MEADOW’S POV.
The dream hit me like a fall into ice water.
I was standing in a forest, but it didn’t feel like any forest I had ever seen before. The trees were too still, as if even the air was afraid to move between them. There was no wind, no birds, no sound at all, only a heavy silence that pressed against my skin like something alive.
Then I heard it.
Chains.
Slow. Heavy. Dragging across the ground.
I turned, and that was when I saw them.
Women.
Dozens of them walking in a slow, broken line through the forest. Their bodies were dressed in torn white clothing that looked like it had once been ceremonial, but now it hung off them like scraps. Thick iron chains bound their wrists and ankles, forcing them to move together in painful rhythm.
Their heads were covered with rough sac
