The first thing I noticed was the cold.
Not the sharp kind that bites and wakes you up all at once, but the heavy, damp cold that seeps into your bones like it's always been there and you're the one who's late. It pressed against my back, my arms, my legs, and for a long moment I couldn't tell where my body ended and the ground began.
The second thing I noticed was pain.
It bloomed slowly, like my nerves were waking up in the wrong order. Shoulder first. Hip second. Then a dull, throbbing ache behind my eyes that pulsed every time my heart beat, as if my skull was politely reminding me that gravity and I had recently disagreed.
I groaned.
The sound echoed.
That was bad.
I opened my eyes.
Darkness stared back.
For a split second, panic slammed into me so hard I forgot how to breathe. My chest tightened, my fingers clawed uselessly at the ground, and my brain screamed one very unhelpful thought on repeat.
I'm buried.
Then I saw the light.
It wasn't much. Just a pale, uneven circle far above me, rimmed with jagged shadows. Dirt and roots framed it like broken teeth. Dust drifted lazily through the beam, turning it into something almost solid.
The hole.
I remembered falling.
The leaves giving way. The sickening drop. The way the light had shrunk as the ground rushed up to meet me.
"Okay," I whispered hoarsely. My throat burned. "Okay. Not buried. That's good."
My voice sounded wrong down here. Smaller. Like the cave was swallowing the sound before it could decide what to do with it.
I shifted, then immediately regretted it.
Pain flared through my shoulder, sharp enough to make me gasp. I bit down hard, clamping my teeth together until the wave passed, stars dancing at the edges of my vision.
"Fantastic," I muttered. "Ten out of ten. Would fall again."
I lay still for a moment, focusing on breathing. In through my nose. Out through my mouth. Slow. Controlled. Panic didn't help anything, and I'd had plenty of practice keeping it on a short leash.
When my head stopped spinning, I tried again.
Carefully, this time.
My fingers brushed against rough stone. The ground beneath me wasn't dirt anymore. It was solid, uneven rock, cold and slightly damp. I pushed myself up onto my elbows, hissing as my shoulder protested, and tilted my head back.
The hole was higher than I'd thought.
Much higher.
The light from above barely reached the cave floor. Shadows clung to the walls, thick and layered, like the dark had weight here. Roots hung down in tangled strands, some swaying slightly, though there was no wind.
That bothered me.
I tested my legs next. Toes first. Ankles. Knees.
They worked.
That was another point in my favor.
Slowly, I sat up.
The cave smelled like earth and stone and something else I couldn't quite place. Not rot. Not mold. Just… old. Like the air itself had been waiting a very long time.
I brushed dirt from my hands and jeans, then froze.
There was another light.
Not above me.
Ahead.
It was faint at first, barely more than a suggestion, like someone had drawn a line of pale gold across the darkness and forgotten to finish it. But the longer I stared, the clearer it became.
A tunnel.
It curved gently away from where I'd landed, the rock walls narrowing and smoothing as it went. And at the far end—too far to see clearly, but close enough to feel—there was light.
Warm light.
Not the cold, distant glow of the hole overhead.
This light felt… closer.
Inviting.
My chest tightened.
"That's not suspicious at all," I whispered.
I looked back up at the hole.
Climbing was technically an option. The walls were rough, and the roots might hold my weight if I was careful. But my shoulder throbbed just thinking about it, and the distance looked worse from below.
And then there was the other problem.
I didn't want to climb out.
The realization settled over me slowly, like a fog.
It wasn't fear that stopped me. Or pain. Or common sense, which was probably on vacation at this point.
It was the pull.
The feeling in my chest had grown stronger, a low, steady tug that seemed to point directly toward the tunnel. Not physical. Not something I could describe in words I trusted.
Just a sense of this way.
I pressed a hand to my sternum, half-expecting to feel something moving under my skin.
"Okay," I said, louder now. "Okay, Mara. You fell into a hole in a restricted forest. The correct response is to climb out, report it, and never talk about this again."
The cave did not respond.
The light ahead flickered, just slightly.
I swallowed.
The pull tightened.
I stood.
