Taryn
The wind howled.
It wasn’t a natural sound. It clawed at the trees, ripped through branches like teeth dragging across bone. The world was grey. Dim. Warped by fog and shadow. I didn’t remember falling asleep, but suddenly, I was here—barefoot on cold, cracked earth, the sky above me bruised and shifting.
I turned slowly, heart pounding.
She was there again.
Juliet stood a few feet away, her pale dress billowing like smoke, hair tangled in the wind, her eyes darker than I remembered—haunted, hollow.
“Juliet?” My voice echoed strangely in the stillness. “What is this?”
She didn’t move. Didn’t smile. This was not the serene version of her I’d met before—this Juliet was sharper, colder, like time had stripped her of softness.
“You think choosing love is the end of the war,” she
