Shirley
The dream came like a sickness.
I was standing in a forest of ash trees, their trunks twisted, leaves black as soot. The air clung to my skin like smoke. I couldn’t see the sky, couldn’t hear the wind. Just silence—thick, suffocating silence.
And then I heard him.
“Daughter.”
Elias’s voice slid through the trees, deep and venomous, each word curling into my bones like a snake. I spun around, heart thundering, but there was only shadow. My legs wouldn’t move. Roots snaked up around my ankles, holding me in place.
“Do you feel it?” His whisper was everywhere, inside my ear, inside my chest. “The pull of destiny. The blood that sings in your veins. You can’t run from what you are.”
“I’m not you,” I choked, but the words trembled, weak against the darkness.
He laughed, low and