The cave floor sloped gently downward toward the tunnel, uneven but manageable. I took one cautious step, then another, testing my balance. My shoulder still ached, but it was bearable. My head felt clearer now, the ringing in my ears fading.
With each step, the light ahead grew brighter.
So did the feeling.
It wasn't urgent. It didn't rush me. If anything, it felt patient. Like it knew I'd come eventually, whether I walked or not.
That thought sent a shiver down my spine.
I moved anyway.
The tunnel walls changed as I went deeper. The rough stone smoothed, the jagged edges worn away as if by countless hands brushing past over time. Faint markings etched the rock in irregular patterns, too worn to make sense of.
I reached out and traced one with my fingers.
The stone was warm.
I jerked my hand back.
Stone wasn't supposed to be warm.
My breath came faster now, echoing softly around me. The cave no longer felt empty. Not full either. Just… aware.
The light ahead widened, spilling into the tunnel in soft waves. I rounded a bend and stopped short.
The exit wasn't what I expected.
The tunnel opened into a natural arch, the rock framing something that looked like a wall of air. It shimmered faintly, like heat rising off asphalt in summer, except smoother. Thicker.
A film.
A bubble.
It stretched across the entire opening, perfectly sealed, its surface rippling gently as if stirred by a breeze I couldn't feel. Light filtered through it, golden and diffuse, casting the cave behind me into deeper shadow.
On the other side, I could see shapes.
Trees.
Leaves.
A sky that looked wrong in a way I couldn't explain.
My heart hammered.
"This is… not normal," I whispered.
The pull in my chest surged, sharp and insistent now, like it was pleased I'd finally found it.
I stepped closer.
The air grew warmer with every inch, carrying a scent that didn't belong underground. Fresh. Green. Alive.
I lifted a hand, hesitating inches from the shimmering surface.
Up close, it looked like soap stretched too thin, translucent and fragile, though something about it felt immensely strong. The surface quivered slightly, responding to my presence.
I hesitated.
Every instinct I had—the ones drilled into me by years of rules and warnings and common sense—screamed at me to stop.
Then the pull tightened again.
Not painful.
Just… expectant.
I swallowed and pressed my fingertips forward.
The surface gave way with a faint resistance, like pushing through thick gel. It tingled against my skin, a strange, crawling sensation that made my stomach flip. The air hummed softly, vibrating up my arm and into my chest.
I yanked my hand back, heart racing.
My fingers were fine.
No burns. No injuries.
Just a lingering warmth that faded slowly.
"That was," I said weakly, "very weird."
The film rippled again, wider this time, as if inviting me to finish what I'd started.
Behind me, the cave felt colder. Heavier.
Ahead of me, the light pulsed.
I took a deep breath.
"I have made worse decisions," I told myself. "Probably."
Then I stepped forward and pushed through the barrier.
For half a second, the world turned thick.
Sound dulled. Light smeared. My skin prickled from head to toe, like a thousand tiny pins pressing into me at once. The air tasted metallic, sharp and clean, the way it smells right before lightning hits.
Then I was through.
I stumbled forward onto damp ground and caught myself on a tree trunk before I could face-plant into whatever dimension I'd just trespassed into.
"Okay," I panted, hand pressed to the bark. "Okay. New worst decision."
The air out here was warmer than the cave, but not in a comforting way. It had a strange density to it, like it carried extra weight. Breathing felt normal, technically, but my lungs noticed the difference. Like walking into a room where someone had changed the rules while you weren't looking.
I turned around.
The cave entrance was still there, framed by stone and roots and shadow, but the barrier… wasn't.
Not exactly.
It looked like the surface of a bubble stretched across the opening, shimmering faintly. Except now the shimmer was stronger, like it was reacting to the light outside. The film trembled with subtle ripples that moved in patterns too deliberate to be random.
I stared at it.
It stared back.
Which was ridiculous, because it was air.
Air shouldn't look like it had opinions.
I stepped closer and reached out again, slower this time.
The moment my fingers touched the surface, the same tingling resistance pushed against my skin. It wasn't painful. It was just… wrong. Like my hand was being politely told it didn't belong.
