In the village of Briar Glen, everyone knew what to do when the bells began.
You did not light a candle.
You did not look through the window.
You did not speak your name.
And above all, you did not go outside.
The bells only rang on moonless nights, when the mist came crawling down from the northern forest and covered the roads in white. No one knew who had hung them there. No one had ever found a bell tower. Yet every few years, sometimes after ten winters, sometimes after only two, the bells would sound from somewhere beyond the trees.
One deep toll.
Then another.
Then dozens.
And after the bells came the hooves.
The Wild Hunt.
Old people claimed it was led by a Fae lord named Caelan Thorne, the Black Rider, who had hunted mortals for centuries. Children were told that anyone caught outside during the Hunt would be dragged beyond the veil and forced to ride forever beneath the moonless sky.
Most people believed it was only a story.
Mara Vey did not.
Her father had disappeared during the last Hunt.
He had been gone for twelve years.
Mara was nine when it happened.
She remembered him leaving the house after hearing the bells.
She remembered her mother grabbing his sleeve.
She remembered him saying, “Someone has to find the others.”
Then he had walked into the mist.
He never came back.
Mara's mother died three years later, and from that day forward Mara hated the forest.
She hated the trees.
She hated the silence between them.
And she hated the stories.
So when the bells began again on the night of her twenty-first birthday, Mara did exactly what everyone in Briar Glen had been taught to do.
She stayed inside.
She locked the door.
She closed the shutters.
And she prayed the Hunt would pass.
For nearly an hour, nothing happened.
Then someone knocked.
Three slow knocks.
Mara froze.
Another three.
She stepped away from the door.
“Who's there?”
Silence.
Then a man's voice came from the other side.
“Mara.”
Her blood turned cold.
She knew that voice.
She had not heard it in twelve years.
“Dad?”
No answer.
Mara moved toward the door.
The voice came again.
“Mara, open the door.”
She reached for the latch.
Then stopped.
Her father had taught her never to answer voices from the forest.
Never.
She backed away.
The voice outside changed.
It became deeper.
Colder.
“Mara Vey.”
The candle beside her flickered.
She stared at it.
The flame turned blue.
Then the front door exploded inward.
Mara screamed.
Something black moved through the doorway.
A horse.
Its eyes burned silver.
A rider sat upon its back wearing armor the color of midnight. A cloak flowed behind him although there was no wind. A crown of twisted antlers rose from his head.
Behind him stood dozens of riders.
Some wore masks.
Some had faces.
Some had no faces at all.
And behind the riders ran creatures that looked almost like wolves, except their legs were too long and their mouths opened far too wide.
Mara stumbled backward.
The rider in front dismounted.
He was beautiful.
That was the first thing she noticed.
Beautiful in a way that made beauty seem dangerous.
His hair was black, his skin pale, and his eyes were silver-gray.
He looked at Mara.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then his gaze moved to the scar on her wrist.
Mara had received it the night her father disappeared.
The rider's expression changed.
“You.”
Mara swallowed.
“Who are you?”
He stepped closer.
“Caelan Thorne.”
The Black Rider.
The Fae Lord.
Leader of the Wild Hunt.
Mara's fear became anger.
“You took my father.”
Caelan stared at her.
“No.”
“Liar.”
“I remember your father.”
Mara's heart stopped.
“What happened to him?”
Caelan's eyes darkened.
“He joined the Hunt.”
“Why?”
“He had no choice.”
“You're lying.”
Caelan looked toward the window.
The bells continued ringing outside.
“No,” he said quietly. “I'm trying to decide how much truth you can survive.”
Mara grabbed a fireplace poker.
Caelan looked at it.
Then at her.
“You intend to fight me with that?”
“If I have to.”
Something almost like amusement touched his face.
“You have your father's courage.”
“I don't want his courage.”
“What do you want?”
“My father.”
Caelan's expression became unreadable.
“Then come with me.”
Mara laughed bitterly.
“You expect me to willingly join the Hunt?”
“No.”
He looked at the scar on her wrist again.
“The Hunt has already chosen you.”
The window shattered.
A black creature leapt through it.
Mara screamed and swung the poker.
The creature knocked her to the floor.
Before it could reach her, Caelan drew a sword.
The blade flashed silver.
The creature vanished in a burst of black smoke.
Mara stared.
Caelan offered his hand.
“Come.”
“No.”
Another creature crashed through the wall.
Then another.
The house began to shake.
Mara looked at the door.
The riders were waiting.
She looked at Caelan.
“Where?”
“The forest.”
“I'd rather die.”
His eyes met hers.
“You may.”
Mara took his hand.
The moment their fingers touched, the world disappeared.
She landed on wet grass beneath a sky filled with black clouds.
The Hunt surrounded her.
Hundreds of riders.
Ghostly horses.
Silver weapons.
Creatures moving between the trees.
Caelan mounted his horse.
“Stay beside me.”
