But this time—it pushes further. I’m pulled deeper.
I spin toward the trees. I’ve never looked before. I’ve never made it this far.
There. A figure half-hidden in the mist, watching.
Green eyes. Bright. Piercing. Familiar.
Camille.
I wake with a gasp, hands shaking. Emma grabs my wrist, steady.
“Hope?”
I nod, heart pounding. “I saw him. In the trees. Watching everything fall. Green eyes. It was Camille.”
Emma lets out a slow breath. “Guess that answers our question then. This is a warning.”
“I think so,” I say. “It was raining. Everyone died. And he… he watched it happen like it was nothing.”
Emma sits back on her heels. “I want to say great job at connecting to your gift but under the circumstances I think I'll save my praise until I figure out what to do next. So what do you th
