Lena didn't remember how she got back to the manor.
One minute she was facing that impossible creature in the forest — the next, she was in her bed, her silk sheets tangled, her chest heaving like she'd run a marathon. But it wasn't a dream. She could still feel the cold air, still hear the way it had whispered her name inside her mind.
And her palm — it burned.
She sat up, turning on the lamp, and slowly peeled back the sleeve of her robe. In the center of her left palm was a faint, glowing symbol — delicate lines curling in a perfect circle, like vines forming a sigil.
It pulsed faintly, as if alive.
Lena's breath caught.
"What the hell…"
She touched it, and a shock raced up her arm — not pain, but power. Foreign. Wild. Hungry.
Her head spun. The woods. The eyes. *You don't belong here… yet you were brought.*
She whispered into the quiet, "What am I becoming?"
Before she could think further, her bedroom window creaked.
Wind slipped through — but not just wind.
A voice.
*"You've been seen now."*
She turned sharply — no one there.
But deep in her bones, something had shifted.
The world around her had changed.
And so had she
Forever.
---
Flashbulbs popped. Cameras clicked in rapid fire. Lena stood center stage, dressed in silk and diamonds, the lights of the Paris runway glaring down on her.
But all she could hear… was the whisper.
*"You've been seen now…"*
She blinked, trying to focus. Walk. Pose. Turn. Smile. She'd done it a thousand times. But her steps felt unsteady. Her heartbeat thundered too loud in her ears.
Someone called her name. Her manager, furiously gesturing from the sidelines. She realized she'd paused mid-runway — eyes locked on something at the end of the catwalk. A shape. A flicker of shadow. It vanished the moment she blinked.
Backstage, chaos swirled. Stylists buzzed. Models changed. Lena stood motionless as her assistant, Mara, waved a clipboard in her face.
"You zoned out *again*, Lena! That's the third time this week. What's going on with you?"
Lena opened her mouth, then shut it.
How could she explain the sigil on her palm she now kept bandaged? The dreams that weren't dreams? The way reflections shifted when she passed mirrors?
"Just tired," she mumbled.
Mara narrowed her eyes. "This isn't just jet lag. You're… off."
Lena turned away. "I'm fine."
But she wasn't. Not even close.
She no longer belonged here — in this glittering world of applause and vanity.
Her body walked the runway.
But her soul was somewhere else entirely…
Pulled toward shadows, whispers… and him.
The being in the forest.
---