Sorrel stood very still, her breath fogging in the cold air as she tried to understand what had just happened.
The forest around her glowed faintly, as if moonlight had seeped into the leaves themselves. The trunks of the trees were impossibly tall—ancient pillars rising into a canopy so dense she couldn't see the sky. The air smelled of moss and something sweet, like crushed petals and rain.
It didn't feel like any forest she'd ever stepped into.
It felt… aware.
Sorrel wrapped her arms around herself, trying to steady her breathing. Her heart was still racing from the run, from Evan's voice shouting behind her, from the way the boundary had opened like a living thing responding to her fear.
She turned slowly, expecting to see the shimmer of the world she'd left behind.
There was nothing.
Just trees. Endless, silent trees.
"No, no, no…" Her voice cracked. "Where's the way out?"
She took a step backward, then another, searching for the exact spot she'd crossed. The ground looked the same everywhere—soft moss, scattered leaves, faintly glowing roots. No path. No break in the treeline. No sign of the overlook or the car or the world she knew.
Her throat tightened.
"Okay," she whispered, trying to keep her voice steady. "Don't panic. You just… need to think."
But thinking was hard when the forest felt like it was listening.
A soft hum vibrated through the air, subtle but constant, like a distant chord resonating through the trees. It wasn't sound exactly. More like pressure. A presence.
Sorrel pressed a hand to her chest. The faint glow she'd felt earlier pulsed again beneath her skin—gentle, rhythmic, like a second heartbeat.
"What are you?" she whispered.
The forest didn't answer.
But something shifted.
A breeze drifted through the clearing, though the leaves didn't move. The air brushed against her cheek like a curious touch. Sorrel shivered and took a step back.
"Is someone there?"
Silence.
Then— A soft crack of a branch somewhere deeper in the woods.
Sorrel froze.
Her mind raced through every horror story she'd ever heard about the Veilwood. People disappearing. Hunters vanishing without a trace. Strange lights. Voices that weren't human. Creatures that didn't belong to any world she knew.
She swallowed hard.
"Hello?" she tried again, though she wasn't sure she wanted an answer.
Another sound followed—a low, resonant rumble, like distant thunder rolling through the trees. The ground beneath her feet trembled, just slightly, as if something massive had shifted far away.
Sorrel's pulse spiked.
She backed up until her shoulders brushed the rough bark of a tree. The trunk was warm. Too warm. Like it had a pulse of its own.
"Okay," she whispered, voice shaking. "Okay, you need to move. Standing still is how people die in horror movies."
She pushed off the tree and forced her legs to move. One step. Then another. The forest floor was soft, muffling her footsteps. The faint glow from the leaves cast enough light to see a few feet ahead, but beyond that, everything dissolved into shadow.
She didn't know where she was going. She just knew she couldn't stay where she'd entered.
The forest hummed again, louder this time, as if reacting to her decision.
"Are you… guiding me?" she asked softly.
A breeze stirred, brushing her hair forward.
She took that as a yes.
Sorrel followed the faint current of air, weaving between massive roots and glowing ferns. The deeper she went, the more the forest changed. The trees grew even taller, their bark etched with swirling patterns that looked almost like writing. Strange flowers bloomed in clusters, their petals shimmering with iridescent light. The air grew cooler, but not unpleasant—like stepping into a cathedral carved from living wood.
Despite her fear, awe crept in.
"This place is impossible," she whispered.
The glow beneath her skin pulsed again, stronger this time, and the forest answered with a soft ripple of light through the leaves overhead.
She stopped.
"Why are you reacting to me?"
The forest didn't speak, but the hum deepened, vibrating through her bones.
Sorrel pressed a hand to her sternum. The warmth there was undeniable now—gentle, steady, alive.
She didn't know what it meant. She didn't know why the forest had opened for her. She didn't know why her body felt like it was resonating with something ancient.
But she knew one thing:
She wasn't supposed to be here.
A sudden rustle snapped her attention to the left.
Something moved between the trees—fast, silent, too large to be a deer. Sorrel's breath caught. She stumbled backward, her foot catching on a root. She hit the ground hard, moss cushioning her fall.
The shadows shifted.
A shape emerged.
Tall. Broad‑shouldered. Not human. Not entirely.
Sorrel's breath hitched.
The figure stepped into the faint glow of the leaves, and she saw—
Eyes. Silver. Glowing. Watching her with an intensity that rooted her to the ground.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
The forest hummed again—louder, sharper, like a warning or a welcome, she couldn't tell.
The figure took one slow step toward her.
Sorrel scrambled backward, palms slipping on the moss.
"Stay back," she whispered, though her voice barely carried.
The figure paused.
The silver eyes narrowed—not in anger, but in recognition.
As if he knew her.
As if he had been waiting.
Sorrel's pulse thundered in her ears. The glow beneath her skin flared, bright enough that she saw it through her shirt.
The figure inhaled sharply.
And then, in a voice low and rough and impossibly familiar, he said:
"Sovereign."
Sorrel froze.
Her breath caught.
Her world tilted.
And the forest, ancient and alive, seemed to bow around her.