Aurora stayed seated, with her back still pressed to the same tree. Although, her back ached from the rough bark. Her hands rested limply in her lap, with her fingers streaked with dirt. She wasn't sure how long she'd been sitting there - minutes, perhaps longer. Time didn't pass the same way out here.
Now, her breathing had slowed, but not enough. Her chest still rose and fell too fast. Not exactly panic. Just a tightness that wouldn't let go.
The moon was back, faint and high above the trees. A small comfort, but it didn't reach her.
Nothing did.
She shifted her legs slowly, trying to stretch the stiffness from her knees. The silence crept back in, deeper than before. It wasn't the peaceful kind of silence. It was the kind that waited.
That presence, the one that had talked to her and replicated Kade's voice, had not departed. It was no longer terrifying but she could sense it nearby. Watching. Not pushing her, but not retreating either.
She rubbed her palms together to ground herself. The chill had settled deep in her arms now, even though the air wasn't cold.
She didn't cry.
She'd already done that — the ugly, shaking kind that made her throat raw. What was left now felt quieter and hollow.
She leaned forward slightly and looked around. The forest hadn't changed, not in any obvious way. But it didn't feel like the same place anymore.
Nothing moved. Not a single insect buzzed. Not a leaf rustled.
She pushed herself up to stand, slowly. Her body protested. Her feet stung from roots and rocks she hadn't noticed before. The hem of her dress was torn and clung to her legs. It felt heavier now, like it had absorbed the weight of everything that had happened.
She didn't know where she was going.
She only knew she couldn't stay here.
Aurora took a few steps away from the tree, her eyes wandering between the huge trunks that surrounded her. Every direction looked the same. But something in her belly drove her ahead and to the left. It was not instinct neither was it logical. It was just a feeling.
The ground was softer here. Damp. Moss-covered. Her feet dipped slightly with every stride.
The farther she went, the weirder it felt.
Not because the forest appeared different, but because her body reacted as if it were a new environment. Her heart rate increased again. Her senses were on edge. Her ears were glued in to the silence, almost anticipating a sound.
She didn't realize she had stopped moving until she noticed her breath again. It came out in small bursts.
That's when she saw it.
Just ahead, through the thickest part of the trees, there was a faint glow. Not bright. Barely visible. But there.
Red.
It pulsed once.
A memory resurfaced—the same brightness she'd seen before the jungle sent her into that odd state. The murmur in the air. The voice inside her head.
It wasn't a dream.
She took one step closer. She was cautious but unable to stop herself.
Another pulse.
The glow wasn't just light. It had a shape now. It had depth. It looked like a rupture in space, put between two trees that bent uncomfortably close to each other.
Aurora's fingers curled at her sides. She didn't move again. Just stared.
The air shifted and got slightly warmer. The kind of heat that settled over your skin, not from temperature, but from attention.
She swallowed hard.
Whatever it was, it wanted her.
Though she wasn't ready. At least not yet.
She turned her back to it.
The light did not fade away. It pulsed behind her, and she could feel it.
She walked away slowly, every part of her tense. Her hands shook again, though she wasn't afraid. Not exactly.
Aurora didn't walk far.
Her legs barely carried her out of the glow's reach. She stopped again once the trees thickened, her back brushing against a branch that cracked under her weight.
She felt exposed again, but not like during the ceremony. This time, it wasn't people watching — it was something she couldn't see. And it was not simply looking; it recognized her.
Something had touched her. She had felt it in the clearing.
She wrapped her arms tighter around herself.
What had she seen? Those flashes—the heat, the voice, the bite at her throat had seemed too real to be imagined. Too physical. Her wolf had not run from it either. That was what terrified her the most.
Her wolf was not meant to prefer darkness.
She took a shaky breath and crouched low, bracing a hand against the ground to steady herself.
The moss was cool, wet, and real so she clung to that.
But then came a crack in the silence.
She shot up, head turning fast toward the sound.
Nothing moved.
But the feeling returned, heavy in the chest and beneath the ribs. Her wolf raised its head within her, ears perked. Not afraid. Curious.
Another sound—this time, a slight crunch. Leaves footsteps, perhaps.
Her heart stuttered.
She took a hesitant step back, her heel landing on a root, forcing her balance forward again. She held herself before she fell.
"Who's there?" she asked gently, her voice hoarse from disuse.
No response.
She waited.
Her pulse slowed somewhat. Probably she was imagining things.
Then a warm breath slid across her neck.
Aurora whirled rapidly, fists up, but there was nothing behind her.
Nonetheless, the air had shifted. She knew it.
She backed up till her shoulders hit a nearby tree. Her eyes scanned the shadows in every direction.
"You're not real," she whispered.
But she didn't believe it.
"You called me."
The voice wasn't loud. It didn't echo. But it landed heavy in her stomach.
"I didn't," she whispered. "I didn't call anyone."
"Not with your voice."
Her chest tightened.
This wasn't like before. The first voice — the one that mimicked Kade — had been close, but this was inside.
"I don't want this."
No reply.
"I didn't ask for any of it."
Still nothing.
Then one sound hung around. It felt as if something was purring from deep underground.
She turned and stumbled away from the tree.
Whatever this was, it didn't care what she wanted.
Aurora continued to move, albeit slowly now. She had no idea where she was going, except that staying still made her feel like a prey.
Her feet stung, scratched raw from the forest floor. Her body ached in places she had not realized before. It was beginning to catch up with her. The rejection, the shift, the silence, and the voice.
She wiped her face with the back of her hand, smearing dirt across her cheek. Her fingers were cold, stiff. Her wolf was still silent, but not gone—just curled inside, waiting.
The trees surrounding her began to change again and she realized it gradually.
The bark appeared darker. The trunks were close together. Their branches extended overhead. The brightness faded until she could hardly see her own hands.
Then it started again—that low hum.
It didn't sound like a noise. It was more like pressure, under everything. Her skin tingled. Her heart beat harder.
She looked down at her arms. Goosebumps. Her breathing quickened.
Another step.
And then the world tilted.
Not violently. Just enough to make her stumble. She caught herself on a tree trunk, but the bark pulsed even warmer against her palm.
She yanked her hand back.
The hum deepened.
She turned in a slow circle. There was no glow this time. No portal. Just the trees and the dark and the feeling that something had just noticed her again.
And it wanted something.
She backed up slowly, one step at a time.
The air thickened. The scent shifted to something earthy and harsh, almost like metal.
Then, something brushed the back of her neck.
It was light. Barely there. But real enough to make her stop breathing.
She reached back and felt nothing. No hand nor fabric.
Just skin.
She didn't imagine it. Something had touched her.
She stood frozen for a long moment, listening. The forest said nothing.
But her skin still tingled.
A faint warmth spread outward from the back of her neck, down her spine. Not painful. Not gentle. It was as if a fingerprint had burnt into her nerves.
She turned and stumbled away, faster this time.
Whatever had touched her hadn't followed, but it didn't have to. She could feel it from a distance.
She didn't stop moving until she reached another clearing.
No whispers. No glow. Only wide space and darkness.
She fell to her knees with her chest rising and falling in rapid bursts
The tension had ebbed, but only slightly. It was never really gone.
Her hand went to the back of her neck again.
Still nothing there.
But the warmth hadn't faded.
She knew something had left a mark on her. Not on the outside. Somewhere deeper.