“Why?”
“Because if you fall behind, they will take you.”
“Who?”
“The things that hunt the Hunt.”
Mara stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
Caelan didn't answer.
The horn sounded.
The Hunt began.
They rode through the forest at impossible speed.
Trees blurred.
The moon appeared between branches despite the sky being black.
Mara clung to the saddle.
Something screamed behind them.
She turned.
A shadow was following.
It had no body.
Only two enormous eyes.
Caelan saw it.
“Don't look at it.”
“What is it?”
“Death.”
“That doesn't help!”
“It wasn't supposed to.”
He pushed his horse faster.
The shadow came closer.
One rider disappeared.
Then another.
The Hunt did not stop.
Mara realized something terrible.
They were afraid.
The Wild Hunt was not chasing prey.
It was running.
They burst from the forest onto a vast plain.
A castle stood in the distance.
Its towers were black.
Its windows burned with blue fire.
Caelan rode toward it.
When they entered the gates, the riders dismounted.
Nobody spoke.
Nobody laughed.
Nobody looked happy.
Mara followed Caelan inside.
The castle was colder than the forest.
Portraits lined the walls.
Hundreds of them.
Kings.
Queens.
Warriors.
Children.
Mortals.
Fae.
Mara stopped at one.
A man stared back at her.
Her father.
She touched the painting.
“Where is he?”
Caelan stood behind her.
“He is alive.”
Mara turned.
“Where?”
Caelan hesitated.
“Inside the Hunt.”
“What does that mean?”
“He rides.”
“Then take me to him.”
“You cannot.”
“Why?”
“Because your father is not the man you remember.”
Mara's voice shook.
“I don't care.”
Caelan looked at her.
“You should.”
He led her deeper into the castle.
They entered a room filled with weapons.
Hundreds of swords hung from the walls.
Every blade carried a name.
Mara noticed one.
Elias Vey.
Her father's name.
She reached for it.
Caelan caught her wrist.
“Don't.”
“Why?”
“Because if you touch it, the Hunt will know you're here.”
Mara stared at him.
“The Hunt already knows.”
Caelan slowly released her.
“You're right.”
A voice came from the darkness.
“She has finally arrived.”
Mara turned.
An old Fae woman stepped forward.
Her eyes were completely black.
“The daughter.”
Caelan's face hardened.
“Leave.”
The woman smiled.
“She carries the mark.”
“What mark?”
Mara asked.
The old woman pointed at her wrist.
The scar began glowing silver.
Caelan swore.
The woman laughed.
“She doesn't know.”
“Know what?”
Caelan looked away.
Mara grabbed his arm.
“Tell me.”
He finally said it.
“The Hunt does not choose its riders.”
Mara stared.
“It chooses their blood.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“Your father was taken because of you.”
“What?”
“He was protecting you.”
Mara stepped backward.
“No.”
“He made a bargain with the Hunt.”
“What bargain?”
Caelan's voice became quiet.
“He promised to ride in your place.”
Mara's eyes filled with tears.
“But why?”
“Because the Hunt had already marked you.”
She looked at her scar.
“How?”
Caelan hesitated.
“You were born during a Wild Hunt.”
Mara felt sick.
“You're saying I'm Fae?”
“No.”
“Then what am I?”
Caelan stepped closer.
“The last thing the Hunt was created to destroy.”
Silence.
“What?”
“A mortal who can command the Hunt.”
Mara stared at him.
“That makes no sense.”
“It will.”
He walked to the window.
Outside, hundreds of riders waited.
“They were once protectors.”
“Protectors?”
“The Hunt was created to defend the boundary between worlds. Fae crossed into the mortal realm. Mortals crossed into the Fae realm. The Hunt kept both sides from destroying each other.”
“What happened?”
“A king used it as a weapon.”
“Which king?”
Caelan looked at her.
“My father.”
Mara understood.
“You inherited it.”
“Yes.”
“And now you're using it to hunt mortals.”
“No.”
She frowned.
“No?”
“I have spent three hundred years trying to stop it.”
The castle shook.
A horn sounded outside.
Caelan looked toward the door.
“The Hunt has awakened.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means they know you're here.”
The doors burst open.
Riders flooded the room.
Caelan drew his sword.
“Mara, behind me.”
She obeyed.
For the first time, she noticed something strange.
The riders weren't looking at Caelan.
They were looking at her.
One by one, they knelt.
Mara's breath caught.
Caelan stared.
The old Fae woman whispered:
“The Hunt has found its queen.”
Chaos erupted.
The riders turned against one another.
Some attacked Mara.
Others protected her.
The castle shook as ancient magic exploded through the halls.
Caelan grabbed Mara's hand.
“Run.”
They fled.
Behind them, the Hunt tore the castle apart.
They reached the forest.
Mara stumbled.
“I don't understand.”
“You don't need to.”
“Yes, I do!”
Caelan turned.
