[Ovelia's POV]
I opened my eyes. But I wasn't in the wagon. I was standing in a familiar forest. The trees stood silent, their leaves motionless, as if the world itself held its breath. No birdsong. No rustle of wind. Just stillness—heavy and suffocating. I turned slowly, dread coiling in my stomach like a living thing, and saw it.
The burning village.
Flames licked at thatched roofs, consuming everything with hungry crackles. Orange light danced across the tree trunks, painting everything in shades of death. Smoke billowed into the night sky, black and thick, blotting out the stars. The Blazing Tribe village. I remembered the masked men—the ones who killed without mercy, without hesitation, as if slaughter were entertainment. The same nightmare that had haunted me before. The same horror I couldn't escape.
I ran. My feet pounded against the earth, carrying me toward the village.
"Ovelia."
Two voices. Familiar. Gentle. Speaking my name at the same time, in perfect harmony.
