, I can’t shake the chill in my bones. The icy whisper that says we shouldn’t be here.
Forcing the thought from my head, I place my steps with precision, still losing at least half the ground I gain with each footfall. The gravel clatters down the steep slope, an unintentional warning for all the surrounding creatures.
If our intent was to surprise the trolls, we’ve failed. They’ll have heard us from miles away. A restless anxiety sinks deep into my stomach.
Before long, we reach a sharp turn in our path. Instead of following the trail, Tib presses forward through the trees. I stalk after him, restraining the thick branches from snagging my cloak and tugging at my hair. This grove of trees curves inward, their trunks twisting and mangled. I make a mental note of their shape so I can find my way back to Bridgewick when we finish here. I swallow the lump forming in my throat. Tib won’t be returning with me.
It doesn’t take long before we emerge onto a new path, the gravel replaced by violet soil. The clamor of color from the Enchanted Wood’s edge has all but disappeared as we are submerged into an array of violets. Wisteria hangs in long strands from the treetops. Violet orchids and irises line the mauve soil we tread on. Even the patches of sky peeking between the trees carry a lavender tint.
Tib stalks onward, his gait not once slowing to admire the Wood. I crouch near the edge of the trail and caress a blossom between my fingertips before brushing it aside. The shadows behind it seem to sway back and forth like switchgrass, the lighter parts reflecting the violet tint of the Wood.
I’ve stepped into a fairytale.
An aching nostalgia loosens the ever-tightening knot in my chest, if just for a moment. For a single heartbeat, I’m back in the Wood as it was years ago—magical and exotic. Tib and I used to hunt for fairies among these trees, though we’d never traveled this particular path before.
I glance to where Tib presses ahead. The nostalgia ripens and rots as reality crashes around me again. The woods still glisten like the fabled memory from my past, but my light-hearted anticipation has grown heavy with dread.
We don’t speak as we follow the trail, as though this part of the Wood is too sacred to defile with words. The path carries us from a world of violets through a tunnel of greens, a forest made up of every shade of red, and a river crossing as orange as the sunset. Only when the colors dull and become muted, do our footsteps halt.
Shadows bathe a wide, round meadow. A creek trickles around stones and past long blades of sedge grass, gurgling quietly in its calm passage. A small garden bridge arches over the creek.
This meadow could be beautiful if it weren’t for the Well sitting at the other end of the meadow at the head of the brook.
My heart thunders, and my ears drum with its laden pulse. My head swells as the blood rushes to my brain.
We shouldn’t be here.
I place my warm palm against my clammy forehead.
Magic froths from the Well like water, pouring softly into the creek and meandering beneath the bridge. One whispered wish, and the portal will open for Tib.
I shiver, and my throat grows dry.
“Tib,” I whisper, resting my hand on his arm.
Tib rolls his arm out from under my touch. His shoulders rise to meet his ears as he draws in a heavy breath and releases it. Without offering any encouragement to me, he steps down the pebbled path.
When Tib whispers his desire into the Well, he’ll have to pay the price to enter Eida to fight for it. No one knows what the cost to enter will be until after the wish has been made. By then, it’s too late to change your mind.
My blood crawls through my veins, thick and frozen. I strain to hear snapping twigs or labored breathing, but all I hear is the pounding of my own heart. This is wrong.
Tib climbs to the center of the garden bridge that overlooks the meadow and rests his hands on its railing as though overlooking a beautiful kingdom. His knuckles drum against the wood mindlessly. Once. Twice. Three times. Where is his fear?
I follow much slower, keeping an eye out for trolls lurking in the shadows. The bridge creaks as I step onto the wood, but I don’t dare climb to its peak. Tib’s eyes flicker to mine, irritation and sadness painting his ashen irises. Ashen, not blue. I suck in a breath.
The price at the Well could be anything—even the color of your eyes.
