The air in her dream was thick, heavy—wrong.
Opal stood in the middle of a dark forest, but the trees weren't just trees.
Their twisted branches curled inward, forming a cage around her. The sky above was too black, too empty, too endless. There was no moon, no stars—just a void.
A whisper slid through the trees, soft as silk, sharp as a blade.
"You thought you escaped?"
Opal's breath hitched.
The whisper wasn't coming from one direction.
It was everywhere.
Circling her. Crawling through the shadows.
The trees trembled, their bark splitting apart like cracking skin.
Then—laughter.
Low, amused, knowing.
Opal spun around, her pulse hammering, searching for the source.
Then she saw it.
A figure.
Standing just at the edge of the darkness, half-hidden, half-watching.
Not moving. Not blinking.
Her stomach twisted.
She knew—she knew—if she saw its face, everything would change.
And yet—
She couldn't see it.
