Avra took a deep breath, her gaze fixed on the shifting shadows between the trees. The whispers called to her, faint and broken, like a melody half-remembered. Her pulse quickened, not from fear but from the undeniable pull of curiosity. She had always been this way—drawn to the unknown, compelled to act even when it went against common sense.

Devereux’s warning echoed in her mind, but she pushed it aside. He might have been trapped here, resigned to this nightmare, but she wasn’t. She could still make a difference. She could help.

“Avra,” Devereux’s voice cut through the air like a blade, low and full of warning. “Don’t be foolish. You can’t save them.”

She turned to him, her jaw set. “Maybe not. But I can try. That’s more than you’ve done.”

His expression darkened, but he didn’t stop her as she took a step toward the trees. The whispers grew sharper, more urgent, as if they knew she was coming.

“Help us…”

“Find the door…”

“Don’t leave us in the dark…”

Avra’s stomach twisted as the voices overlapped, their desperation slicing through her resolve. But she kept moving, her feet crunching on the brittle grass until she crossed the invisible threshold into the woods.

The air changed the moment she stepped beneath the canopy. It was colder here, the kind of cold that seeped into her bones and made her feel weightless, untethered. The trees were impossibly tall, their twisted branches forming a web overhead that blocked out the sky.

She glanced back, half-expecting to see Devereux watching her, but he was gone. The clearing where they had stood was no longer visible—only shadows and more trees.

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“Great,” she muttered to herself, turning back to the path ahead.

The whispers were clearer now, their voices sharp and distinct, though they still spoke in fragments.

“This way…”

“Keep going…”

“Almost there…”

Avra moved cautiously, her eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of movement. The ground beneath her feet felt soft and unstable, like walking on a bed of ash. The deeper she went, the more the trees seemed to close in around her, their gnarled branches reaching for her like desperate hands.

She stopped abruptly when she saw something glinting in the distance. It was faint, a small, flickering light, but it stood out starkly against the oppressive darkness.

“Is that you?” she called out, her voice trembling slightly.

The whispers didn’t respond directly, but their tone seemed to shift, becoming more insistent.

“Yes… this way…”

“Closer…”

“Hurry…”

Avra hesitated, her instincts screaming at her to turn back. But the pull was too strong. She had come this far—there was no point in stopping now.

She moved toward the light, her footsteps echoing unnaturally in the stillness. As she drew closer, the light grew brighter, revealing what lay ahead.

It was a door.

At least, it looked like one. It was tall and narrow, carved from dark wood that seemed to shimmer faintly in the flickering light. Strange symbols were etched into its surface, their lines twisting and shifting as though they were alive.

The whispers grew frantic now, overlapping in a cacophony that made her head spin.

“Open it…”

“Let us out…”

“It’s the only way…”

Avra reached out, her fingers hovering over the strange, shifting symbols. The wood felt warm beneath her touch, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat.

“Avra, stop!”

Devereux’s voice rang out behind her, sharp and full of panic. She turned to see him standing at the edge of the trees, his face pale and drawn.

“Don’t open it,” he said, his voice low and trembling. “You don’t know what’s on the other side.”

Avra hesitated, her hand still resting on the door. “They need help,” she said, her voice steady despite the fear gnawing at her chest.

Devereux took a step closer, his eyes burning with urgency. “They’re not what you think they are. Wonderland is feeding on them, twisting them. If you open that door, you’ll set it free.”

“What’s ‘it’?” Avra demanded, her gaze darting between him and the door.

Devereux didn’t answer. His silence was more chilling than any words could have been.

The whispers grew louder, drowning out her thoughts.

“Open it…”

“Don’t listen to him…”

“We’re waiting…”

Avra looked back at the door, her hand trembling. She knew she should listen to Devereux, but the whispers were so compelling, so full of raw, aching need.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and made her choice.