“Tib?” I ask, my nerves electrifying. My feet slip from the bridge’s slick wood, and I step back onto the soil. The air in my lungs is sculpted from ice, cracking and spitting under the pressure of my panic. My words rush out in a breathless exhale. “Have you been here before?”
He doesn’t get the chance to answer.
A loud clap splits the air. The small creek explodes, and a torrent of water cascades around us like a waterfall. My eyes widen, my breath completely stolen. Grey, dimpled skin covers the troll who has materialized from the creek. He gathers his footing, and my own legs tremble as he climbs from the creek, shaking the earth beneath his heavy steps. A scrap of muddied cloth covers his torso and legs.
My gaze locks on the creature. He towers over Tib and me as he climbs the bridge, his body a few feet larger in every direction than a man, and I’m frozen with fear. I swallow against the desert forming in my throat. I’m here for Tib. I’m here for his mother. I won’t leave him alone in this. With a shaking hand, I draw my sword.
“You have returned?” The troll bellows.
“Returned?” I whisper. Tib has been here.
Tib ignores me and stares at the towering troll. “I have brought the price you have asked. A girl with fire in her blood.”
My heart turns to stone. What type of deal requires him offering the color of his eyes and… me?
The troll’s meaty hands grasp onto the bridge’s railing—the wood moaning beneath his weight—and he leans over to me and inhales deeply through his nose.
I step back from the troll, too paralyzed to do anything more.
“I’m sorry, Ari,” Tib whispers, unable to look at me like the coward he is.
The troll grunts. “Is this her?”
“No,” I whisper. Tears gather in my eyes. He would never get me killed and yet, hand in hand. In light or darkness. Together. He’s brought me to the Well. An aching, crushing weight collapses onto my chest. Everything he said was a lie.
“Yes,” Tib says.
My fear shatters. I spin on my heel and bolt for the tree cover, but it’s too late. The troll snatches my wrist, and in a single movement throws me into the meadow. Wind claws through my hair. The small stream’s spray is an icy bite against my skin as I smash into the bank and skid through the water.
My lungs burn, but I can’t suck in a decent breath. Panic thrums through my chest, but I can’t think. Can’t breathe.
The air crackles and snaps around me. More trolls materialize into the meadow. I scramble for a solid footing to run, but it’s fruitless. Thick-skinned hands grope my body. Cold. Ruthless. I gulp a strangling breath, and a raw scream tears from my throat. Dozens of hands are over me. They tie ropes around my wrists and legs and fasten a gag between my lips.
I scream anyway.
Tears roll down my cheeks, and I scream for help. I scream at Tib. I scream because despite all my training, I know I’m going to die.
My blurred vision finds Tib’s back at the edge of the meadow. He’s returning to the Enchanted Wood.
He’s abandoning me.
One of the trolls lifts the rope attached to my feet and coils it around his hand. With a sharp tug, he drags me through the creek toward the Well. I thrash against the restraints, but I’m not strong enough. My screams turn into whimpers.
Trolls fizzle from thin air until they surround the entire Well. Their voices chant low in a language I don’t understand, growing louder with each passing moment. Rough hands chafe my skin as I’m lifted from the ground.
My breathing grows shallow, and my panic sets in. I thrash against their iron-shackle grips and scream. It does nothing. Soon, I’m suspended above the Well’s mouth, flashing lights pulsing within. The trolls’ chanting cuts off.
Silence fills the meadow, haunted by the echo of their voices. Slowly, the hands tilt toward the Well, and I slip.
A scream tears from my throat, and I tumble straight into the troll realm.
Even still, my heart pounds into my sternum with each shallow breath that fills my lungs. An unfamiliar wave of nausea roils in my stomach.
“Aribelle…”
I scrunch my nose and shove my anxiety deep inside myself. “Formalities will get you nowhere, Tiberius.”
He hasn’t used my full name in years. Standing outside, Tib leans farther in through the rough worn window, holding the curtain to the side. His shaded features are nearly impossible to see against the backdrop of night.
