Evangeline had been running for her life for the past three hours.

She hurtled over a fallen tree, her boots crunching the dried leaves and sticks beneath her as she ran. Her breath came in short gasps, and her face glistened with sweat. In one hand she held a small dark stone that seemed to swirl with starlight. Her father had called it a Night Stone. In the other hand she clutched a knife in a grip so tight that her knuckles were turning white.

Just hours ago, she had been cooking dinner with her father. The kitchen of their tiny cabin was filled with sweet aromas. Evangeline swatted at her father’s hand with a wooden spoon as he tried to dip his finger in the cake batter she was stirring. He chuckled deeply as he threw a wet paper towel at her face, and she dropped the spoon in the batter, rolling up her sleeves determinedly as she readied herself to exact her revenge.

A loud clanking outside startled the pair. Evangeline’s father peered out the tiny kitchen window. His face paled, and he immediately grabbed Evangeline by the arm and whisked her out of the kitchen and into his bedroom.

“What is it?” Evangeline asked worriedly as her father began rummaging around his room. “Who was out there?”

Her father didn’t answer her. “Listen, Ev, you don’t have much time.”

“Time for what?”

He gripped her shoulders tightly, leaning down so they were at eye level. “Evangeline, listen closely to everything I tell you. You have to run.”

“What?” Evangeline stared wide-eyed at her father. “Why?”

“Those men out there, they’re here for something of your mother’s. A Night Stone. It’s incredibly powerful, but if it falls into the wrong hands, it could cause mass destruction.”

He released his grip on her and turned towards her mother’s side of the bed. She watched him silently. Neither of them had touched her belongings since she had passed away 12 years ago. Evangeline had only been five years old, but she still remembered her mother’s smile and her laugh that sounded like tiny bells and the way she would always tie her hair back before she ate. They had left all of her belongings untouched, almost as if they hoped she would one day come back to them and reclaim them for herself.

Evangeline immediately knew that the situation they were in was very grave as her father began sifting through her mother’s belongings without hesitation. He pulled out a dark coat and a black combat suit. He rummaged under the bed and placed a pair of black boots on top of the pile of clothes and shoved them into her arms.

“Change into these,” he murmured, eyes darting wildly around the room. “Quickly.”

Evangeline stepped into the bathroom and did as she was told. She plaited her light brown hair in a long braid down her back and emerged from the bathroom just as her father reappeared in the doorway to his room, holding a thigh sheath in one hand and Evangeline’s favorite knife in the other.

“They just hit the third tripwire,” her father told her as she fastened the holster around her leg and sheathed her blade in its place. “They’re coming down the hill as we speak. You need to hurry.”

“What about you?” Evangeline asked as her father tugged her out of the room and down the hallway towards the back door.

“I’ll be fine,” he reassured her. “I’ll stay here and hold them off for a while. It’ll give you some time to get away.”

She pursed her lips but kept quiet. If this stone was really as important as he said, she knew that this was what needed to be done. Her mother had spent her life fighting to protect it, and so would she.

The pair neared the back door, and Evangeline’s father gripped her shoulders once more. “Do you know the tree I always make you climb?” Evangeline nodded once. “There’s a root that’s darker than the others. It’s on the north side of the tree. The stone is buried three feet underground just to the left of that root. You have to find it. Don’t let anyone get to it, and don’t tell anyone you have it.”

Evangeline nodded again, anxiety and fear winding around her spine. She realized that this was what she had been training for her whole life, even if she hadn’t known it at the time.

A crash sounded through the house, startling both Evangeline and her father.

“Time to go,” she murmured.

Her father kissed the top of her head, pulling his daughter into a tight hug. “I love you, Ev.”

“I love you too, Dad.”

She reached for the handle on the door, but her father caught her wrist before she could open it. His dark eyes seared into her hazel ones. “Do you remember the rules of the forest your mother taught you when you were little?”

“Of course.”

He squeezed her wrist. “Don’t forget them. Ever. Do you understand me?”

Evangeline nodded, and he released her, taking one final look at her before pulling a handgun from his jeans and disappearing around the corner.

She opened the door as the first gunshots were fired, bolting it behind her and sprinting towards the treeline. Voices called out behind her, but she ignored them. She raced towards the tree where the stone was buried as fast as her legs could carry her. She knew her father was exceptionally skilled with a gun; he had taught her how to use one himself.

Evangeline closed the distance between herself and her destination, dropping to her knees on the north side of the tree. Her shaking fingers fumbled through the dirt until they found the dark root they were searching for, and she began clawing vigorously at the earth. Mud caked itself underneath her fingernails, and the rich, musky scent of earth stung her nose as she dug frantically in search of the stone.

Her nails scraped against something soft, and she unearthed a folded piece of worn leather. She shook it open, and a dark stone the size of a small egg dropped into the palm of her hand. She examined it closely, holding it up to the light. Starlight drifted lazily across its smooth surface. She was so entranced with the stone that she didn’t notice the figure darting through the trees behind her until it was too late.

