The first thing Isabella felt was water. Cool, gentle ripples brushing against her skin. Her lashes fluttered as she sat up slowly, her hair clinging wetly to her shoulders. The faint scent of rain and lilies filled the air. For a moment, she thought she was still dreaming.
She blinked, her eyes adjusting to the soft, silvery glow that surrounded her. The world around her was quiet — too quiet. No sound of night insects, no echo of voices, no Glimora curling beside her. Only the low hum of wind brushing over still water.
She looked down and realized she was sitting in the middle of a pond — not deep, but wide, the water smooth as glass beneath the pale shimmer of the moon. The sky above her wasn't the familiar night she knew. It was strange — streaked with faint colors that moved, alive, like the surface of an oil painting.
"Hello?" Her voice broke the silence. "Where… where am I?"
