Lena Maren sat in the middle of her luxurious bedroom, surrounded by polished marble, gold-edged furniture, and the soft rustle of Paris beyond her window. The lights outside blinked in quiet rhythm, echoing a city alive with motion — but in her chest, there was only stillness.
The day's photoshoot was over. The makeup scrubbed away. The fake smiles left behind.
She sat in silence, robe wrapped around her, hair still damp from the shower, the soft ticking of a vintage clock the only sound in the room.
But she couldn't sleep.
Not with the sigil.
The strange, curling symbol glowing faintly on her palm — hidden now beneath a silk wrap, yet still pulsing. Not pain. Not warmth. Something else. Like a heartbeat that wasn't hers.
She ran her thumb over the covered mark, breath shallow.
That night in the woods — she hadn't told anyone. Who could she tell?
A model confessing she saw a horned shadow creature whispering inside her head? That her skin bore a glowing mark that refused to fade?
It would ruin her. And worse — they'd think she was insane.Lena stood and walked toward the open balcony doors, letting the breeze sweep across her skin. The air was oddly cool for summer.
She closed her eyes, pressing a hand to her chest.
Then — it came again.
A voice. Inside her mind.
*"You are drifting… Lena."*
Her eyes flew open. The room spun slightly. The voice was soft, deep — male. Not human.
Not imagined.
*"The veil grows thin. You feel it, don't you?"*
She swallowed hard. "Who are you?" she whispered aloud.
Silence.
Then:
*"You've walked between two skies already. The mark proves it."*
Her heart pounded. She backed away from the balcony, chest tightening.
*"There is a place waiting for you. Beyond this world. The forest remembers. We remember."*
Lena looked down at her wrapped palm, which now glowed faintly through the silk.
"I don't understand…"
*"You will. Soon. But you must choose. The door opens tonight."*
Her voice trembled. "Door? To where?"
*"Home."*
That word — it pierced something in her.
This world, no matter how glamorous, had never truly felt like home. Not the runways. Not the cameras. Not the applause. She'd been playing a role, wrapped in glitter and expectation.
The silence pressed against her. The voice grew fainter, like wind slipping through cracks in the glass.
*"At midnight… if you're ready. Come."*
The air dropped several degrees. The mark on her hand pulsed once — then faded.
Lena stood in silence for a long time.
---
Midnight.
The clock ticked toward it with quiet inevitability. Lena hadn't moved from the edge of her bed. She sat cross-legged, staring at the silk wrap on her hand — the faint glow now steady, pulsing in time with her heartbeat.
She didn't call Cami. Didn't check her schedule. Didn't answer her buzzing phone.
Because none of it mattered. Not tonight.
Her decision had already been made — maybe not with her mind, but with something older inside her. Something that had always known she wasn't meant for red carpets and shallow praise.
She stood.
The apartment was silent. The city, muffled. Even her breathing seemed distant, as if she were already slipping away.
She walked barefoot to her window. The glass was fogged from the inside — strange, considering the warmth of the night. She reached out, and when her fingers touched the glass… it rippled.
Like water.
Her eyes widened.
This was the door.
*The veil.*
It was real.
She pressed her glowing palm to the window — and the world *shattered* into stars.
No sound. No pain. Just falling.Falling through velvet night, through whispers and wind and memories she didn't recognize. Her body dissolved into light, and for one long moment… Lena Maren ceased to exist.
***
She woke on soft moss, beneath a canopy of black trees lit by silver stars. The air smelled of wild earth and forgotten time.
The forest had taken her.
Her breath caught.
She touched her chest — the mark still burned faintly on her palm, but she felt different now. Lighter, like the version of herself in the other world had always been wearing someone else's skin.
A voice echoed through the trees — faint, distant, and utterly clear:
*"Welcome back, marked one."*
And Lena knew…
She had crossed a threshold she could never return from.
---