The fog wrapped itself around Ezra and ankles like tendrils of life as he trailed behind the old woman—Quinn—deeper and deeper into the ancient forest. Though she moved with stealth, bent and dressed in feathers and tattered shawls, her step was purposeful and silent. She guided him unwaveringly through the trees, which parted respectfully as she passed.

They traversed what seemed like hours. The lower they went, the colder it became, infused with the smell of damp ground, moss, and ...