I pressed harder.
The film gave.
Not much. Just enough to let my fingertips sink through with mild effort. It clung to my skin when I pulled back, like a thin layer of static.
I wiped my hand on my jeans.
That did nothing, because you can't wipe off "existential discomfort."
"Cool," I whispered. "So there's a bubble door to… wherever I am. Great. Love that for me."
I looked around.
The forest was… familiar, but only in the way a dream can look like your house while still being obviously not your house.
The trees were tall, thicker than the pines back home, their bark almost black in places. Their leaves were the wrong shade of green—too deep, too saturated, like someone had taken nature and turned the contrast up. Light filtered through the canopy in uneven beams that shifted without wind, drifting across the ground like slow-moving spotlights.
And the silence—
It wasn't quiet the way the real woods got quiet.
This silence felt purposeful.
Like everything was holding its breath.
My skin prickled again.
I should've turned around. Pushed back through the bubble, climbed out of the hole, reported the sinkhole, accepted whatever punishment came with trespassing, and moved on with my life.
Instead, I took a step forward.
Because the pull in my chest hadn't gone away.
It was stronger now.
Out here, it felt like a string tied to my ribs, gently tugging me along like I was a balloon that hadn't realized it was being led.
"This is fine," I muttered. "This is totally something normal people experience. I'm sure there's a form for this."
I limped forward, favoring my sore hip. My shoulder still throbbed, but moving helped a little, like my body was deciding it would rather complain later than stop now.
The ground under my feet was soft, springy with moss. It muffled my steps, which should've been comforting, except it made it feel like the forest was trying to sneak me into itself.
I followed the pull.
There wasn't a path. Not a real one. But the trees seemed to arrange themselves in a way that guided me, the underbrush thinning where I needed to go. Every time I hesitated, that tug inside my chest tightened just slightly, like a quiet reminder.
As I walked, the air filled with smells I couldn't name.
Green, yes. Earth, yes.
But also something sweet and sharp, like crushed mint and smoke and rain all at once.
I kept expecting to hear something—birds, insects, distant traffic, a base siren, anything that belonged to my world.
Nothing did.
My thoughts tried to sprint ahead into panic again. I forced them back.
Step. Breathe. Look. Listen.
Do not spiral.
My dad used to say something like that when I got upset as a kid. He'd kneel down, tap the center of my forehead like he was pressing an imaginary button, and go, "Okay, Kiddo. Reset."
I hadn't thought about that in a long time.
The pull led me toward a low hill.
The trees here were thicker, closer together. Their branches reached overhead like tangled fingers. The light grew dimmer, filtered through leaves that didn't rustle even when I brushed past them.
I slowed, every nerve alert.
Then I heard it.
A sound in the distance.
Not the wind.
Not water.
A low, rolling noise that reminded me of a growl, except stretched out, like something big was dragging its voice across the ground.
I froze.
My heart thudded once, hard.
The sound came again, closer now, followed by a sharp crack—wood snapping.
I crouched behind a fallen log without thinking, breathing shallow, hands pressed to the damp bark. My brain finally caught up with reality and started screaming again.
You are in a forest that is not your forest.
You crossed through a bubble.
Something is making that sound.
I peered over the log.
At first, I saw nothing but trees and shadow.
Then something moved between the trunks.
Too large.
Too low to the ground.
A shape slid into a patch of dim light and my stomach dropped.
It looked like an animal, except… wrong.
Its body was long and heavy, like a bear's, but its limbs were too many, bending at angles that made my shoulder ache in sympathy. Its head was narrow and pointed, and where its eyes should have been were two pale, reflective spots that caught the light like wet stones.
It sniffed the air.
And I knew—absolutely knew—it wasn't sniffing for food.
It was sniffing for me.
I clamped a hand over my mouth so I wouldn't make a sound.
The creature moved again, dragging itself forward with a wet, scraping noise. Its claws dug into the earth, leaving deep grooves in the moss.
I stayed perfectly still.
My muscles shook.
My mind raced through options with the useless speed of panic.
Option one: run.
Option two: run faster.
Option three: accept that my final moment would be crouching behind a log while thinking about a motivational poster.