“I would do almost anything for you, Tib.” I rub my arms to smother the night’s subtle chill. Or maybe it’s the vision of what he asks of me that crawls over my skin. “But not this. It goes against Bridgewick’s laws.”
“And since when has our village’s laws stopped us?” Tib baits, his voice hushed.
Never. The answer presses against my lips, but I force a hard swallow. “This is different. It’s dangerous.”
The dozens of stories the elders told our village slam into my memory. Vicious, blood-thirsty beasts. Brutal murders. Death’s cold, bitter end. Entering the Enchanted Wood is a death sentence. Unless the elders commission a villager to travel there, it’s strictly forbidden.
Tib lifts his hand and presses his palm against my cheek. Despite myself, I lean my face into it. We’ve been betrothed for four years, and his touch still sends heat through my skin. Though, it took every moment of those years to forge our friendship and for that friendship to grow into something stronger.
I’m not entirely sure when this forced arrangement turned to love, only that it did. My skin tingles, and I swallow. A new wave of heat courses through my cheeks. Thank the stars for the cover of darkness.
“And even if you don’t die,” I glance over my shoulder toward the darkened house where Mother sleeps and lower my voice, “the elders would imprison you for getting one of their trained fighters killed in the forest.”
“Who says we’re going to get killed?” Tib lowers his hand and gives my shoulder a light push. “Besides, we’ve all trained to defend Bridgewick and one day face the dangers of the Well. If you die, there’s more where you came from.”
“Why Tib, do you charm all the girls this way?” My knees ache pressed against the stiff mattress beneath me, my bed wedged beneath the window. Shifting my weight, I slip my feet under my thin blankets. “As tempting as near-certain death sounds, you should leave.”
Tib’s smile slips, and the shadows swathing his face deepen. A veil of melancholy fills my thatch home.
“What is it?” I whisper.
Tib drops his head until his eyes are hidden from mine. Not that I could see them anyway with the moon at his back.
“It’s my mum.” Tib’s hushed voice cracks, a sound as sharp and as brittle as the edge of a broken sword. “She’s ill.”
My reluctance snuffs out like a dying candle. My fear. My anxiety. It’s gone, a flame capped without any oxygen to feed it. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I whisper.
“It’s not for the village to know.”
Rolling back to my knees, I lean toward Tib, leaving only a foot or so between us. I inhale deeply, waiting for his scent to encircle me like a wave of cinnamon on a frosty eve, but it doesn’t come. I try to lift Tib’s chin to meet mine, but he closes his eyes and turns his head away. The moonlight cuts a jagged line over his lips.
“I’m not the village, Tib. You should have told me,” I say. “What is she ill with?”
Tib sniffs, but I can’t see if tears fall. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“If I’m to travel to the Well with you, I need to know why.”
Tib’s body stiffens almost imperceptibly. His lips flatten into a hard line, his fingers clamping tighter around the curtain. “Is it not enough to trust me?”
My chest tightens, and I grit my teeth.
“The stars have no war with us,” Tib recites. “But if they did, we would not fall. Hand in hand. In light or darkness. Together. Isn’t that what we always say?”
I frown and drop my gaze to my fingers knotted together against the windowsill. We made the oath years ago just after our betrothal. It’s frivolous and nonsensical. Yet, it’s brought me peace more than once to remember we aren’t alone. Not really.
“Please don’t abandon me, Ari.” Tib’s voice falters, broken and afraid.
My thumb brushes my ndoa—a tawny mark encircling my bicep. A symbol of my vow to tie myself to Tib.
Since I was ten, I’ve wielded a blade and trained to protect those I love. Every youth in Bridgewick has. My life has been a series of clashing steel leading me to battle. I wipe my slick palms against my worn blankets. I didn’t think battle would come so soon, but one never does.
I glance over my shoulder at the gauzy curtain that separates my room from Mother’s. She stirs softly beneath her quilt. If Mother finds Tib at my window, she won’t hesitate to give him a ripe beating with Father’s old rod. In the shallow moonlight streaming through my window, I can barely make out Mother’s silhouette and the empty space next to her where Father should be.
