The world around me distorts, twisting and warping into a grotesque reflection of reality.
Shadows stretch and writhe, flickering in and out of view like dark tendrils reaching toward me, refusing to fade. The ground beneath me shifts, pulsating with an eerie rhythm, as if it has a life of its own.
I stand at the heart of a vast, dark forest, a suffocating mist swirling around my feet, cold and damp against my skin. It clings like a clammy blanket, wrapping me in its weight.
The air smells of decaying leaves, moldy bark, and an overpowering sweetness, as if something had died here long ago and was left to rot in silence.
I shouldn't be here.
Yet, something pulls me forward.
The trees tower over me, their twisted branches gnarled and unnatural, stretching out like clawed fingers, reaching for my throat. They seem to watch me, waiting.
The silence is profound, almost unbearable, a heavy stillness that presses down on me, amplifying the pounding of my heart. I spin in slow circles, each beat of my pulse echoing in my ears, the sound deafening in the suffocating quiet.
With each step I take, the earth beneath me seems to writhe, as if the ground itself is alive. A cold, slimy sensation brushes against my ankles, sending jolts of panic through me. I try to step forward, but the air feels thick, too thick—like walking through tar.
I glance down and see black vines, their surfaces slick and pulsating like veins of a monstrous creature, winding around my feet. The cold, creeping touch makes my skin crawl.
I try to pull free, but the vines tighten, their grip unyielding, constricting around my calves. I stagger back, but the roots beneath my feet shift, pulling me deeper into the forest.
I almost lose my balance, stumbling, but the vines hold me in place. I gasp for air, heart racing as the suffocating darkness closes in.
Then, through the fog, a faint glimmer catches my eye—a light in the distance, soft and pale, like the moonlight breaking through the clouded night. My breath catches as I push through the heavy mist, drawn to the object beneath the roots of an ancient tree.
It gleams faintly, as though it's the only thing alive in this dreadful place. I step closer, my fingers trembling as I reach for it, feeling a strange pull that goes beyond simple curiosity.
As my hand touches the object, the fog seems to thicken, the air growing even colder. The box reveals itself, a small, ornate artifact, its surface etched with strange, glowing symbols.
The symbols pulse, faintly but steadily, as though the box is breathing with a life of its own. I can feel the warmth seep into my fingers, but it's not comforting—no, it's unnerving, like the heat of something far too alive, something far too aware of me.
The lid creaks open, and as it does, a soft, silver light spills out, pushing back the darkness surrounding me.
Inside, nestled in dark velvet, lies a delicate silver pendant, its crescent moon shape almost too perfect. A teardrop-shaped stone dangles from it, pulsing softly—like a heartbeat.
A chill runs up my arm as I reach for it, the metal almost too cold to the touch, despite the warmth it radiates from within. The moment my fingers close around it, something lurches in my chest, like a second pulse beating out of sync with my own. A sharp ache blooms behind my ribs, gone as quickly as it came.
My breath stutters.
I should let go.
But I don't.
A whispering voice drifts through the trees, so soft it could be the wind—except wind doesn't speak.
"The blood of Fae… the light of truth… beware the darkness…"
My stomach clenches. The words slither into my mind, curling around my thoughts like vines. I clap my hands over my ears instinctively, but the voice isn't coming from outside.
It's inside me.
A sharp chill snakes down my spine. My breath comes in short, uneven gasps as the words slither into my mind, curling around my thoughts like vines. They sound old. Ancient. And worse.
Familiar.
The forest trembles as the voice fades, but its presence lingers in the air, heavy and oppressive.
The branches above groan and creak, snapping under an unseen weight. The shadows deepen, growing thicker, pressing in on me from all sides. I hear the sound of vines tightening, their cold, slimy tendrils coiling around my legs, dragging me down, pulling me toward something I can't see.
My breath comes in quick, shallow gasps as I try to scream, but no sound escapes. The words are stuck, caught in my throat, as if the very air is choking me.
The voices rise—discordant, frantic—each one jarring, like nails scraping across a chalkboard. They press into my mind, their words becoming clearer now, repeating the same phrases over and over, blurring together into one continuous scream.
"The blood of Fae… beware the darkness… the light of truth…"
The panic surges through me, my pulse hammering in my throat as the darkness closes in, threatening to swallow me whole. The vines grow tighter, colder. I try to push them away, but my hands slip off their slick surfaces.
The light from the pendant flickers in the encroaching blackness, casting long, haunting shadows that twist and writhe as though alive.
