**Halia's POV**
The beeping came first.
Slow. Steady. Unforgiving.
My eyes fluttered open, and white light flooded my vision. The sharp smell of antiseptic burned my nose, twisting my stomach.
Hospital.
Panic surged in my chest, but I forced it down before it could show.
"Halia…"
Mom's voice trembled.
I turned my head weakly. She sat beside the bed, eyes red and rimmed with exhaustion, her hands clenched together like she'd been praying—or bracing—for hours. The moment she saw me awake, she grabbed my hand.
"You're awake," she whispered. "Thank God."
"I'm okay," I croaked.
The words felt wrong. Like something rehearsed. Like something I'd been taught to say.
Maggie appeared a second later, slipping in close. She didn't speak. She just hugged me carefully, as if I were made of glass.
"You scared us," she murmured.
"I'm sorry."
The doctor came soon after, checking my vitals and asking questions. I answered simply. I felt dizzy. I didn't remember much. I must have fainted.
He nodded, satisfied.
When he left, the room fell quiet.
Too quiet.
Mom didn't look away from me. Her grip tightened slightly. "Do you remember how you got there?"
My chest constricted.
"Get where exactly?" I said, forcing a weak shrug. "I don't know. Everything's… blurry."
It wasn't a complete lie.
Fragments clawed at my mind—the kidnapping, the mansion hidden beyond the forest, his mother's cold eyes, the maids, the guards rushing toward me when I ran. The voice. The way it forced power into my lungs and made me scream words that didn't feel like mine.
But I swallowed it all down.
Mom searched my face like she was looking for something specific.
Something she feared I might say.
Her lips parted, then pressed together again. "That's… good," she said softly. Too softly. "Sometimes it's better not to remember."
My heart skipped.
Maggie squeezed my hand. "The important thing is you're alive."
Alive.
The word sat heavy in my chest.
After a while, Maggie stepped out to get water. A nurse called Mom into the hallway to sign some papers. Before she left, Mom paused at the door.
She looked back at me. Really looked.
"Try to rest," she said. "And if you feel… strange—call me."
Strange.
The door closed.
I was alone.
That was when my right hand started to burn.
The same sharp, pulsing heat I'd felt in that place.
*It wasn't real,* I told myself. *It had to be a dream.*
My heart pounded as I lifted my hand. Faint purple veins pulsed beneath my skin, glowing softly—slow, deliberate, alive.
"No," I whispered. "Not now."
The glow dimmed, but the pressure stayed.
Then it settled deeper.
Not fear.
Recognition.
*At last,* the voice murmured.
*You hear me clearly now.*
It wasn't loud.
It was ancient. Patient. Certain.
I squeezed my eyes shut. "Leave me alone."
A pause.
Then—
*I have never left you.*
The monitor beside me crackled. The lights flickered once.
Cold spread through my veins as I clenched my fists, forcing the sensation down—burying it, locking it away where it couldn't touch me.
The door opened.
Maggie stepped back inside. "You okay?"
I nodded too quickly. "Yeah. Just tired."
She smiled, relieved, and sat beside me.
But I stared at the ceiling, my pulse racing.
I wouldn't tell them.
Not about the forest.
Not about the words.
Not about the voice that sounded far too familiar.
Because if I was right—
Whatever had taken me hadn't lost me.
It was waiting.
And next time…
It wouldn't let me go.