My throat tightens as my gaze sweeps that empty space. He’s gone. So is my sister. My jaw tenses, and the sting of tears burn behind my eyes as I trace the shadows where their silhouettes should be. The subtle shimmer of their memories has nearly faded. A heavy ache settles in my chest. How could I forget the contours of their faces after only a few years?
Setting my jaw, I smother the emotions. I know how. It was either barricade the memories or be consumed by them. I swallow against my dry throat.
Now, Mother and I only have each other. I glance at Tib. And we have him.
When my world burned, he held my family together. The boy who has seen the hideous ghosts of my past and never left my side. Shutting my eyes, I bury the memories of that night.
My resolve hardens, and I know what I’ll do no matter how stupid or foolish it may be. Tib has stood with me through everything. Now, I’ll stand with him. No one should travel to the Well of Eida, and they especially shouldn’t travel there alone. If Tib truly plans to bargain with the trolls, I will walk with him as far as I can. In the end, though, he’s the one who must pay. Every wish at the Well comes with a price.
I roll my shoulders, forcing them to relax. Tib and I will do this together. He keeps me safe, and I him. I won’t break our vow.
“Why didn’t Caelum talk you out of this?” I ask.
Tib’s twin brother should have at least tried. I sigh. Ever since I rejected Caelum’s offer of marriage for Tib’s, things changed between us. They changed between Caelum and Tib, too. Caelum always looked at us with an envy I tried to ignore. I don’t bother waiting for Tib’s answer.
“You realize you’ll be indebted to me, right?” I shove aside my growing nerves and try to muster some playful teasing into my voice. It falls flat. Traveling to the Well is not done lightly.
It shouldn’t take long to find, nestled at the heart of the Wood, but you never know what the trolls will claim for their price when you arrive. You must be prepared to give them anything.
“I wouldn’t expect anything less. A few days?”
“Try for life.”
Tib scoffs and rolls his eyes—or I assume he does. I can’t see anything but his silhouette and the faint curve of his lips.
“For you,” I say, sobered. “And for your mother.”
The tension slips from Tib’s body, and he creeps away from my window into the darkness. I pull on a pair of calfskin trousers and snatch a few of my blades. No one travels into the Wood unarmed, not anymore. I strap my blades into garters and tighten them against my thighs.
After wrapping my furs around my bare arms, I grab a few waterskins. I swing my leg over the windowsill and pause. Mother’s quiet snores fill our small home like a beehive. She won’t lose anyone else. I’ll return before morning’s light. She’ll never know I left. I blow her a silent kiss and slip out after Tib.
Tib’s footsteps are quiet against the tightly-packed dirt. He darts from one hut’s looming shadow to another—me at his heels—until we reach the edge of Bridgewick. The Enchanted Wood sparkles beneath the moon’s silver light.
Pausing where Bridgewick’s hard earth meets the Enchanted Wood’s lush soil, I stroke a delicate leaf hanging from a silver branch. Residue coats my fingers like stardust, and I smile. It has been too long since Tib and I have dared venture into these woods. We used to visit them daily—they belonged to us. Until, one day years ago, a village elder discovered the Well. He went in, and never returned.
Legends had told of a mortal world that once held magic you could wield. A world we were no longer a part of. We thought magic had been taken from the human realm long ago. Then when the Well arrived, we realized the magic had never left.
The Bridgewick elders commissioned half a dozen men to find him, hoping to learn something. Anything. Only one reappeared years later, but not a day older. His young face was battered and broken; his eyes lost in time. He returned with enough of himself to describe the horrors within the Well, but it wasn’t long before he withdrew from the village and took his own life.
I’ve often wondered where the Well came from, but none in Bridgewick know. And when the news grew too fearsome of the trolls guarding the Well of Eida, our village stopped looking for answers.
My smile slips. Tonight, I have no idea what we’ll find.
