The dream found Daisy somewhere between midnight and apocalypse o'clock, slipping through cracks in reality that her mind really should have known better than to examine too closely. Twilight prowled through her consciousness like an especially anxious supernatural streaming service, broadcasting visions of what was coming with the kind of dramatic timing usually reserved for season finales.
They're coming, the ancient spirit whispered, its voice carrying frequencies that made Daisy's dream-bones vibrate. The lost ones. The hunted ones. The ones whose own kind have turned against them.
"Could you maybe be more specific?" Daisy watched as shadows twisted into shapes that shouldn't exist, forming silhouettes of figures running from things her mind refused to process. "Or is this one of tho
