I shouldn’t have taken this road.

The forest presses in on both sides, the dirt path barely wide enough for my boots. My bag digs into my shoulder, my legs ache from walking, and my stomach twists in knots. I glance up at the sky. Too clear. Too still. The wind dies completely, and the silence feels… heavy. Wrong.

I step carefully, but the ground beneath me trembles. A branch snaps. My heart leaps. Then the space in front of me splits open, like fabric tearing. Light gushes out, blinding me, pulsing like it’s alive. My lungs seize.

Before I can scream, the ground disappears.

I’m falling. Not down a slope, not into anything I can see—just falling through nothing. Pain explodes in my chest. My stomach flips. My vision fractures, stretching and twisting like I’m being pulled inside out.

Impact hits me like a hammer. Dirt scrapes my palms and knees. I try to move but my body refuses. Every muscle aches, my head pounds, and my chest burns with every breath I manage to take.

I open my eyes. The sky above is wrong. Darker, deeper than any night I’ve seen, veins of faint blue light rippling through it. Trees surround me, enormous and glowing faintly, whispering in a language I don’t know.

I force myself to stand, wobbling, trying not to vomit from dizziness and fear.

Then I hear voices. Human voices.

“Over here!” someone shouts.

Relief crashes over me so hard I stumble toward them. A man and a woman emerge from the trees, wide-eyed. Their clothes look strange, but at least they’re human. The man reaches out to steady me. The woman’s hand hovers near her mouth, unsure what to do.

I try to speak, but my throat feels raw. My head spins. My mind scrambles. I don’t know what’s happening, what this place even is. My lips move, forming words I don’t fully believe:

“I… I was walking from... I…"The world around me fades as I black out.

I wake up choking on the smell of smoke and herbs.

My eyes snap open and immediately regret it. My head pounds like something is trying to claw its way out from the inside. I groan and squeeze my eyes shut again, breathing through the nausea.

I’m not on the street anymore.

I’m lying on a narrow bed, rough blankets pulled up to my chest. The ceiling above me is wooden, darkened by age and soot. A fire crackles nearby, soft and steady. Somewhere, something liquid bubbles.

I don’t recognize any of it.

Panic hits fast.

I push myself upright, ignoring the way my body protests, and swing my legs off the bed. The floor is cold beneath my feet. Real. Solid. Not a dream.

“Easy.”

I spin toward the voice, heart slamming.

A man stands near the doorway, holding a bowl in his hands. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in clothes that look handmade—leather, rough fabric, worn boots. His dark hair is pulled back, eyes sharp but not unkind.

“You’ve been out for hours,” he says. “Don’t pass out again.”

“Where am I?” My voice comes out hoarse. “What is this place?”

“Graythorn Village,” he answers. “You fell near the treeline. Gave everyone a scare.”

I stare at him. “I didn’t fall.”

His jaw tightens, like he expected that.

“Drink,” he says instead, stepping closer and holding out the bowl. “Mira says it’ll help.”

I don’t trust him. Or the bowl. Or this place. But my hands are shaking, and my throat feels like sandpaper. I take it anyway, fingers brushing his. The liquid is warm, bitter, grounding.

It helps. A little.

“Who are you?” I ask.

“Alden.”

I nod slowly, committing it to memory. “I want to go home.”

Silence.

That’s all the answer I need.

My chest tightens. “I was just walking,” I say, the words tumbling out now. “I didn’t do anything. I don’t know how I got here.”

“I know,” he says quietly.

That makes it worse.

The door creaks open and an older woman steps inside, her gray hair braided down her back, eyes sharp and assessing. She smells like herbs and smoke and something comforting.

“You’re awake,” she says. “Good. You’re stubborn. That’s a good sign.”

“Where am I really?” I ask her.

She studies me for a long moment. Too long.

“Safe,” she finally says. “For now.”

I don’t like the for now part.

She checks my injuries, muttering to herself, then straightens. “You can stay,” she says firmly. “At least until you’re strong enough to walk without falling over.”

“I don’t have money,” I say automatically.

She snorts. “Good. Neither do we.”

Alden huffs a quiet laugh.

I look between them, this strange room, the fire, the wooden walls—and a terrifying truth settles in my gut.

Whatever happened to me…

Whatever that light was…

I don’t think it was an accident.

And as night settles outside, the air shifts—subtle, almost imperceptible.

Far away, something ancient stirs.

I don’t feel it.