I try to move, to run, but my legs are trapped, pinned beneath the weight of the vines. The darkness around me tightens, the shadows thickening like oil in water.
I feel as though I'm suffocating, as if the very world is closing in on me. I want to scream, to cry out for help, but the words never reach my lips. I gasp, my chest tightening, feeling the dark weight pressing down on me. The whispers turn into an overwhelming roar, deafening, relentless.
Just as the darkness threatens to consume me completely, I scream. My voice cuts through the chaos, shattering the silence.
And then—
Everything goes black.
******
I bolt upright in my bed, drenched in sweat, my heart hammering against my ribs as though it's trying to break free.
The room is bathed in the soft, hesitant light of dawn, shadows stretching and warping, flickering as though they have a life of their own.
I draw in sharp, ragged breaths, the scream from the nightmare still echoing in my ears.
My hands shake uncontrollably, the memory of the cold, creeping vines around my ankles lingering as if they're still there, constricting around me. The metallic chill of the pendant presses into my skin, its coldness a stark reminder of the nightmare that felt far too real.
The door bursts open with a suddenness that makes me jump.
Mom rushes in, her face pale, eyes wide with fear. "Sarah, what's wrong? I heard you scream!"
She crosses the room so fast, kneeling at my bedside, hands warm on my arms.
I struggle to steady my breathing. My hands shake as I run them over my legs, my arms, checking for something that isn't there.
"It was just a dream," mom soothes, rubbing slow circles on my back. "You're safe, Monkey."
Safe.
I swallow, the dream's grip still too real. "It didn't feel like a dream."
I hesitate, but the words spill out anyway.
"I was in a forest. There was a box…..these symbols…." My voice drops to a whisper. "They felt familiar, mom. And there was a voice….talking about Fae and darkness."
She stills.
It's small—a flicker of hesitation, a second too long before she speaks.
But I see it.
Her hands resume their soothing motion, but there's something tighter in them now.
"Monkey….you've had a lot going on lately with school." She forces a smile, brushing damp strands of hair from my forehead. "Sometimes, stress can make us dream about things that don't make sense."
No.
This wasn't just stress.
A pit forms in my stomach. "But I know I've seen those symbols before."
My voice is shaky now, but I don't stop."And the pendant….it felt like it belonged to me."
Something flickers in her expression.
Then—a slow inhale. Her eyes soften, but they won't quite meet mine.
"Sarah."
I brace myself.
"There are somethings…..that are better left in the past."
The words settle like a weight in my chest.
She presses a kiss to my forehead, lingering just a second too long. "I promise you're safe."
Safe.
That word again.
I watch as she pulls back, smoothing the blankets around me, her movements a little too careful.
She is hiding something. I want to demand answers, to push. But I won't break through tonight.
Instead, I exhale shakily, forcing the tension from my shoulders. "Okay."
The word is empty, but she nods as if she believes it.
"Try to get some rest."
She stands, lingers in the doorway for half a breath. Then she's gone.
The door clicks shut.
Silence.
My fingers twitch against the sheets, the phantom feeling of the vines still there.
She's hiding something. And I'm going to find out what it is.
*******
The morning drags. Seconds turning into minutes, minutes into hours. I sit through class, but my mind isn't here.
I haven't written anything. My pen hovers uselessly over my notebook, but the numbers and formulas on the board blur together. The world around me feels distant, like I'm listening through water, sounds muffled and out of reach.
I tap my fingers against the desk, my pulse slow but heavy.
I need to stop thinking about this.
The dream. The symbols. The way mom looked at me this morning.
But no matter how many times I blink, my thoughts don't settle.
"Sarah?"
The voice is close. Too close.
I snap out of my haze, my breath catching as Justin's face comes into focus.
He's leaning forward on my desk, his arms folded like he's been sitting there longer than I realized.
His gaze is steady. Focused. Like he's waiting for something.
"Where did you go just now?"
I flinch slightly, knocking my notebook askew. He notices.
A small smirk plays at the edge of his lips. "Didn't mean to pull you out of whatever deep, dark thoughts you were having."
I exhale, steadying myself. "I wasn't—" I shake my head, forcing a weak laugh. "Just zoned out."
Justin studies me for a second too long. "Yeah. I noticed."
There is no teasing this time in his tone.
Just quiet observation.
I shift in my seat. "It's nothing."
His dark eyes flicker with something unreadable. "You sure?"
I nod—too quickly.
Justin doesn't press. Instead, he leans back slightly, tilting his head like he is figuring something out.