My eyes trace the shimmering trees. Regardless of where our journey ends tonight, the excitement whirring through my veins is palpable. I’d almost forgotten how the Wood calls to me at its edge. A piece of its ancient heart tied to mine.
I step over the line separating Bridgewick from the Enchanted Wood, and a familiar warm embrace smothers the remnants of fear in my veins. I sigh, my earlier anxiety evaporating from my skin. Tipping my head to the sky, I imagine my fear floating away—iridescent beads disappearing among the canopy of colored leaves. Soft pinks glow in front of the moon, lavenders twinkle as though made of starlight themselves, vibrant teals sway in the light breeze like the sea. I soak it in.
I have missed the Enchanted Wood.
Tib doesn’t stop to admire the Wood as I do. His steps lack his usual carefree stride and instead are placed with purpose and efficiency.
I wonder what we’ll find at the Well. Monsters? Bones? Tension ripples through my arms. Maybe we’ll meet an elderly troll waiting near the portal accepting tokens for passage. I force a smile through my apprehension. Surely our journey would never end at something so docile. Besides, we all know the trolls have no need for money.
Everyone who seeks a wish from the Well must pay a different price. Maybe the youth of your skin, or a year from your life. You pay for passage into Eida with parts of yourself you can never get back, and then you fight for your heart’s greatest desire. If you return alive, the Troll King will grant your wish.
My gaze slides to Tib weaving along the trail at my side. He hikes without pause and with a confidence I haven’t seen in him before. But my heart races too fast, beats too unsteady. Despite the Wood’s calming enchantment, my heart thrums anxiously. This journey only ends one way: with Tib entering the troll realm. My heart shudders and skips a beat. I worry it won’t end well for him.
Our village prays for those few the elders send to the Well to receive a wish to protect our people and way of life. Only that one has returned. The others have not. Before he died, the man who returned shared pieces of his tale, but the stories were vague and often muddled by his fractured mind. Bloodshed, starvation, illness… and time. Endless amounts of time for those trapped inside. If Tib enters the Well, I don’t know when I’ll see him again. Or if I ever will.
He shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t let him. My jaw ticks, and I force the tightness in my throat to ease. It’s not up to me. He’ll travel to the Well whether I’m with him or not.
I bite down on the thoughts stringing together in my head until they unravel. The ndoa weighs heavy against my arm. I vowed every part of myself to Tib, including my loyalty. Tib is not my husband yet, but still I won’t let him walk this path alone. I can’t. Not after what he’s done for me.
Tib must believe he’s ready to face what waits for us at the Well and within it. A flutter of unease brushes my skin. I’m not so sure.
“What weapons did you bring?” My voice spirals into the darkness, a lone sound among the hushed wildlife.
“Enough.” Tib’s tone is clipped as he places one foot in front of the other.
I grimace at his tone. He may walk with confidence, but his voice tells another story. “You know, we don’t have to travel to the Well. Surely there’s something else we can do for your mother. You have nothing to prove. I think it’s foolish to risk traveling to the Well if we don’t need to.”
My fingertips brush against the hilt of one of my blades, and I cast a sidelong glance into the trees. Just checking. There is honor in traveling to Eida and fighting to protect our people. It’s not without risk, though, neither within the Well nor in these woods.
The moonlight flashes across Tib’s face. His cerulean eyes are darkened with shadow, roiling like a storm-filled sky before the rain. A shiver laces through my spine. The Wood’s shadows elongate his nose and deepen the swells around his eyes. He’s never looked more like Caelum.
“The Troll King won’t grant just anyone’s wish, you know.” I run a hand through my hair. “You must earn it. You must kill for it. Are you ready to have that blood on your hands if there’s another way?”
A muscle ticks against Tib’s jaw. “This is the only way.”
Tib shakes his head before disappearing farther down the path. Tension as thick as sap tightens in my chest. I pin my glare on his shrinking form. Why won’t he see reason? A sharp sensation burrows into my stomach, festering and vile. I shove it away.
