EMMALINE
Darkness spills out from the other side—thick, living darkness that swallows the light whole.
My heart stutters, every instinct screaming at me to pull back, to run. But I force myself forward. I step through.
The world tilts violently. The floor vanishes beneath my feet. I’m falling, spinning, drowning in shadows until suddenly—
I’m standing in a small room.
It takes me a moment to understand what I’m seeing. The walls are pale blue, faded and soft like they’ve been touched by too many years.
Toys are scattered across the wooden floor—blocks, marbles, a small stuffed wolf with one button eye missing. Sunlight filters weakly through lace curtains, casting everything in a hazy, dreamlike glow.
A nursery.
And then I hear it. The soft, uneven sounds of children at play.
M
