Niah sat cross-legged on her old, saggy couch, a book flopped open on her lap. But she wasn't reading a single word. Her gaze was miles away, lost somewhere only she could see. There was this haunted look in her eyes, like she'd just woken up from a nightmare she couldn't quite shake.
The dream was back. Not the usual wild, jumbled mess of images that left her sweating and confused. This time it was different. It was music, a melody that felt both impossibly gentle and impossibly strong, like it had been woven out of moonlight and thunder. It sounded very old, older than anything she could name, and it had slipped through her sleep like a secret promise. Or maybe a warning. She honestly couldn't tell.
Absentmindedly, Niah rubbed her wrist, her fingers tracing the faint, silvery scar left by that mirror—yeah, that mirror. The one that had her reflection of her past, somehow during the whole process, which she failed to recognise at that time. The skin still tingled, as if the memory itself was electric.
Suddenly, from the far corner of the room, her plant pot gave a tiny rattle, just enough to make her freeze. Was it an earthquake? A truck rumbling by? Or was it something else, something she couldn't see but could definitely feel, buzzing in the air?
Niah stood up immediately, her breath catching in her throat for reasons she couldn't explain. She drifted over to the window, pressing her fingertips against the cold glass, and stared out at the horizon. Northern Grove. She could sense something telling her from inside.
A shiver crawled up her spine, and she hugged her arms around herself, trying to shake it off.
She had no clue where the Northern Grove was. It sounded like something out of a fairy tale, right? But deep down, in some hidden corner of her mind, she knew it. Or maybe she just wanted to believe she did.
Her fingers curled tight around the windowsill, knuckles white. There was this weird tension in her chest, like someone had tied a string around her heart and was pulling it tighter and tighter.
Her thoughts wandered around—no, they flew to places she'd never been, yet somehow she started remembering a few things without her consent. There were ancient trees, their roots tangled in secrets. Runes burning with firelight. And a voice—her own voice, but not quite, singing out into the darkness, calling for something she couldn't name.
And then, just for a heartbeat, she felt it: something deep inside her, buried in her bones, answering back.
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