I can’t imagine the stress bearing down on Tib’s shoulders tonight. With a sobering inhale, I follow his rigid footsteps deeper into the Wood.
The trail steepens, a slight ascent carving a path ahead of us, when an arctic chill weaves through the Wood. Its icy hand crawls over my skin and reaches my bones. The leaves rustle through the treetops. The hair rises on my arms. I search for the warm embrace I felt when I entered the Wood, but any such feeling has disappeared. Instead of whimsical magic clinging to the surrounding bark, it’s riddled with fear. Rather than cloaks of wonder buoying my heart, I feel Death’s caress.
My gaze snaps toward where Tib climbs, his feet digging small furrows in the earth.
“Tib,” I say, breathless. “We need to leave this place.”
“Are you scared?” Tib’s voice holds a darker tone, and I’m not sure if he’s teasing.
“Of course, I’m scared,” I spit. “Only a fool wouldn’t be. We can find another way to help your mother. These woods have become dangerous.” I glance over my shoulder as the wind quickens, the leaves a symphony of secrets.
Grabbing Tib’s cloak, I tug him back toward the path we’ve already traveled. He whips his arm toward me, breaking my grip.
“I can’t go back!” Tib’s lips are tight, his glare hard and unrelenting. A single breath, and his irritation disintegrates. His shoulders slump forward. “I can’t leave.”
“What’s your plan?” I hiss. “We make it to the Well, you pay the price to enter Eida, and then what? You die in vain trying to save your mother. And then she’ll die, anyway!”
I regret the words the moment they leave my mouth. The Wood’s frosty breath creeps down my spine, and silence swells between us. I swallow the bitterness climbing up my throat. Tib’s doing the best he can—I know that—he always has.
“Your mother wouldn’t want you risking this.” Barely restrained panic trembles beneath my resolve to help. Heat climbs into my cheeks. “The trolls are lethal and violent.” How could Tib forget the lessons we have learned for ages? The one central truth we all follow? “Have you forgotten the most important lesson the elders have ever taught? That my father taught?”
Tib remains silent, his scowl burning a hole at his feet. When he doesn’t respond, I answer my own question.
“Survival, Tib. Survival. You live, and you die. Once you die, you’re done. That’s it. So long as we’re alive, that’s all that matters.”
The night air strokes my skin and makes it crawl. I smother a shiver.
He isn’t going to leave.
Taking a deep breath, I press my palm against Tib’s heart. His body stills. His heart thumps against my skin, the steady beat increasing with my touch. The light breeze rustles the leaves surrounding us, a strand of my dark hair floating around my shoulders. Tib stood at my side during the darkest night of my life. He cradled me in his arms for days, my tears staining his simple tunics and pooling against his shoulders. As the life I knew went up in flames, Tib was immoveable.
I rebury the dark memory deep inside my soul.
“We are in this together, you and me,” I say. “Even had the elders not betrothed us years ago, the stars have aligned for us. You never must face your monsters alone. But I don’t think we should face them here.”
“This is the only way,” Tib grunts.
A muscle works in my jaw. This isn’t like Tib. He’s not usually so stubborn. My gaze roams over his stiff posture, waiting for my answer. He’s different in the Wood tonight, but so am I. I’m never this cautious.
The stars have no war with us, but if they did, we would not fall. Hand in hand. In light or darkness. Together.
Only Tib knows our vow. Only he would recite it to me. Whatever change has wrought in him, it’s still Tib. Frowning, I nod.
“Thanks, Ari.”
With resigned determination, I gesture towards the trail, and Tib starts off again. The soil shifts to loose gravel beneath my boots as we carry ourselves deeper into the Wood. A cold sweat trickles between my shoulder blades. No matter how fast my blood pulses, I can’t shake the chill in my bones. The icy whisper that says we shouldn’t be here.
