Moonlight faded, and with her heart pounding, Ava sprinted through the Manor's private gardens, which melted into the ancient Woodland chase. The deeper she went, the taller the trees grew, casting twisted shadows that writhed in the dimming light. Her breath came fast, each step muffled by moss and fallen leaves.
She reached the old oak Damien had described in the note. It's roots clawed at the earth like gnarled fingers. Circling the massive trunk, Ava called out softly, "Damien... are you here?"
Only silence replied - eerie, thick and watching.
Her gaze fell upon the tree's bark. A message was carved deep into the wood as though by a blade centuries old.
"The shadow's Gift. Remember."
She traced the words with her fingertips, whispering them as if they might unlock a hidden door in her mind. 'The shadow's Gift. Remember.'
Suddenly, twigs snapped behind her. Ava spun, her pulse surging. "Damien?" She called, voice trembling. "Is that you? Please answer me!"
The snapping stopped.
Silence fell again - too complete, too unnatural.
The air shifted. Cold mist coiled around her feet like curious hands. The forest blurred.
Then everything... shifted.
The ground trembled beneath her boots and her vision blurred. She blinked - but the forest was no longer the same. The trees loomed taller, their trunks blackened and scorched, their leaves dripping shadow. Above her, the sky had turned a bruised violet, pierced by a blood-red moon.
Ava stumbled back, disoriented.
"Where... am I?"
And then she saw it - a figure standing in the distance, cloaked and faceless. A crown of thorns rested atop it's head, and from its outstretched hand dripped a black flame that did not burn, only consumed.
The figure raised its hand.
Ava couldn't move. Her feet were rooted , her body frozen.
The black flame spiraled toward Ava's chest - silent, cold, inevitable.
But before it could reach her, the vision around her twisted again.
She was no longer in the forest.
The world blinked - now she stood atop the castle walls of Midston, but they were no longer whole. Stone crumbled beneath her boots. Smoke coiled into the sky, thick with ash and the scents of burning banners. The once-golden spires of the castle were cracked, blackened, and broken.
Below her, the kingdom burned.
Ava stepped forward, drawn to the edge. Flame danced in the streets. Shadows slithed through alleyways - figures cloaked in darkness, faceless and inhuman.
A mirror appeared before her, floating in midair - smooth as silver and rimmed with runes she did not recognize. Ava stared into it.
She saw herself - older. Battle-worn. A crown of twisted metal upon her brow, her eyes glowing with unfamiliar power. In one hand, she held a blade of light. In the other, a shard of pure shadow.
Behind this future self, a figure loomed.
Tall. Hooded. A skeletal hand resting on her shoulder. Ava recoiled.
Then a voice - Damien's voice - whispered from the shadows.
"Choose the light... or become the shadow."
Before she could respond, the mirror shattered. It's shards flew towards her like knives -
And she woke with a sharp gasp, tangled in her bed sheets, her skin damp with sweat.
The moonlight still poured through her window.
But everything had changed.
Ava sat upright in bed, clutching her sheets as if they might anchor her to the waking world. Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, the echo of Damien's voice still tangled in her thoughts.
She pressed a hand to her heart - half expecting the black flame to still be there.
But only silence, and the soft rustle of night wind through the trees beyond her window.
Rising unsteadily, she crossed the room to her writing desk and lit a small candle. With trembling hands, she opened her journal and began to write.
'The castle burned. A crown. A blade of light. A shard of shadow. His voice - choose the light or become the shadow.'
She paused, quill hovering, her brow furrowed.
What did it mean?
And why did it feel... like more than a dream?