Footsteps pounded against damp soil.
Branches whipped against bare arms.
A child ran through the woods.
The forest was wrong—too dark, too silent, as if it were holding its breath. Moonlight barely slipped through the thick canopy above, turning the world into moving shadows. Every sound felt amplified: snapping twigs, ragged breathing, a heartbeat thundering inside a small chest.
The boy stumbled but didn't fall.
Tears blurred his vision.
He didn't dare look back.
Something was behind him.
He could feel it—close enough that the air itself felt heavier.
Run.
The voice echoed inside his head, sharp and desperate.
Run, Twilight.
His lungs burned. His legs screamed.
"Mom!" he cried, voice cracking as fear swallowed him whole.
A hand—cold, unnatural—brushed his shoulder.
Something grabbed him.
—
"Mom!"
Twilight jolted upright.
His hands clawed at the air, fingers shaking as if trying to grab someone who wasn't there. His chest heaved violently, breath tearing in and out of him. His eyes were wide, flooded with tears, unfocused and panicked.
The sterile white ceiling above him made no sense.
The smell—medicine, chemicals—burned his nose.
"Mom—" his voice broke again, hoarse, raw.
Where was he?
Why was he—
Hospital.
The realization hit him hard.
His body was weak, heavy, like it didn't belong to him. Tubes were attached to his arm, machines humming softly beside the bed. For a second, confusion pinned him in place.
Then fear took over.
He ripped the IV out with a sharp gasp.
Pain flared, but he barely noticed.
"I need to go," he whispered, then louder, frantic, "I need to get out of here!"
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood too fast.
The room spun.
He staggered.
A nurse rushed in just in time to grab his arm. "Sir, you can't—!"
"Don't touch me!" Twilight shouted.
His voice echoed down the corridor—loud, cracked, desperate.
Doctors poured in, trying to restrain him, calm him down. Hands reached for his shoulders, his wrists.
The panic exploded.
"Let me go!" he screamed.
Down the hallway, three familiar figures froze.
Lily's heart jumped into her throat.
"That's him," she said breathlessly. "That's Twilight."
They ran.
But the guards were already there, stepping in front of the ICU door like iron walls.
"Move!" Henry shouted.
Inside the room, Twilight struggled violently, his voice tearing through the air.
"Guys!!"
That was it.
Lily didn't think.
She moved.
Her fist connected with the guard's jaw in a clean, brutal punch. He staggered back, stunned. Chris reacted instantly, kicking his knee hard enough to send him crashing to the floor.
Henry didn't hesitate—he drove his fist into the second guard's ribs, then slammed him down with a sharp kick.
The path cleared.
They burst into the room.
Twilight broke free from the doctors and ran straight toward them.
"What's happening?" Henry demanded, stepping in front of him instinctively, shielding him.
Twilight's eyes were wild, glowing with fear and urgency.
"I'll explain later," he said quickly, voice shaking. "Right now—we need to get out of here."
The guards and doctors regrouped, slowly advancing again.
Henry didn't argue.
"Window," he commanded.
He scooped Twilight up without thinking, adrenaline lending him strength. Lily and Chris sprinted alongside him as they raced toward the large window at the far end.
"For real?!" Lily yelled.
"No time!" Twilight shouted.
Henry smashed through the glass.
"Whoa—!"
The world flipped.
Air rushed past them as they fell—
And landed hard into something soft.
Cushions.
A truck full of padded cargo.
Pain shot through their bodies, but they were alive.
The driver shouted in shock, but Twilight didn't wait.
"Go!" he yelled.
The engine roared to life.
They saw the guards scrambling, shouting orders, one of them jumping into a car.
"Yes!" Twilight laughed breathlessly, adrenaline surging.
Henry set him down and turned, eyes narrowed. "You better start explaining."
Before Twilight could speak—
A gunshot cracked the air.
The truck lurched violently.
The tire burst.
"Damn it!" the driver swore as he slammed the brakes.
The guards' car skidded to a stop nearby.
No choice.
"Run!" Twilight shouted.
They jumped out and sprinted toward the trees.
The woods swallowed them.
Branches tore at their clothes as they ran, lungs burning, feet slipping over roots and mud.
"What the hell is going on?!" Henry shouted between breaths.
"My fault," Twilight said, guilt bleeding into his voice. "I dragged you into my mess."
Chris grabbed his hand tightly as they ran. "You're not allowed to say that."
Lily nodded fiercely. "You're part of our lives. That means your problems are ours."
Henry grabbed Lily's hand, pulling her forward. "Now shut up and move faster."
Gunshots rang out behind them.
Bullets whizzed past, embedding into tree trunks with sharp cracks.
They ran until their legs felt like they would give out.
Finally, they ducked behind thick trees, splitting into pairs—Twilight with Chris, Lily with Henry.
The forest grew darker.
The guards' footsteps crunched closer, voices low and alert.
Everyone held their breath.
Then—
Crack.
Henry's foot snapped a dry stick.
His heart dropped.
"Shit," he whispered.
The guards froze.
Flashlights swept the darkness.
Something groaned.
Low. Deep.
Not human.
The guards stiffened.
"What was that?" one muttered.
A strange glow appeared between the trees.
Not harsh like a flashlight.
Soft. Floating.
Pale violet, shifting like mist wrapped around light.
It drifted closer.
The air felt heavy.
Twilight's breath caught.
His head throbbed, memories clawing at the edges of his mind—woods, running, fear, blood.
The glow pulsed.
The guards backed away slowly.
"What the hell…" one whispered.
The light moved faster.
Closer.
Then—
The forest answered with a sound that wasn't meant for human ears.
And Twilight knew.
Whatever had been chasing him in his dreams—
Had finally found him awake.