She heard the low whine of a blade slicing through the air and felt the wind rush past her face before she even saw her attacker. Evangeline rolled out of the way just as the knife slammed into the tree behind her. She looked up in shock as her attacker approached, pulling a sharp sword from its sheath at his waist.

“That was my favorite tree,” she chided, slipping the Night Stone into her pocket. “You’re going to regret that.”

The man responded by simply swinging his sword at her head. Evangeline ducked under his blows, her hands clasped behind her back, her light eyes already calculating his every move before he even knew he was going to make them. She noticed how his eyes darted to wherever he was aiming before he swung his blade, how his right hand had a tighter grip on the hilt of his sword than his left, the way his hips would angle away from her to indicate he was getting ready to strike.

The man moved just the way she wanted him to, and Evangeline seized her opportunity. She moved to the right of the blade as he slashed at her, bringing up one foot and slamming it into the left side of his face. His left hand released its hold to cup his cheek, and Evangeline used his stunned reaction to her advantage, grabbing his right arm in both hands and flipping him over her shoulder, twisting the sword out of his grip. He landed in the dirt, and she pressed the tip of the sword right against his jugular vein. The man’s eyes widened and his breathing hitched, his hands flying up in surrender.

Evangeline knew that she could kill this man with just the flick of her wrist. It was so simple, yet she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She lowered the sword and turned to walk away. Noticing her hesitation, the man reached out, grabbing onto her ankle and yanking hard. The sword flew from her grip, landing in the dirt out of her reach. Evangeline tumbled to the ground, and the man immediately began crawling over her. She kicked wildly at him as he straddled her body, his hands latching around her throat. Her eyes widened as he squeezed hard, and she clawed desperately at his hands and arms as her air supply was cut off. He only squeezed tighter in response. As her vision began to swim and fade, Evangeline’s trembling fingers slid to the knife at her waist, tugging it free from its sheath. She closed her eyes and buried her blade to the hilt in his stomach. The man’s eyes widened as he released her throat, collapsing limply on top of her body. She pushed him off and rolled over onto her hands and knees, gasping for breath, one hand coming up to grasp her throat. Evangeline pressed her forehead to the forest floor, her eyes fluttering shut as she slowly regained her composure. She remained in this position for a minute before she finally rolled over to look at the man.

He was leaning back against a tree, one hand wrapped loosely around the hilt of her knife. His eyes gazed hollowly at the crimson stain spreading across the front of his shirt. Evangeline’s breath caught in her throat. She was frozen with intense shock and fear at the sight before her.

The man’s eyes slid up to meet hers. Evangeline couldn’t look away. She began to study his face, his eyes like pools of honey, the dark hair that fell forward onto his sweaty forehead, the fading color of his skin. He wasn’t that much older than she was, Evangeline realized. Maybe, in another world, they could’ve been friends.

A loud crashing through the trees behind her broke Evangeline out of her trance. She crawled sluggishly towards the man’s limp form, the sharp burning in her throat drawing tears to her eyes. Evangeline gripped the hilt of her knife, unable to meet his dying gaze.

“I’m sorry,” she choked out.

She pulled the knife out from his abdomen, blood spilling down the man’s shirt and onto her hands. The metallic scent hit her like a train, jarring her senses and shaking her to the core. Evangeline turned to leave. There was nothing she could do for him now.

A hand caught her wrist, and she glanced down at the dying man. His eyes were trained on hers once again. His grip was firm, but it was still soft enough that she could’ve broken out of it. He wasn’t trying to keep her there. He was trying to tell her something. His cracked lips moved slowly, desperately, as if they were forming words but were unable to speak them. Evangeline leaned closer, but his grip loosened completely on her wrist. His arm fell limp at his side. His mouth was still agape, his glassy eyes staring sightlessly at something over Evangeline’s head. She stared down in horror at the man beneath her.

He was dead . . . He was dead, and Evangeline had killed him.

She had been trained to kill since she was five years old. Her father had taught her all of the body’s weakest points, how to fire a bullet right between a person’s eyes, how to angle a blade between the ribs to reach a person’s heart. But nothing could have prepared her for this. The suffocating feeling of taking another person’s life from them, stealing the breath from their chest and the color from their eyes, was something her father could never have readied her for. Evangeline knew she would never forget those honey eyes of her first kill.

Her instincts kicked into gear as she heard angry voices grow closer to her, adrenaline flooding her body. One of her bloodstained hands gripped her knife as she steeled herself and took off sprinting through the forest. Her mind was reeling. She couldn’t seem to think straight. All she could see was his blood. It was everywhere: on her hands, on her clothes, in her hair and her eyes, scorching its way down her throat —

Evangeline shook herself. She didn’t have time for this. Her shaking fingers pressed over the lump of the Night Stone in her pocket. She had a mission to fulfill — her mother’s mission — and she would complete it even if it killed her.

And here she was, three hours later, with sharp, short breathing and a frenzied look in her eyes and an ache in her leg from an old injury that never fully healed, still running and fighting and being haunted by a pair of unnerving eyes.

A memory forced its way to the front of Evangeline’s mind. Her mother sat on a small wicker chair in their cabin, her hands running through Evangeline's hair.