Then, just as I think he's about to let it go—-
"Is it me?"
I blink. "What?"
The smirk is back, but his eyes stay locked on mine. "You keep looking at me like you're trying to solve something."
My throat goes dry. "I do not."
His smirk widens. "Uh-huh."
I huff, looking away. "Maybe I just think you're weird."
Justin chuckles, low and amused. "I get that a lot."
There's a beat of silence between us, charged in a way that I don't understand. Then he shifts, watching me again, but softer this time.
"Lunch?"
I hesitate. "What about it?"
He shrugs, casual. "You should sit with me."
I narrow my eyes. "Why?'
Justin raises a brow, feigning offense. "Maybe I just like your company."
I roll my eyes, but my stomach does something weird.
He's enjoying this.
"Fine."
His grin is too easy, too knowing.
"Cool. I'll find you."
He gets up to leave, giving my shoulder a light squeeze as he passes. The warmth of his touch lingers.
I stare after him, my pulse uneven.
The thought of spending more time with him is comforting, but the knowledge that something isn't right—the feeling that my mom knows more than she's saying—remains heavy, pressing down on me.
*******
By the time lunch rolls around, I'm still off balance.
I'm unsure if it's the way Justin looked at me in class or the fact that I agreed to sit with him. Maybe both.
My usual spot at the back of the cafeteria feels too exposed today, but I sit anyway, picking at my food.
Then, like clockwork, he appears.
Justin drops into the seat across from me, his tray untouched, that same easy smirk on his face.
"Told you I'd find you."
I raise a brow. "Didn't realize I was lost."
His grin deepens. "Not yet."
I pause mid-bite, narrowing my eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Justin shrugs, tilting his head like he's considering something. "You're figuring it out."
A strange chill slides down my spine.
Before I can respond, a shadow falls over the table.
Natalia.
She slides into the seat next to Justin with zero hesitation, her movements smooth, deliberate. Like she belongs there.
Her deep green eyes flick over me, slow and assessing, like she's deciding something.
"I thought you were joking," she says, nudging Justin's tray aside like it's in her way.
Justin exhales through his nose. "Natalia."
A warning.
She ignores it. "You actually invited her."
I tense. Her. Not Sarah. Like I'm some random outsider.
Justin sighs, clearly irritated. "She's sitting with me. Get over it."
Natalia hums, resting her chin in her palm. "I just didn't expect you to take an interest in her so soon."
So soon?
Something in her tone curls around me, unsettling and unreadable.
Justin's jaw tightens. "We're working on a project, Nat."
Natalia tilts her head. "Sure."
Silence.
Thick. Heavy.
I don't know what game she's playing but I hate that I don't know the rules.
So, I meet her stare, lifting my chin slightly. "Is there a problem?"
Natalia's smirk widens, as if she was waiting for me to push back.
"Not yet."
Justin exhales sharply, pushing his tray away. "Enough, Nat."
Natalia leans back, amused. "Fine."
But the air still feels tight, electric.
Justin looks at me, and for the first time, he actually looks bothered.
Not his usual teasing, not the unreadable gaze—but genuinely irritated.
I don't know if it's because of Natalia or because she said something true.
The rest of the school day drags, but the tension from lunch doesn't fade.
Even hours later, Natalia's words coil around my thoughts like vines, tangling with the unease I already had.
"You actually invited her."
"I just didn't expect you to take an interest in her so soon."
So soon.
I don't know what she meant. But I know it wasn't just some passing comment.
It felt like a warning.
By the time the final bell rings, my head is pounding. I've spent the last half of class zoning out, my pen moving on autopilot, tracing the same crescent moon in the margins of my notebook over and over again.
The pendant. The box. The forest.
I don't even remember starting the sketch, but the longer I stare at it, the worse the tightness in my chest gets.
I slam my notebook shut and shove it into my bag.
I need to get out of here.
*******
At home, the house is quiet. Mom's car is gone again.
The silence should be comforting, but instead, it feels like the walls are pressing in on me.
I drop my bag by the door and head straight to my room, collapsing onto my bed. But I don't relax. My mind keeps circling back to the cafeteria, to Natalia's smirk, to Justin's vague deflection.
And then, to this morning. Mom's expression when I mentioned the pendant. To the flicker of fear in her eyes.
She knows something. I can feel it. She just won't tell me.
I exhale sharply and grab my phone.
Hey, can we actually meet up tomorrow instead? I'm not feeling up to going out tonight.
