It was clear rain would fall tonight; the air had that heavy, unsettled feel that always came before a storm.
Mahika stood alone at the edge of her apartment courtyard, staring at nothing in particular. Her breath slipped out of her in a thin, shaky thread that fogged faintly in the cold air. The streetlights buzzed overhead—weak, flickering, unreliable. The asphalt still radiated leftover heat from the day, but inside her chest… nothing was warm.
Just weight.
Just pressure.
The kind that had been building for weeks, creeping into her mornings, whispering at her every time another deadline showed up. She told herself not to feel this way, not to take it personally, not to crumble—but the pressure only tightened each time she tried to ignore it.
She rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hand, holding the tears back out of stubborn habit. It wasn't anything dramatic. Just another bad day stacked on top of too many bad days. But she was tired—tired of bracing for impact, tired of pretending she was fine, tired of crying over things she couldn't control.
Her phone buzzed again. Another work notification.
She didn't even look.
Mahika simply turned and started walking, hoping each step might make breathing easier. Midnight in the city usually felt safe to her—quiet, private, familiar. Tonight it felt like a cage.
Too tight around her ribs.
Too loud in her head.
She turned off the main road and slipped into the riverside path. The sky was darker here, streaked with long smudges of gray clouds, and the moon hung pale and tired above everything. It looked exhausted. It looked like the city.
It looked like her.
Mahika inhaled, shaky.
Exhaled.
Kept walking.
She'd been carrying a heaviness she couldn't name anymore. Just a sense—deep, creeping, wrong—that something in her life had quietly slipped off its axis. She felt stretched thin, like a fraying thread pulled too tight. One tug away from snapping.
Her eyes burned. She blinked hard, but tears still gathered.
She eventually sank onto the cold metal railing overlooking the dark river. The water didn't soothe her like it used to. The last time she'd come here for comfort, her reflection had scared her—a face she barely recognized.
"I just… want a moment to breathe," she whispered.
But instead of relief, a strange pressure crawled across the back of her neck.
Like the air itself leaned into her.
She froze, turning.
No wind. But the leaves in the trees shivered violently, out of rhythm—wrong, almost like they were reacting to something she couldn't see.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
A slow, heavy beat. Like a gigantic heart pumping somewhere in the sky.
"What…?" she breathed.
Then the world shattered.
A ripping sound tore the night apart—sharp, jagged, too brutal to be thunder. Mahika snapped her head upward just as the sky split open.
A seam of white-blue light ripped across the darkness, bright enough to sting her eyes. Lightning didn't behave like that. Lightning struck downward.
This tore sideways—peeling the sky apart like fabric forced beyond its limit.
Mahika stumbled back, arm thrown over her eyes.
The air vibrated.
The ground vibrated.
Something deep inside her bones vibrated.
And that tear in the sky grew wider—slowly, horribly.
Her breath hitched. Pressure built in her chest, squeezing until she couldn't pull air in. Wind slammed into her from every direction, though the night had been still seconds ago. Her hair whipped across her face as if gravity itself had tilted sideways.
"Stop—stop—please—!"
But the sky didn't stop.
A violent pull struck her from above.
Her feet left the ground.
Mahika screamed—not because she was rising, but because the world betrayed her. Down wasn't down anymore. Up wasn't up. Gravity had flipped, and her body was dragged into the sky like invisible hooks had sunk into her ribs.
Her legs kicked wildly. Her hands clawed at empty air. Panic scorched her throat until she couldn't breathe.
"No—no—no—!"
The world shrank beneath her—the park, the river, the city—blurring into streaks of color. The tear swallowed her whole.
White swallowed her vision.
Then—
Darkness.
But not empty darkness.
A darkness with voices.
Soft whispers slithered around her—layered, echoing, not human but not entirely foreign.
"Hísath… ven oli… nantara…"
"Rael'ki… traveler… awakened…"
"Who's there?!" she shouted into the void. "Who—what are you?!"
Silence.
Then the whispers rose again, faster, almost frantic.
Her heart hammered. Her mind scrambled to find meaning. Her lungs couldn't decide if they were breathing or drowning.
She fell.
