The woods were still breathing.
It was not the kind of stillness that promised peace, but the eerie quiet that lingered after something ancient had stirred, then vanished back into the dark. The storm had passed hours ago, leaving behind a sky veined with pale clouds, swollen and restless against the moon. Damp leaves glistened with the weight of rain, and a hush clung to the earth as if the forest itself was holding its breath.
Through that silence walked a girl who did not belong.
Her steps left no sound, though she did not tread lightly. Shadows slid away from her, bending as though pulled by invisible threads toward her frame. A hood draped across her hair, obscuring her face, though the occasional gust of wind revealed pale skin and eyes that caught the moonlight with a glimmer both silver and storm-tossed. She paused near a crooked tree at the edge of the clearing, lifting her chin. Her presence made the night uneasy, as though reality itself shifted to accommodate her.
She was not a stranger to silence. She carried it with her.
Selene Nyx.
Daughter of the Sandman. Born not of daylight or fire but of dreams and shadows—the whispers between worlds. She had crossed many roads before finding this place, following the tremors left behind by the fall of Malivore. She could still taste it in the air: the residue of destruction, the grief woven into the land, the ache of a battle that had ended but not healed.
And now she was here.
Her breath fogged faintly in the cold, and for the first time that night, Selene smiled—not out of joy, but recognition. She could feel them: the other children of the supernatural, clustered together like flickering candles against the dark. The Salvatore School for the Young and Gifted. A sanctuary, a prison, a beacon—it had many names, but Selene knew one truth.
No place of dreams remained untouched by nightmares.
A branch snapped behind her.
Selene stilled, every nerve alive. She did not turn immediately, only listened. The forest rustled with ordinary life—an owl stretching its wings, the skitter of a fox—but beneath it, she felt something heavier. A presence that pressed against her awareness. It wasn't unfamiliar. She had known of her long before coming here.
"Are you going to keep hiding?" Selene's voice was low, the accent lilting, carrying the hush of midnight with it. "Or do you plan to stare at me all night?"
The figure stepped into view, cautious but certain. Blonde hair caught the moonlight, and eyes both sharp and tired fixed on Selene with a weight that dared her to run or lie.
Hope Mikaelson.
Her boots pressed into the wet earth as she drew closer, posture steady, guarded. "You're not exactly subtle," she said, voice roughened by suspicion.
Selene tilted her head, lowering her hood. Their gazes locked—Hope's, burning like a storm barely restrained, and Selene's, glimmering like the silver of a blade hidden in velvet.
"I wasn't trying to be."
Silence stretched, taut as wire. The wind stirred again, pushing strands of Selene's dark hair across her cheek.
Hope studied her, every instinct whispering danger. This girl radiated strangeness—not vampire, not witch, not werewolf. Something else. Something that didn't fit in the categories Hope had been raised to understand. And after Malivore, after the cost of survival, Hope had learned better than to ignore the unknown.
"Who are you?"
Selene let the question hang in the night, savoring the tension. Her eyes softened, not with warmth, but with a kind of melancholy curiosity. "Names are only as important as what you dream of them to be."
Hope's jaw tightened. "Try me."
At that, Selene's lips curved slightly. "Selene. Selene Nyx."
Hope repeated it under her breath, testing the weight. Nyx. It tasted like shadows, like myth. Something old. Something dangerous.
"Why are you here?"
Selene took a step closer, the world around her bending just slightly. Hope felt it—like the brush of sleep against her consciousness, that moment when waking thoughts blurred into dreams. Her pulse quickened, but she fought to stay anchored.
"I've come," Selene said softly, "because the walls between dreams and reality are thinner than you know. Something broke when Malivore fell. And if you think you've seen the worst of nightmares… you haven't."
Hope's eyes narrowed. "You sound like a threat."
Selene's gaze glimmered again, unreadable. "Or a warning."
The words lingered, chilling and cryptic.
Behind them, the forest sighed, and for the briefest moment, Hope saw it—shadows rippling unnaturally, as if alive. Faces flickered there, fleeting and pale, vanishing before she could truly see them. She blinked, breath sharp, but Selene stood calm, almost serene, watching her with the quiet patience of one who had lived inside dreams all her life.
"You felt that," Selene murmured, her tone not questioning but certain.
Hope swallowed hard. "What did you do?"
"I didn't do anything," Selene said, stepping back, her voice lowering like a lullaby laced with warning. "That was just a dream. But dreams, Hope Mikaelson, can be dangerous things."
how about that not bad right. please comment if something wrong in writing. i will fix them.