The earth didn't just stir—it screamed.
A hand punched through the grave, fingers crooked and clawing at the moonlight. Dirt rained in sheets as the ground split open, and a girl rose from the dead with a gasp that shattered the silence.
Above her, the forest held its breath. Shadows rippled. Crows scattered.
And at the edge of the clearing stood an old woman wrapped in a tattered cloak, her eyes gleaming silver.
"Rise, little star," she said. "You belong to the flame."
The girl—mud-soaked, trembling, wild-eyed—collapsed to her knees. The earth hissed beneath her like it still wasn't finished letting go.
"Who... who am I?" she rasped.
The woman smiled. "You are Briar. And the world has been waiting for you."
Lightning tore across the sky.