A distant cry rose through the dark—thin, sharp as flint on steel, tearing the hush of night as though the very sky itself had been rent open by some unseen blade. A hunter's call, raw and commanding, yet— inexplicably familiar.
Even now, though I sit upright, breathless and trembling in the waking world, I can recall that night with a clarity so harrowing it feels as though it were pressed into my soul with molten iron. The memory clings to me like cobwebs, sticky and invisible, tugging on the frayed edges of my sanity whenever I close my eyes.
My dreams have always been vivid—living tapestries stitched with impossible detail, embroidered in light and sound, stitched with breath and heartbeat. But this dream… this one was something else. A vision, perhaps, or a prophecy sewn into my subconscious with brutal precision. It had been more than a nightmare. It had been real.
I remember the thundering of my heart first—the wild, unrelenting cadence hammering against my ribcage as if it meant to break free. A terrible, primal drumbeat that echoed through every trembling limb, every breathless gasp, urging me forward through that endless night.
The forest had swallowed me whole.
Ancient and breathing, it rose around me like some primeval titan, its trees arching high, skeletal limbs clawing at the waning moonlight. Shadows bled together beneath the gnarled canopy, shifting, watching. Every flicker of movement twisted into some spectral menace in my periphery. The earth itself betrayed me, slick with dew and treacherous with curling roots that writhed like serpents, eager to catch my feet and pull me down into the waiting dark.
I ran, lungs burning, legs quaking beneath me, though my body felt half-paralyzed by the crushing weight of dread that stalked me with every step. I did not dare look back. I could feel it there—the thing that hunted me. Its breath pressed hot against the back of my neck, a presence too vast, too monstrous for my mind to fully comprehend. Its malice radiated from the shadows like poison in the air, seeping into my pores, coiling through my veins.
I was prey.
A trembling rabbit, hopelessly outmatched.
Terror wove icy fingers around my throat, tightening with every gasping breath, constricting until my vision swam with black edges. My body screamed for rest, but I could not stop. I dared not stop. The terror was relentless, gnawing at the edges of my consciousness like sharp teeth in the dark.
Then—like a thread through the chaos—a second cry echoed above me.
The bird.
High above, it soared—its wings slicing through the night with effortless grace. Its cry rang clear, cutting through the fog of my fear like the tolling of a great bell. My heart leapt to meet it.
I did not know why, but I felt it then—somehow, this creature was bound to me. Its fierce call seared through the night, as though it alone knew I was there, stumbling and breaking beneath the weight of my terror. I could almost feel its gaze, sharp and all-seeing, tethering me to the sky.
It called again—louder, closer this time—and I found myself reaching for it in my mind, as if my spirit could take wing and ride upon the wind with it. For a fleeting moment, I could see through its eyes.
The forest spread out beneath us, a twisting labyrinth of roots and thorn. From its vantage, I saw what my own terrified eyes could not: paths winding like veins through the dense undergrowth, a way forward. A way out.
Hope—foolish and fragile—sparked within me.
I veered left, narrowly avoiding a gnarled tree whose bark stretched out like skeletal fingers, grasping for me. My pulse hammered in my ears, a ceaseless tide of sound. I felt the icy bite of sweat running in rivulets down my back, soaking my nightdress, binding it to my skin like a second layer of flesh. My legs trembled with each step, exhaustion biting into muscle and bone, yet I pressed onward.
I had to. I had to.
The forest seemed to close in, trunks leaning ever nearer, the air thickening with an oppressive weight. My breath came ragged now, torn from me in gasps that burned my throat raw. The thing behind me had not slowed—if anything, it seemed to grow stronger, faster, hungrier. I could feel the pull of it, as if its presence reached inside me, clawing at my heart, trying to rip it free.
And still, the bird cried.
Steady. Unyielding. Faithful.
Its call drove me onward when my body would have crumbled. I clung to that sound, desperate for something—anything—to hold onto in the sea of terror that threatened to consume me.
Then, without warning, the ground gave way beneath my feet. My ankle twisted, pitching me forward into the bramble. Pain flared through my body, sharp as glass. I tasted earth and blood as I scrambled, tearing at roots and thorn, dragging myself back to my feet with trembling hands.
No. Not like this. Not now.
I forced myself forward, though my body screamed in protest. The bird circled once more overhead, its shadow a fleeting whisper across the forest floor. My heart ached with gratitude for its presence, for its unspoken promise that I was not alone in this endless night.
But then— silence.
The bird was gone.
The air hung heavy, still and thick, like the breath before a storm. The weight of dread surged anew, thick as tar, seeping into every inch of me.
I turned—just once—too afraid not to.
Darkness loomed. A shape without form, vast and terrible, rushing toward me like a wave of living shadow.
I screamed.
The world shattered.
I bolted upright in my bed, drenched in cold sweat, the scream still raw in my throat. My hands clawed at the tangled sheets, breath sawing in and out of my lungs like broken glass. The darkness of my bedroom pressed in, far too close, too real.
I shoved my face into my pillow, muffling the broken sounds that clawed their way from my chest. I couldn't bear to wake the others—to drag them into the terror that still gripped me like iron chains.
And yet— as I sat there, heart still hammering, throat raw and aching, I knew with bone-deep certainty that it had not been just a dream.
Something had shifted.
Something… was coming.