Raine lingered in the kitchen doorway, watching her mother move quietly about the room. The morning light spilled through the curtains, catching in her mother's hair, but it did nothing to soften the heaviness in her shoulders. She seemed older somehow, as though the weight of the night had carved deeper lines into her face.
Raine cleared her throat. "Mum?"
Her mother paused, her back stiffening before she turned. "Yes, baby?"
Raine shifted uneasily, fingers playing with the hem of her sleeve. "Last night… I thought I heard something. A voice. It called my name."
For the smallest moment, something flickered across her mother's face—fear, sharp and raw. But it vanished so quickly Raine wondered if she'd imagined it.
"Raine," her mother said carefully, "sometimes the mind plays tricks. Especially when we're tired."
Raine stepped further into the room, her golden eyes burning with quiet defiance. "This wasn't a trick. You've always told me to stay away from the forest, but you never tell me why. Everyone else says it's cursed, but you… you sound like you know something more."
Her mother's hands stilled on the counter. Silence stretched between them, taut as a bowstring.
"Why won't you tell me the truth?" Raine demanded, her voice trembling. "Why are you so afraid of me going there? What is it that you're not saying?"
Her mother turned away, shoulders rising and falling with a heavy breath. When she finally spoke, her voice was low, almost broken. "Because that place has already taken too much from us. More than you will ever understand. If you value your life—if you value mine—stay away, Raine. Please."
The pleading in her tone cut deep, but it only sharpened Raine's frustration. She wanted to shout, to demand answers, but the hollow ache in her mother's eyes silenced her. Whatever truth lay behind those words, her mother would not give it to her. Not yet.
Later, in the quiet of her room, Raine pressed her forehead against the cold glass of her window. Her mother's words echoed again and again, tightening the knot of questions in her chest. She told herself she wouldn't go. That she'd obey, for once. That the forest wasn't worth the pain in her mother's eyes.
But as dusk bled into the sky, the whispers returned. Softer this time, coaxing, like the sigh of leaves in the wind. They curled around her thoughts, tugging at her, reminding her of the fox with the amber eyes… of the voice that had called her name.
Her feet carried her before her mind could stop them.
The forest stood before her once again, its towering trees shadowed against the fading light. For a moment, she hovered at the edge, heart hammering, every instinct urging her to turn back. She almost did. Almost.
Then the path opened. Subtle, deliberate—the same way it had before. The trees seemed to shift, beckoning her inward.
Raine stepped forward.
The air inside was thick with silence. No bird sang. No insect stirred. Only the soft crunch of her boots on the forest floor filled her ears. The deeper she went, the stronger the pull became, as though something in the shadows recognized her… wanted her.
She stopped suddenly.
There—between the trees.
Two eyes glimmered in the dimness. At first she thought they were the same as before—golden, sharp, unblinking. But then the light shifted, and her breath caught.
Not just gold. Green threaded through them now, sparking like emerald fire around the edges of molten gold. Alive, impossible, mesmerizing.
Her chest tightened. No… that's not right. Last night they were only golden. I saw them. I know what I saw.
Yet here they were, golden-green, locked onto hers with a weight that made her knees weak.
The shadows seemed to lean closer. The forest itself held its breath.
Raine's pulse thundered. She wanted to run, but her body refused to move. Those eyes were not merely watching her. They were studying her. Knowing her.
And in that instant, deep in her bones, Raine understood one terrifying truth: whoever—or whatever—those eyes belonged to… they had been waiting for her.