"Raine…"
Her name coiled through the forest air again, soft and deliberate, like a secret spoken only for her. Raine's heart lurched. She whipped around, eyes wide, scanning the shadows between the trees.
No one. Nothing.
The silence pressed against her ears, thick and suffocating.
Her breath came shallow, a thin mist rising in the cool evening air. She wanted to laugh—pretend it was her imagination, just the echoes of her mother's warning playing tricks on her—but something in her chest said otherwise. This was real. The forest was alive. And it knew her name.
The fox appeared again. Its fur, a burnished red that seemed to shimmer in the dusk, almost glowed. It stepped closer, each movement unhurried, graceful, as though it had no reason to fear her. Its amber eyes locked onto hers, unblinking, ancient.
Her pulse quickened. "You again…"
The fox lowered its head, bowing in a way that sent a tremor through her. Animals didn't bow. Not to humans.
Before she could move, something drifted down through the canopy.
A feather.
It floated in slow spirals, catching faint strands of moonlight that pierced the forest ceiling. It wasn't like any feather she had ever seen—gold and crimson, as though it were aflame, yet no smoke rose from it.
Her hand lifted instinctively, trembling. When the feather touched her palm, heat seared across her skin—but it was not pain. It was alive, like fire curling around her flesh, wrapping her in warmth both terrifying and intimate.
Her eyes widened as a mark blazed onto her hand, bright as molten steel. A symbol, intricate and unfamiliar, burned across her palm. She gasped, biting her lip, but the mark refused to fade. It pulsed, like it belonged there.
Her knees weakened. "What… what is happening to me?"
The forest answered with movement. Branches groaned and bent as though bowing toward her, leaves rustled without wind, and shadows stretched unnaturally.
And then she saw him.
A figure, tall and cloaked in shadows, stood between two great oaks. He was too far to make out clearly, but his presence was undeniable—commanding, otherworldly.
Her breath caught. The fox stepped aside, as if acknowledging him.
Golden eyes. That was all she could see. Piercing, luminous, like twin suns burning through the night.
Her lips parted, but no words came. Every instinct screamed at her to run. Yet at the same time, she felt anchored—rooted to that gaze as though invisible threads bound them.
The figure didn't move. Didn't speak.
Until his voice, soft and deep, whispered again—though his lips never parted.
"Soon, Raine. Soon."
Her heart thundered against her ribs. And then—he was gone. The shadows swallowed him whole, leaving only the whisper hanging in the air.
The silence shattered her trance. Panic surged. Raine stumbled backward, clutching her marked hand to her chest, before she turned and bolted. Branches tore at her sleeves, brambles caught her ankles, the forest almost reluctant to let her escape. But still she ran.
By the time she broke through the treeline, she was gasping, chest heaving, hair plastered to her damp face.
The faint glow of home steadied her steps. She forced her breathing to slow, forced her shaking to still, but when she pushed open the wooden door, she nearly collapsed against the familiar scent of stew and warmth.
"Raine?" Her mother's voice floated from the kitchen. Gentle. Familiar. Too normal for the storm raging in Raine's chest.
Raine swallowed hard, shoving her hand into her pocket. "Y-yeah, Mum. It's me."
"Where were you? You're pale."
"I… I just needed some air," she lied, forcing her lips into a smile.
Her mother studied her from across the table, frowning slightly, but said nothing.
Later, as Raine lay in bed, the weight of the night pressed on her. She opened her hand beneath the moonlight seeping through her window. The mark glimmered faintly, like a coal waiting to reignite.
She curled her fist, pressing it against her chest. The forest's voice echoed still, chilling and intimate.
"Soon, Raine. Soon."
And in the silence of her room, with her mother's breathing audible from the next room, Raine realized something she couldn't ignore:
The forest wasn't done with her.
And neither was he.