For how long, she didn't know. There was no up or down, no light or shape—only the twisting in her stomach and the roar of wind tearing past her ears.
Then—
Light.
Or something like light.
A glow.
A shape.
The world reformed beneath her.
Mahika hit something soft—grass? leaves?—before rolling violently down a slope. Her shoulder slammed into a root. A sharp jolt of pain lit through her spine.
She groaned, coughing as she pushed herself upright.
And froze.
The world around her glowed.
Her eyes squeezed shut instinctively. When she cracked them open, she saw—
A forest.
But not any forest on Earth.
Bioluminescent plants blanketed the ground in waves of blue-green light, shimmering like stars tangled in moss.
Her heart tripped.
"What… is this?" she whispered.
She turned slowly, chest tight with a mess of awe and fear.
The air didn't smell like soil or rain. It smelled wild. Metallic. Ancient—like a storm trapped inside leaves. The earth beneath her palms hummed faintly, almost like it responded to her touch.
Her hands shook as she sat back on her heels.
Dream?
Hallucination?
Stress episode?
None of those could explain the glowing vines curling up nearby trees or the golden dust floating lazily in the air.
"Not… at home," she said softly.
Saying it out loud made it real.
A chill ran up her spine.
Her hand flew to her pocket—phone dead. No signal. No time. Nothing.
A sharp snap echoed behind her—like a branch breaking.
Mahika spun, breath trapped in her throat.
Something large moved between the trees. The mist parted around it—slow, deliberate.
The plants brightened, reacting to her fear.
"H-Hello…?" Her voice came out thin.
A low sound answered.
Not a word.
Not human.
A growl—deep, hungry, curious.
Her heart slammed against her ribs. She took a shaky step back. The forest leaned in, every glowing vine dimming slightly as if holding its breath.
A massive shadow shifted. Broad shoulders. Predator-like posture.
Mahika couldn't see eyes, but she felt its gaze.
The growl deepened.
Her lungs refused to work. She could taste fear on her tongue, metallic and sharp. The mist swirled violently as the thing crept closer.
Then—
silence.
The shadow retreated, slipping behind the trees as though it had never been there. The glowing plants flickered, the forest exhaled, and the mist settled again.
Mahika's knees nearly buckled. She pressed back against a tree, fingers trembling as they curled over her chest.
"What is happening?" she whispered. Her voice cracked.
The moss by her feet glowed faintly, like it wanted to answer.
She folded forward, forehead on her knees. She needed to calm down. Panicking would kill her faster than whatever roamed this place.
After several ragged breaths, she looked up.
The mist moved again—slow this time. Curious. It curled around her fingers.
A soft light pulsed beneath her skin.
Mahika froze.
On her forearm, under the surface, a symbol glowed—pale, unfamiliar, gently throbbing with light.
She held her breath.
The mark flared once, bright enough to illuminate the bark behind her. Then it dimmed, leaving only a faint afterglow.
"No," she whispered. "No, that wasn't there before."
A cold knot twisted in her stomach.
Traveler… awakened…
A rustle sounded farther off—another creature, maybe. Maybe the same one. Mahika straightened, chest tight.
She wasn't safe. Not here. Not anywhere.
She pushed herself upright, bracing against the glowing tree. Her legs shook, but she forced herself forward.
"I need… shelter," she whispered. "Answers. Something. Anything."
Each step made the glowing plants flicker beneath her. The mist drifted around her like curious spirits. Shadows moved at the edges of her vision. The forest creaked, almost speaking in warnings she didn't understand.
She had no idea that something huge had already caught her scent.
No idea that her arrival stirred old prophecies awake.
No idea that four powerful beasts—wolf, eagle, bear, tiger—would soon be turning toward her, instincts rising like wildfire.
Right now, she only knew one thing:
She didn't belong here.
But the air felt strange. Familiar.
Like the forest had been waiting for her.
Mahika pressed her hand over the faint glow on her skin and whispered:
"Whatever brought me here… I hope it knows what it's doing."
The forest stayed quiet.
The mist brightened.
Above her, the tear in the sky sealed shut—quietly locking her fate into place.