Forcing the thought from my head, I place my steps with precision, still losing at least half the ground I gain with each footfall. The gravel clatters down the steep slope, an unintentional warning for all the surrounding creatures.
If our intent was to surprise the trolls, we’ve failed. They’ll have heard us from miles away. A restless anxiety sinks deep into my stomach.
Before long, we reach a sharp turn in our path. Instead of following the trail, Tib presses forward through the trees. I stalk after him, restraining the thick branches from snagging my cloak and tugging at my hair. This grove of trees curves inward, their trunks twisting and mangled. I make a mental note of their shape so I can find my way back to Bridgewick when we finish here. I swallow the lump forming in my throat. Tib won’t be returning with me.
It doesn’t take long before we emerge onto a new path, the gravel replaced by violet soil. The clamor of color from the Enchanted Wood’s edge has all but disappeared as we are submerged into an array of violets. Wisteria hangs in long strands from the treetops. Violet orchids and irises line the mauve soil we tread on. Even the patches of sky peeking between the trees carry a lavender tint.
Tib stalks onward, his gait not once slowing to admire the Wood. I crouch near the edge of the trail and caress a blossom between my fingertips before brushing it aside. The shadows behind it seem to sway back and forth like switchgrass, the lighter parts reflecting the violet tint of the Wood.
I’ve stepped into a fairytale.
An aching nostalgia loosens the ever-tightening knot in my chest, if just for a moment. For a single heartbeat, I’m back in the Wood as it was years ago—magical and exotic. Tib and I used to hunt for fairies among these trees, though we’d never traveled this particular path before.
I glance to where Tib presses ahead. The nostalgia ripens and rots as reality crashes around me again. The woods still glisten like the fabled memory from my past, but my light-hearted anticipation has grown heavy with dread.
We don’t speak as we follow the trail, as though this part of the Wood is too sacred to defile with words. The path carries us from a world of violets through a tunnel of greens, a forest made up of every shade of red, and a river crossing as orange as the sunset. Only when the colors dull and become muted, do our footsteps halt.
Shadows bathe a wide, round meadow. A creek trickles around stones and past long blades of sedge grass, gurgling quietly in its calm passage. A small garden bridge arches over the creek.
This meadow could be beautiful if it weren’t for the Well sitting at the other end of the meadow at the head of the brook.
My heart thunders, and my ears drum with its laden pulse. My head swells as the blood rushes to my brain.
We shouldn’t be here.
I place my warm palm against my clammy forehead.
Magic froths from the Well like water, pouring softly into the creek and meandering beneath the bridge. One whispered wish, and the portal will open for Tib.
I shiver, and my throat grows dry.
“Tib,” I whisper, resting my hand on his arm.
Tib rolls his arm out from under my touch. His shoulders rise to meet his ears as he draws in a heavy breath and releases it. Without offering any encouragement to me, he steps down the pebbled path.
When Tib whispers his desire into the Well, he’ll have to pay the price to enter Eida to fight for it. No one knows what the cost to enter will be until after the wish has been made. By then, it’s too late to change your mind.
My blood crawls through my veins, thick and frozen. I strain to hear snapping twigs or labored breathing, but all I hear is the pounding of my own heart. This is wrong.
Tib climbs to the center of the garden bridge that overlooks the meadow and rests his hands on its railing as though overlooking a beautiful kingdom. His knuckles drum against the wood mindlessly. Once. Twice. Three times. Where is his fear?
I follow much slower, keeping an eye out for trolls lurking in the shadows. The bridge creaks as I step onto the wood, but I don’t dare climb to its peak. Tib’s eyes flicker to mine, irritation and sadness painting his ashen irises. Ashen, not blue. I suck in a breath.
The price at the Well could be anything—even the color of your eyes.
“Tib?” I ask, my nerves electrifying. My feet slip from the bridge’s slick wood, and I step back onto the soil. The air in my lungs is sculpted from ice, cracking and spitting under the pressure of my panic. My words rush out in a breathless exhale. “Have you been here before?”
