Amara tossed in bed, her skin slick with sweat. The dream had come again—claws tearing through shadows, a voice whispering her name over and over, calling her witch. Blood everywhere, thick and red, staining her hands. She jolted up with a gasp, clutching her sheets so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her heart was pounding too fast, like it was trying to escape her chest.
She looked around the dark room, trying to remember where she was. Her desk lamp glowed dimly in the corner, her clothes piled on the chair, everything normal but somehow wrong. The air felt strange. Charged.
A shiver ran down her spine.
Something was off.
She got up and walked to the window, her bare feet cold against the floor. When she pulled the curtain slightly, her breath hitched. There—by the trees at the ed