The creature paused.
Its head tilted slightly, as if listening.
Then it made that stretched-out growl again, lower this time, vibrating through the ground. The sound made my teeth ache.
A second shape shifted farther back in the trees.
Not as big.
But moving the same wrong way.
There were two.
My throat went dry.
The pull in my chest tightened again, and for the first time, it didn't feel like guidance.
It felt like impatience.
Like whatever was calling me didn't care that I was currently being hunted by a nightmare.
I pressed myself lower behind the log, trying to slow my breathing.
Please don't look here.
Please don't look here.
The creature's pale eyes glinted.
It turned its head directly toward me.
I froze so hard I swear my blood stopped moving.
It took one slow step closer.
Then another.
Its claws dug into the moss. The wet scraping sound got louder.
My heart pounded so hard my ribs hurt.
I told myself it couldn't hear that.
I told myself that was impossible.
The creature opened its mouth.
Not wide, not dramatic.
Just enough to show teeth that weren't teeth.
They were jagged, uneven, like broken glass embedded in flesh.
It took another step.
And then the log I was hiding behind shifted slightly under my weight—
Just a fraction.
Barely anything.
But the creature snapped its head fully toward me.
The second creature made a sound too, answering the first.
They knew.
I didn't move.
For one heartbeat, I stayed crouched there like a statue, locked between terror and denial.
Then the first creature lunged.
It moved impossibly fast, crossing the distance in a blur of limbs and claws. The log splintered as its weight slammed into it, wood cracking like a gunshot.
I screamed.
I didn't mean to.
It just ripped out of me like my body was trying to scare the monster away by reminding it that I was loud.
I rolled sideways, dirt and moss exploding under my hands as I scrambled to my feet. Pain flared through my shoulder, but adrenaline drowned it.
I ran.
Branches whipped my face. Roots tried to trip me. The forest blurred around me, dark trunks and wrong-green leaves spinning past.
Behind me, the creature crashed through the underbrush, faster than it should've been. I heard its claws tearing into the ground, its growl dragging through the air like a warning.
The pull in my chest yanked hard, almost making me stumble.
This way.
I didn't have time to be annoyed about being bossed around by mysterious internal compass feelings.
I turned sharply, darting between two trees so close together my shoulder scraped bark.
The forest opened into a small hollow, a dip in the ground ringed by thick roots. Light pooled there, faint and dusty.
I didn't know why I ran toward it.
I just knew the pull wanted me there.
I hit the hollow and skidded to a stop, breath ripping in and out of me, hands trembling.
The creature burst into view.
It crouched at the edge of the hollow, claws digging into the earth as it prepared to leap.
Its pale eyes fixed on me.
For a wild second, something in my mind went strangely calm.
Not peace.
Not acceptance.
Just a sharp, clear thought, like the universe had decided to hand me one small truth before it ended me.
This is real.
The creature lunged.
A hand grabbed my wrist.
The world bent.
The air snapped like a rubber band.
And everything vanished.
One moment I was in a hollow in a nightmare forest with a monster mid-leap.
The next moment I was somewhere else entirely, stumbling forward into warm lamplight and the smell of herbs and smoke and something that reminded me of old paper.
My legs gave out.
I hit a wooden floor and skidded, palms stinging.
I looked up, lungs burning.
A room.
Stone walls, but not like the cave. These stones were shaped, fitted. Shelves lined the walls, packed with jars of dried plants, bundles of twine, bits of metal, and objects I didn't recognize. A fire crackled in a hearth, casting shadows that moved in ways shadows weren't supposed to.
And standing over me—
A person.
They wore a dark cloak that looked too heavy for the warm room. Their face was partially hidden, but I could see sharp eyes watching me like I was a problem they'd expected and still didn't appreciate.
Behind them, in the doorway, the air shimmered for a second.
Then it snapped shut.
Like the forest had been cut off with scissors.
I stared at the person, breath shaking.
"You—" I managed, voice raw. "You—what—"
The person tilted their head slightly, as if considering whether I was capable of understanding words.
Then they said, flat and unimpressed, "Try not to scream next time."