Ink Between Worlds

Chapter 3

Tiana

By the time I reach home, the last of the sunlight has surrendered to dusk. Shadows pool beneath the trees like ink spilling across the earth, and every sound feels louder than usual, the snap of a twig, the rustle of wind-blown leaves, even the beating of my heart.

I close the door behind me and lean against it, my breath catching in my throat. I’m not cold, but I’m shaking. My hands still feel the imprint of Bradley’s handkerchief. His voice echoes in my mind like a melody I can’t forget.

“My name is Bradley.”

I slide down to the floor, hugging my knees to my chest.

He’s real.

No! He can’t be.

He can’t.

But I saw him, I touched him, I spoke to him.

I should tell someone. But who? Mama and Papa wouldn’t understand. They’d worry I’m losing it. And even if I told them, what would I say?

“Hey, Mama. The fictional man I made up in my notebook is real now. He appeared in the forest and knows my name.”

Yeah. That would go over well.

Instead, I get up, go to the sink, and splash cold water on my face. I catch my reflection in the cracked mirror above it. My cheeks are pale, eyes wide, hair frizzed from the wind. I look like I’ve seen a ghost.

Except I haven’t.

I’ve seen Bradley.

I go to my room and close the door behind me. My notebook is still in my bag. I take it out slowly, like it might bite. My fingers tremble as I flip through the pages, each one filled with careful words and longing thoughts. Everything I’ve written about Bradley is here.

And now he’s out there.

I should stop writing. That would be the smart thing to do. But my hands betray me. The pen feels too natural between my fingers.

He steps through the veil between worlds, drawn not by fate, but by her loneliness. He doesn’t understand everything, not yet, but he knows her. Deeply. In ways even she doesn’t understand herself.

I pause, the words staring back at me like truth carved in stone.

I slam the notebook shut.

Not tonight. I need sleep. I need this to be a dream.

***

My dreams are not peaceful.

Flashes of trees. His voice calling my name. Shadows slipping through my stories like they’ve been waiting for me to notice them. A wolf howling in the distance, and in the dark, his eye, those piercing, endless eyes, watching me like he knows what I’ll write next.

I wake up drenched in sweat.

The candle on my desk is still half-burned from yesterday. I reach for the curtain and peek outside.

No sign of him.

No footprints. No figure beneath the trees.

Still, I dress quickly. My usual black sweater and jeans feel more like armor today than clothes.

On my way out, Mama calls from the kitchen. "Don’t forget your lunch, Tia. It’s not much, but it’ll hold you."

"Thanks, Mama." I grab the wrapped sandwich from the counter, offering a small smile. I want to say more, but I can’t. My thoughts are too heavy to share.

The forest feels different this morning. Not threatening, but... alert. Like it’s waiting.

I walk faster, heart pounding. Every crunch of twigs beneath my boots makes me flinch.

Then I hear it.

A soft whistle, faint, familiar.

I freeze.

"You’re walking faster today," a voice says casually from behind a tree.

I turn sharply.

Bradley steps out of the shadows, his hands in his coat pockets, expression unreadable.

"You..." My throat dries. "You’re still here."

"I said I wasn’t going anywhere," he says.

I narrow my eyes. "What do you want from me?"

"Nothing you’re not willing to give."

That doesn’t help.

I cross my arms. "You can’t just appear like this. You’re... you’re fiction. I made you. You belong on paper, not in the woods behind my house."

His eyes soften. "And yet, here I am. You brought me here. Something in you made me real."

I shake my head. "No. This is magic. Some cruel trick. I’m a wolf, yes, but I’m not powerful. I’m not even fully..."

"A witch?" he finishes for me.

I go completely still.

"You know."

He nods. "Only what I feel. What I was written to know. You’re more than you let yourself be, Tiana. More than what they’ve told you."

My voice lowers. "Don’t talk like you know me."

He steps closer, but still keeps a respectful distance. "I do know you. I was written to love you. That doesn’t mean I expect it. But it’s there, in every beat of who I am."

I can’t breathe.

Because part of me wants to believe him. Part of me already does.

"I have a class," I whisper, stepping past him. "Don’t follow me."

He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t beg. Just watches.

And somehow, that’s worse.

When I reach campus, Celeste is already there, leaning against the entrance wall like she owns the place. Her lips curl the second she sees me.

"Hey, forest rat. You look like you crawled out of a nightmare. Oh wait, was that your reality?" she laughs.

I ignore her. My head is already full of real nightmares.

But just as I’m about to pass, she steps in front of me.

"What’s this?" she sneers, tugging at the strap of my bag. "Still writing those pathetic love stories, huh? Got a new invisible boyfriend? Maybe he’ll finally kiss you in your dreams."

I snatch my bag away, fire burning in my chest. "Leave me alone, Celeste."

"Or what? You’ll write me out of existence?"

My hand clenches into a fist. I don’t punch her. But I want to.

And suddenly, I feel it again.

The air shifts.

Celeste freezes. Her body stiffens like she’s caught the scent of something dangerous. She glances over her shoulder, pale and trembling.

"Who... who’s that?" she whispers.

I turn.

Bradley stands a few feet away, expression blank, but his eyes burn. He doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t need to.

Celeste stumbles back. "Whatever, freaks. Both of you." She rushes off.

I exhale shakily.

Bradley gives me a look I can’t decipher. I shake my head. "You can’t come here. This isn’t your world." I say firmly.

He smiles faintly. "Then why does it feel like home?" He replies, and I have no answer.