His reply is almost immediate:
Sure. Is everything okay?
Yeah, just tired. Thanks, Justin.
No problem. See you tomorrow.
I toss my phone aside and stare at the ceiling, the exhaustion settling deep in my bones. But sleep feels distant, unreachable. The sense of something closing in around me—something dark and unsettling—lingers, like a shadow I can't shake.
I pull the blanket up over my shoulders, hoping the night will bring some relief. I close my eyes, but the haunting sense of something just out of reach is there, following me into the darkness.
*******
The library is quieter than usual for a Saturday afternoon, its vast expanse filled only with the soft rustling of pages and the occasional squeak of a chair.
I sit at our usual table, books piled in front of me, but I'm not really reading them. Instead, I keep glancing at the clock on the wall, watching the minutes stretch out, too slow, too long.
Where is he?
I bite my lip, trying not to let my thoughts spiral. Maybe Natalia needed him for something.
Still, I keep glancing toward the doorway.
And then—-
Justin appears.
I release a breath as he steps inside, scanning the room until his eyes land on me. But something is off.
His clothes are slightly disheveled, and there's a weight in his expression I don't usually see.
His usual smirk is missing.
"Hey," he says, dropping into the seat across from me. "Sorry I'm late." He runs a hand through his hair, then exhales. "Got caught up in some family stuff."
Family stuff.
I nod, not pushing, but there's something tight in my chest. It's the same excuse he used before.
"It's fine." I say, though I don't quite believe it. "I've just been…..waiting."
Justin leans back in his chair, studying me.
"Are you okay? You look—" I pause, searching for the right word."
"Horrible?" He offers, wry smile flickering at the corner of his lips.
I roll my eyes. "I was going to say tired."
"Same thing."
For a second, it feels normal. The usual back-and-forth. The easy way we talk.
But then he exhales sharply, glancing away like he's debating saying something.
The tension returns.
I should ask what's wrong. But I don't.
Because I don't know if I want the answer.
Instead, I grab the nearest book and change the subject. "Ready to dive into this project?"
Justin blinks, like I've pulled him from his own thoughts. Then, his usual smirk returns, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes.
"Always."
As we start brainstorming, something shifts. At first, it's just a distraction—words filling the silence, ideas tossed back and forth. But then it becomes more.
Justin leans in, flipping through pages, pointing things out. "What if the town is alive?" he suggests, tapping a sentence in the book in front of me. "Like….it shifts around, leads people to places they don't mean to go."
A shiver runs through me. I don't know why.
"That's…..actually really good," I admit. "And maybe it's not just the town. Maybe there's a reason it's cursed. Like something buried in its history."
He grins, the tiredness in his face lifting for the first time since he walked in. "You've been holding out on me. I didn't realize you were such a mastermind."
I feel my cheeks warm, but I quickly brush it off with a playful eye roll. "What can I say? I'm full of surprises."
Justin leans back in his chair, his smile turning softer, more genuine. "I can tell."
I freeze for half a second too long. There is something different about the way he says it. The teasing is still there, but underneath it, there's something warmer, something real. My heart does this weird little flutter thing I definitely do NOT approve of.
I quickly glance down at the book in front of me, flipping a page just to have something to do. "Okay, so…what about the characters?" I ask, trying to shift gears.
If Justin notices, he doesn't call me out on it.
Instead, he leans closer, his elbow resting on the table. "I think there has to be an outsider," he says, watching me instead of the book. "Someone who doesn't fit in but is drawn to the town anyway."
I nod, feeling his eyes on me. "Like they have unfinished business there….or maybe something they don't even know they're looking for."
"Yeah," he murmurs. "Exactly."
The way he says it—-slow, careful, like he means more than just the story—sends a flicker of heat through me.
The library suddenly feels too quiet.
I shift in my seat, breaking the eye contact, before I do something ridiculous like overthink this. "So, do we want a love interest?"
Justin smirks, but there's something curious in his eyes. "You tell me."
I huff a laugh, shaking my head. "I think romance can ruin a good story if it's done wrong."
He tilts his head. "And if it's done right?"
I press my lips together, considering. "If it adds to the tension, raises the stakes…" I shrug. "Then maybe."
Justin's eyes linger on my lips a beat too long. His smirk lingering. "You're a fan of tension, huh?"
I regret everything.
"Shut up," I mutter, flipping the page in the book just to NOT look at him.
Justin chuckles, but the weight between us doesn't fade.
The hours slip away. At some point, Justin's fingers brush mine when we both reach for the same book.
