The dream returns—again.
But this time, it’s exactly like the first—when Jack’s lips touched mine for the very first time.
The little girl sits on the edge of a bed far too large for her small frame, her tiny fingers curled tightly around a familiar blue necklace that pulses faintly with light.
But she’s not in an ordinary room this time. It’s a hut. Dimly lit, thick with incense and smoke. Cracked shelves line the walls, crammed with dusty jars and dried herbs. Pots bubble with glowing liquids, and hanging talismans twist eerily in the low light. The air hums with energy—old magic, ancient… dangerous.
And then I hear it—chanting.
A low, rhythmic whisper, in a language I don’t understand but feel in my bones. It’s coming from behind me. From all around me. The girl clutches the neckla
