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It was an expression belonging to someone who had seen too much, someone who carried troubles far more difficult than an eight-year-old ever should.
“Don't bother about that,” he said, his voice dropping to a quiet, firm tone that allowed no argument. He reached out, his small hand briefly touching mine, keeping our connection close. “Just promise me you'll always keep this with you, Kaima.”
He spoke my name with a force that made my chest ache. He was not asking for a simple childhood promise, the kind made over shared toys or playground games. He was asking for something permanent.
I looked at him, my young mind struggling to understand the depth in his eyes.
I was just a child myself, completely unequipped to understand why a silver necklace with a howling wolf required such a serious oath. Yet, looking at his serious face, I knew that whatever this was, it mattered more than anything else in that moment.
“Kaima??
His voice came again, cutting right through the thick fog of my thoughts and pulling me back to the present moment. He was still looking at me, his eyes searching mine, waiting for an answer to a question that felt far too big for the two of us.
“Sure, Killian,” I said, trying to shake off the strange, heavy feeling that had settled over us. I forced a tiny laugh, though it felt tight and nervous in my throat, an attempt to lighten the mood. “I'll never lose this, I promise. Not before I lose my life.”
I had meant it as a bit of a joke, a dramatic childhood vow to ease the tension, but he did not laugh. His face did not light up. Instead, he just gave me a faint, quiet smile. It was the kind of look someone gives when they are trying to hide what they are really feeling, a mask put on to keep the true depth of their emotions completely out of sight. It made my chest twist a little, seeing an expression like that on a boy his age, but before I could say anything else, the moment shifted.
He stood up after a short while, shaking the loose grass from his clothes. He stretched out his small hand toward me, offering me a way up.
“C'mon, let's head back to the pack before they start looking for us,” he said.
I smiled, knowing he was completely right. If we stayed out here much longer, someone would definitely notice we were missing, and we would both be in trouble. I reached up to take his hand, intending to pull myself off the ground, but before my fingers could even touch his, something went wrong.
The scene began to change. The edges of the garden started to blur, the colors melting away into nothing. A sudden panic hit me, and I struggled against it, trying with everything I had to hold on to the moment, to stay right there on the grass, to stay with him. I reached out, desperately wanting to keep his hand in mine, but he was slipping away, fading into a thick, unstoppable darkness.
I woke up with a sudden jerk, my heart pounding hard against my ribs. My eyes flew open, but I shut them almost instantly, completely regretting the decision. A blinding, aggressive light flooded my vision, causing a sharp ache behind my forehead. I lay perfectly still for a second, catching my breath, before slowly trying to open them again, letting my eyes adjust to the surroundings.
I was back in my bedroom.
The familiar walls offered no comfort. I was laying flat in my own bed, but things were completely wrong. There was a thin tube running down toward me, connecting a clear drip directly into my wrist. The coldness of the fluid fluid felt strange against my skin. I looked around the space, but the room was completely empty. There was absolutely no one inside except me. The silence was heavy, broken only by the sound of my own breathing.
My mind went straight back to what had just happened. Was that a dream? What the hell was that?
I lay there, staring at the ceiling, my thoughts racing in circles. It didn't feel like a normal dream, the kind that breaks apart and vanishes the moment you wake up. Why did it feel exactly like a memory? Everything about it had been so real, so completely familiar. The boy's face, the deep tone of his voice, and the necklace.
Yes, that necklace. I knew it.
A sudden realization struck me, making my breath catch in my throat. Without thinking, I brought my free hand up to my neck, my fingers searching the bare skin to check for the metal chain. But it was completely empty. There was nothing there. I paused, a wave of confusion washing over me, before a memory cleared the fog. Of course. I had removed it myself.
But I owned that exact necklace. I knew I did. I had that very piece of jewelry, with the half moon and the wolf, tucked away somewhere in this house.
A sudden burst of energy took over, a desperate need to prove to myself that I wasn't losing my mind. I tried to push my body up, wanting to get out of bed and go look through my jewels, to find the box where I kept my things and hold the silver wolf in my hand. But the moment I tried to move, my body refused to cooperate.
A deep, heavy exhaustion held me down, and I realized I couldn't get up just yet. My limbs felt like lead, completely unresponsive to my mind's frantic commands.
I dropped back against the pillows, breathing heavily, frustration bubbling up inside me. I was trapped in my own skin, staring at the door, desperate for answers.
Just then, the handle turned. The door clicked open, and a doctor walked into the quiet room.
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