“You want the truth?”
“Yes.”
“Your father is alive.”
“Where?”
“In the Hunt.”
“Then take me to him.”
Caelan stared at her.
“If you go to him, you may never return.”
“I've already lost him once.”
“You don't understand.”
“I understand enough.”
She stepped closer.
“You said he chose to ride for me.”
“Yes.”
“Then I'm choosing to ride for him.”
Caelan looked at her for a long moment.
Then he held out his hand.
Mara took it.
They rode into the heart of the Hunt.
They crossed rivers that flowed through the sky.
They passed forests where trees whispered their names.
They rode beneath a moon that had never risen in the mortal world.
Finally, they reached a valley filled with riders.
At its center stood one man.
Older.
Scarred.
Wearing black armor.
Mara knew him immediately.
“Dad.”
The man turned.
His eyes filled with tears.
“Mara.”
She ran to him.
He caught her.
For a few seconds, the Hunt disappeared.
There was only a father holding his daughter.
Then Elias pulled away.
“You shouldn't be here.”
“I came for you.”
“You need to leave.”
“I won't.”
His expression broke.
“You don't understand what I became.”
“I don't care.”
“I killed people.”
Mara froze.
Elias looked down.
“Every rider pays a price. The longer you ride, the more human you become.”
“You're still my father.”
“Not entirely.”
Caelan stepped forward.
“Elias.”
Elias looked at him.
“You brought her.”
“She found the truth.”
“You should have kept her away.”
“I tried.”
Elias laughed bitterly.
“You always were terrible at protecting people.”
Caelan smiled faintly.
“Apparently.”
The valley shook.
A sound like thunder rolled across the sky.
The shadow appeared.
The thing that had hunted the Hunt.
The thing with no body.
The creature entered the valley.
Every rider screamed.
Caelan raised his sword.
Mara felt the scar on her wrist burning.
She suddenly understood.
The Hunt wasn't afraid of the creature.
It was bound to it.
The creature controlled them.
Her father had not joined the Hunt.
He had been keeping it alive.
Protecting the world from something worse.
Mara stepped forward.
The riders stopped.
Caelan grabbed her arm.
“What are you doing?”
“Ending it.”
“You don't know how.”
“Yes, I do.”
She looked at the Hunt.
“Stop.”
Every rider froze.
The shadow roared.
Mara raised her hand.
The silver mark spread across her skin.
The Hunt knelt.
All of them.
Even Caelan.
Mara looked at him.
“Why are you kneeling?”
His eyes were filled with something she had never seen before.
Hope.
“Because you're the first mortal the Hunt has ever obeyed.”
Mara turned toward the shadow.
“You've hunted my family for generations.”
The creature screamed.
“You took my father.”
The ground cracked.
“You took thousands of others.”
The Hunt began glowing.
“You made fear into a weapon.”
Mara's voice shook.
“But I will not become you.”
She lowered her hand.
The Hunt rose.
Every rider turned their weapon toward the shadow.
Caelan stood beside her.
Elias stood on her other side.
For one impossible moment, mortals, Fae, and the Wild Hunt stood together.
Then they charged.
The battle lasted until dawn.
The shadow was finally torn apart.
The Hunt began disappearing.
One rider after another.
Their armor fell empty onto the grass.
Their horses vanished.
The ancient curse broke.
Elias collapsed.
Mara caught him.
His black armor turned to dust.
He looked younger.
Human.
For the first time in twelve years, her father smiled.
“I knew you'd come.”
Mara cried.
“I thought I'd lost you.”
“You did.”
She frowned.
“What?”
Elias touched her cheek.
“The man I was is gone.”
He looked toward Caelan.
“But perhaps that's not always a tragedy.”
Caelan stood a short distance away.
Mara looked at him.
“You knew this would happen?”
“No.”
“Then why did you bring me?”
“Because you asked.”
She smiled.
“That sounds dangerously close to trust.”
“It is.”
“What happens now?”
Caelan looked toward the fading Hunt.
“I don't know.”
“Good.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Good?”
“I don't want another destiny.”
For the first time, Caelan laughed.
The sound was quiet.
Almost human.
Mara took his hand.
Behind them, the last rider vanished into the morning mist.
The Wild Hunt was gone.
But stories say that on certain moonless nights, when the wind is cold and the forest falls silent, riders can still be heard in the distance.
Some say they are ghosts.
Some say they are waiting for another queen.
And some say that if you listen carefully, you can hear two riders at the front of the procession.
A Fae lord with silver eyes.
And a mortal woman who chose not to become a monster.
They do not hunt the innocent anymore.
They hunt the things that cross between worlds with hunger in their hearts.
And whenever the bells begin to ring, the people of Briar Glen no longer hide.
They close their doors.
They extinguish their candles.
And they whisper the same prayer.
Not for protection from the Hunt.
But for mercy upon whatever the Hunt is chasing.