“Evangeline, darling, there’s something I must tell you.” Her buttery voice hummed lowly through the cabin. “You must promise to listen closely and to never forget what I’m about to say to you.”

Little Evangeline had looked up at her mother with her innocent doe-like eyes and had unknowingly made a promise that would drastically alter her future.

“When you go into the woods, Evangeline, never look behind you. You won’t see anything if you do, but once you look, you’ll never stop.”

Evangeline could hear boots crunching over dried leaves and twigs behind her. They were too close for comfort, but she didn’t dare look. She focused her eyes ahead of her and kept moving.

“If you hear the trees calling to you, don’t answer them. Never answer.”

The trees seemed to sing her name tauntingly, tossing it through their branches and cackling with one another at her misfortunes. Evangeline gritted her teeth. She focused on the dull ache in her leg and on the dried blood covering her hands and on the sharp sting of every breath she took. 

“If you have a bad feeling about taking a certain path, listen to it. Trust your instincts, Evangeline. You’ll avoid the dangers lurking at the end of it.”

Warning bells seemed to go off in her head, and, almost of their own accord, her feet turned away from the path she had been following, narrowly avoiding the wooden arrow hurtling at her head.

“Always remember that you’re in unfriendly territory. You never know what lives in the trees around you or what is buried under the soil you’re walking on. Just pray that whatever it is, it won’t wake up.”

A deafening screech echoed through the trees above her, shaking Evangeline to the core. A flock of large black birds hurtled through the air above her head, obscuring the tops of the trees from view. Evangeline ducked her head and continued to run, her feet moving cautiously around piles of leaves or stray branches that littered the forest floor.

“Before you bring a knife with you into the forest, you must give it a name. If you don’t, your blade will turn on you when you try to use it.”

Evangeline gripped her knife tighter as she hurtled over a fallen tree. Her father had given it to her for her ninth birthday, and she had named it that same day. Atropos, she called it, after the third Fate in Greek mythology that cut the thread of life. The crimson blood staining the blade glinted up at her. Evangeline almost wanted to cry at the irony of the name.

“Do not go into the woods at night, Evangeline. The moon is a trickster. She will guide you to your doom.”

The sun had already dipped below the trees, flooding the forest with darkness. Even the crickets were silent as Evangeline sprinted past. She couldn’t see the North Star through the thick branches over her head. Panic coiled in her stomach like a snake readying itself to strike. She was now running blindly through the forest, being hunted by men she didn’t know. She was outnumbered, exhausted, and all alone.

Evangeline stumbled over a fallen branch and was sent sprawling into a small clearing. She spit dirt out of her mouth and stood shakily. Her bad leg was trembling as she tried to put pressure on it, and her throat seemed to scream in protest with each breath she took. She limped towards the opposite side of the clearing. Suddenly, dark shapes appeared across from her, blocking her path. She turned around, but there were more of them surrounding all sides of her. She was ridiculously outnumbered.

Evangeline brought her knife to her lips. She could taste the bitter tang of blood as she whispered to it. “Atropos, I need you now more than ever. Don’t fail me now.” The men drew closer to her, cornering her like a wounded animal.

“You’re a fool, little girl.” The words seemed to echo all around her. The men all drew large guns from their backs. Evangeline cursed lowly, clenching the hilt of her knife. “Give us the Night Stone.”

“Why should I do that?” Evangeline’s fingers smoothed over the stone in her pocket.

“We have your father. We’ll kill him if you don’t.”

Evangeline’s heart leapt to her throat. She wanted to scream and cry, but her father’s voice of reason echoed in the back of her mind. “Prove it.”

A shrouded figure was shoved to his knees in front of Evangeline. The hood of the cloak was tugged back by one of the surrounding figures. Moonlight spilled onto the man’s face, illuminating the familiar features of her father. All of the surrounding figures trained their guns on her father, and Evangeline cried out in fear.

“Give us the Night Stone or he dies.”

“Don’t, Ev!” her father ordered. His eyes were wide as they stared at his daughter.

The man closest to Evangeline released the safety on his gun as a warning. The rest of the men followed his lead.

“Don’t shoot him, please!” Evangeline pleaded. She pulled the Night Stone out of her pocket.

“Give us the stone.”

“Give me my father.”

“You play a dangerous game, little girl. Don’t you know who you’re running from?” The men surrounding her chuckled menacingly. “I think it’s about time we teach you a lesson. You kill one of us, we kill one of you.”

Evangeline let out a bloodcurdling shriek as bullets began to fly towards her father. Time seemed to slow to a gradual crawl. Seconds dragged out slowly as Evangeline stared at her father with agony etched across her face. His eyes remained determined as they stared back at her.

The Night Stone pulsed dangerously in her hand. It seemed to take complete control of Evangeline. The dark stone glowed a brilliant white, and Evangeline’s hazel eyes began to blaze the same color. Her hair unwound itself from her braid, creating a halo around her head, defying the laws of gravity. She lifted the hand with the pure white stone, holding it out towards her father. She looked like an archangel, covered in blood that wasn’t her own with Atropos at her side. Evangeline uncurled her fingers from around the stone, and the clearing shattered in a burst of white light.