He doesn’t get the chance to answer.
A loud clap splits the air. The small creek explodes, and a torrent of water cascades around us like a waterfall. My eyes widen, my breath completely stolen. Grey, dimpled skin covers the troll who has materialized from the creek. He gathers his footing, and my own legs tremble as he climbs from the creek, shaking the earth beneath his heavy steps. A scrap of muddied cloth covers his torso and legs.
My gaze locks on the creature. He towers over Tib and me as he climbs the bridge, his body a few feet larger in every direction than a man, and I’m frozen with fear. I swallow against the desert forming in my throat. I’m here for Tib. I’m here for his mother. I won’t leave him alone in this. With a shaking hand, I draw my sword.
“You have returned?” The troll bellows.
“Returned?” I whisper. Tib has been here.
Tib ignores me and stares at the towering troll. “I have brought the price you have asked. A girl with fire in her blood.”
My heart turns to stone. What type of deal requires him offering the color of his eyes and… me?
The troll’s meaty hands grasp onto the bridge’s railing—the wood moaning beneath his weight—and he leans over to me and inhales deeply through his nose.
I step back from the troll, too paralyzed to do anything more.
“I’m sorry, Ari,” Tib whispers, unable to look at me like the coward he is.
The troll grunts. “Is this her?”
“No,” I whisper. Tears gather in my eyes. He would never get me killed and yet, hand in hand. In light or darkness. Together. He’s brought me to the Well. An aching, crushing weight collapses onto my chest. Everything he said was a lie.
“Yes,” Tib says.
My fear shatters. I spin on my heel and bolt for the tree cover, but it’s too late. The troll snatches my wrist, and in a single movement throws me into the meadow. Wind claws through my hair. The small stream’s spray is an icy bite against my skin as I smash into the bank and skid through the water.
My lungs burn, but I can’t suck in a decent breath. Panic thrums through my chest, but I can’t think. Can’t breathe.
The air crackles and snaps around me. More trolls materialize into the meadow. I scramble for a solid footing to run, but it’s fruitless. Thick-skinned hands grope my body. Cold. Ruthless. I gulp a strangling breath, and a raw scream tears from my throat. Dozens of hands are over me. They tie ropes around my wrists and legs and fasten a gag between my lips.
I scream anyway.
Tears roll down my cheeks, and I scream for help. I scream at Tib. I scream because despite all my training, I know I’m going to die.
My blurred vision finds Tib’s back at the edge of the meadow. He’s returning to the Enchanted Wood.
He’s abandoning me.
One of the trolls lifts the rope attached to my feet and coils it around his hand. With a sharp tug, he drags me through the creek toward the Well. I thrash against the restraints, but I’m not strong enough. My screams turn into whimpers.
Trolls fizzle from thin air until they surround the entire Well. Their voices chant low in a language I don’t understand, growing louder with each passing moment. Rough hands chafe my skin as I’m lifted from the ground.
My breathing grows shallow, and my panic sets in. I thrash against their iron-shackle grips and scream. It does nothing. Soon, I’m suspended above the Well’s mouth, flashing lights pulsing within. The trolls’ chanting cuts off.
Silence fills the meadow, haunted by the echo of their voices. Slowly, the hands tilt toward the Well, and I slip.
A scream tears from my throat, and I tumble straight into the troll realm.
And that's just chapter one.
Thanks for reading the first chapter of Well of Eida! You can continue reading chapter two by joining my reader newsletter or grab the full book here!
Ari's story is just beginning, and it's one you're not going to want to miss. Dragons and magic and betrayal and loss and heartbreak and family and love... She has a long way to go and I'm equally excited and terrified. Join me on this harrowing, heartbreaking, and empowering journey.
Ari's story is just beginning, and it's one you're not going to want to miss. Dragons and magic and betrayal and loss and heartbreak and family and love... She has a long way to go and I'm equally excited and terrified. Join me on this harrowing, heartbreaking, and empowering journey.
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