It's the lightest touch—barely there—but it sends a jolt through me anyway. I pull my hand back too fast, flipping through pages, pretending like it didn't happen.
Justin pretends not to notice. But I know he did.
By the time we finally wrap up, my mind is more tangled than it was before.
"I know we said Monday we could finish the outline," Justin says, closing his notebook. Then, more casually, "But hey, if you want we can always work on it tomorrow instead."
There's something careful in the way he says it. Something that feels like he's leaving the decision up to me.
I swallow, glancing away. "I'll think about it."
Justin nods, and for a second, I swear he looks almost disappointed.
But the moment is gone too fast to be sure. He stands, grabs his bag, and with a final look back at me, he walks away.
I exhale, slumping back in my chair. The room feels heavier now. The words on the page in front of me a blur.
I stare at them, but all I can think about is the way Justin looked at me just before he left. And the way, for the first time, I wasn't sure what I wanted.
The late afternoon air is crisp, the dying embers of sunlight casting long, stretching shadows over the sidewalk as I make my way home. The library's familiar weight still clings to me–the scratch of pen on paper, the hum of hushed conversations, the lingering warmth of Justin's gaze.
I shake my head, exhaling slowly. I need to clear my thoughts. Whatever that was between us, it doesn't matter.
What matters is figuring out my nightmares.
The symbols.
The box in my dream.
The fear in my mother's eyes.
The memory of my nightmare is still sharp, clinging to my skin like an unseen touch. I wrap my arms around myself as a cold gust of wind slithers through the trees lining the sidewalk.
Then—a presence. I stop walking. That prickling sensation, like being watched, slithers down my spine. Slowly, I glance over my shoulder.
Natalia.
She's leaning casually against a lamppost a few feet ahead, just past the curve in the road that leads toward our neighborhood. The dim light halos her auburn hair, making her look almost ethereal, almost…..unreal.
Like she's stepped out of a different time.
She's dressed impeccably, as always—-fitted jeans, an expensive-looking jacket, completely unfazed by the chill in the air. One foot is crossed over the other, her arms folded against her chest, a perfectly painted smirk curing at the edge of her lips.
Like she was waiting for me.
I swallow hard, my heartbeat suddenly too loud in my ears.
"Going somewhere?" Natalia's voice is silky, but there's a bite beneath it, something sharp hidden under all that effortless charm.
I force my feet to move, closing the distance between us but keeping just enough space to breathe. "Home," I say simply, bracing myself for whatever this is.
Natalia tilts her head slightly, studying me like a puzzle she can't quite figure out. "Mmm," she hums, dragging out the sound. "You and Justin seemed awfully close today."
My stomach twists, but there's no amusement in her eyes. "That's cute. Really. But I think you and I both know Justin isn't the kind of guy you just work on a project with."
The words sit between us, heavy.
A warning.
I grip the strap of my bag tighter. I won't play her game. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Natalia lets out a soft, almost pitying laugh. "Oh, Sarah." She leans in slightly, lowering her voice. "You have no idea what you've stepped into, do you?"
Something in the way she says it–not just the words, but the way they settle into my bones—makes my breath hitch.
She knows something.
I steel myself, lifting my chin. "If you have something to say, Natalia, just say it."
For a fraction of a second, something flickers behind her green eyes. Something sharp. Calculating. Unnervingly familiar.
Then, just as quickly, it's gone.
Natalia exhales through her nose, tilting her head toward the sky like she's thinking, choosing her next words carefully. Then she leans in closer.
Too close.
Close enough that I catch the faintest scent of something—not perfume, not shampoo. Something….old.
"Stay. Away. From. Justin," she murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. "Before it's too late."
A cold weight settles in my chest. The words aren't a threat.
They're a promise.
For a moment, neither of us move. The air between us is taut, stretched thin like an unspoken challenge.
Then, as if nothing happened, Natalia straightens, flipping her hair over one shoulder. The smirk is back, but it's different now.
Satisfied.
Like she's just planted a seed and is waiting to watch it grow.
She steps around me effortlessly, her boots clicking against the pavement. "See you at school, Sarah," she calls over her shoulder.
I stand frozen, watching her retreating form. The street is quiet. Too quiet.My pulse thrums in my ears, I release a long breath slowly, but the unease doesn't leave me.
Instead, it settles.
Deep.
Like a whisper in my bones, telling me something I don't to admit. She's right. I have stepped into something.
Whatever it is—Justin and Natalia are at the center of it.