The cliffs felt sharper tonight. Not just the rocks beneath my boots, but the way they hung over the ocean, the way they seemed ready to snap off and drag me with them. The air smelled bitter, metallic, like a storm was coming, though the sky was bare.

I walked fast, my fists tight at my sides, my breath sharp and uneven. My mind wouldn’t shut up.

Dog?

Who the hell did she think she was? Sitting in her filthy little hovel, muttering her half-truths like she was above it all. Like she wasn’t just another ghost the elders shoved out of sight so they wouldn’t have to see what they broke.

I wasn’t barking. She didn’t know what it was like to try—to keep trying—when no one listened, when everyone looked at you like you were nothing. She had no right to judge me.

But her voice stuck to me, her words burrowed under my skin. “Barking at shadows.”

I ground my teeth, hot anger pooling in my throat. What did she know? Nothing. She didn’t know what I was fighting for. She didn’t know what it felt like to—

The world dropped dead.

No wind. No sound. Just a silence so complete it felt alive, wrapping itself around my throat, squeezing until my ears rang. The weight of it crushed the air from my chest, my lungs folding as though the stillness itself was swallowing me.

I froze mid-step, the cold biting deep into my boots, climbing up my legs like ice. My breath hitched, sharp, shallow, useless against the suffocating heaviness pressing in. The ground beneath me twisted, warped, the cliffs stretching and cracking as if the earth itself was splitting apart under some invisible force.

And then came the hum.

Low at first, like the sound of something massive breathing deep beneath the surface. It seeped into my ribs, vibrating through my bones until my teeth ached. It grew louder, sharper, until it felt like my skull was about to crack open. My knees buckled, and I hit the ground hard, scraping my hands against the jagged stone as the world around me blurred and spun.

When I lifted my head, the cliffs were gone.

The square stretched before me, but it wasn’t Ashora. It wasn’t anywhere. It was wrong—impossible. The air burned, thick with ash that stung my skin, sharp as tiny blades. It fell in relentless spirals, coating my hair, my lips, clinging to every breath I dragged in. My throat felt raw, each inhale scraping against the fire that churned in the back of my mouth.

The cobblestones beneath me glowed with veins of molten red, pulsing like blood. They cracked and hissed, each fissure spreading wider, revealing shadows writhing beneath the surface, waiting to escape. The air trembled, alive with something ancient and angry, a force that pressed against my chest, coiling tighter and tighter until I could feel it crushing my ribs.

I tried to step back, but my legs wouldn’t move. My body wasn’t my own anymore.

Above me, the sky churned in violent streaks of red and black, twisting and roiling like something alive, something monstrous clawing to break free. Streaks of molten light split the darkness, each crack burning hotter, brighter, until it hurt to look at. But I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

The hum sharpened, turning jagged. A thousand screams tangled together, grinding against my skull until my vision blurred. My breath hitched, ragged and useless, as the pressure built and built, a weight so crushing it felt like the world itself was collapsing.

Then the shadows came.

They slithered across the ground, long and sharp, their edges cutting through the ash like knives. Tendrils stretched toward the glowing cracks, curling hungrily around the edges, clawing their way out. They writhed and twisted, moving faster, hungrier, their shapes unfurling like blackened fire.

I followed them with my eyes, my heartbeat hammering so loud it drowned out the screams. Above, the sky broke open, and shapes began to emerge from the writhing black. They weren’t clouds.

They were too sharp, too deliberate, moving with a predatory grace as they cut through the ash-choked sky. Their edges shimmered, flickering between solid and smoke, but their forms were unmistakable, blades against the burning red light, hungry and sharp. Their shadows rippled below, spreading farther and deeper, swallowing the square inch by inch.

The hum shifted, deeper, heavier. It wasn’t sound anymore. It was weight, pressing harder, crushing me beneath it. The first strike came like a thunderclap.

Fire split the sky, a jagged streak of molten red that slammed into the ground with a deafening roar. The cobblestones shattered, shards of molten stone spinning through the air like shrapnel. The flames roared to life, greedy and wild, devouring everything in their path.

Another strike. Then another.

Buildings twisted and collapsed, their edges stretching unnaturally as if the world itself was being pulled apart at the seams. Fire raged, turning stone to ash and ash to nothing. And the screams. Oh gods, the screams. They were everywhere. High and sharp, raw and jagged, tearing through the chaos like glass.

I turned toward the sound, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it might tear free. My legs stayed rooted, the air holding me fast as I watched the shadows find them, one by one.

The square was full now, faces flickering through the chaos like reflections on shattered glass. I knew them all. Kael, Cynane, Abba, and yet they seemed wrong, distorted, as if the world couldn’t hold them together.

The shadows found them one by one.

Cynane stood amidst the ash, her frame small against the inferno, her brace glowing faintly from the heat. Her lips moved, forming words I couldn’t hear, her hand reaching for something—someone. But the shadows reached her first. They wrapped around her legs, her arms, curling like black vines until they tightened, jerking her backward. Her eyes locked on mine for a brief, unbearable second, wide with fear. Cynane was gone, swallowed by the black.

Kael was next, fighting even as the shadows coiled around him. He struck out wildly with his knife, the blade flashing red and gold in the pulsing light. “Aya!” he screamed, his voice tearing through the roar of the fire, cutting straight into my chest. “Run!” His knife slashed at the tendrils, cutting through one before two more replaced it, stronger and faster. His movements slowed, the shadows dragging him down as he struggled. His face turned to me, twisted with rage and terror. “Don’t stop! GO!”

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I couldn’t. My legs were locked, my breath frozen in my throat.

The elders stood on their dais, their faces impassive but their eyes alight with something that sent ice down my spine. Malrik was at the center, his figure rigid and unyielding, his gray robes edged in flickering gold from the fire. His scar caught the light, deepening the harsh lines of his face as he stared into the chaos. He didn’t move. Didn’t shout. His hands remained clasped behind his back, the faintest twitch in his jaw the only betrayal of emotion.

This wasn’t his judgment. This was something else entirely.

Abba stood apart from them, just beyond the square, his staff gripped so tightly his knuckles were white. His face was carved from stone, his mouth forming silent words that I couldn’t understand. He wasn’t moving. Why wasn’t he moving?

“Abba!” I tried to scream, but the word wouldn’t come. My chest heaved, but no sound broke free.

The shadows reached him too. They crept up his legs, wrapping around his waist like they belonged there. He didn’t flinch. His head turned sharply, and his eyes met mine.

It wasn’t him. It couldn’t be him.

The fire roared higher, and the sky split with a deafening crack. The light above throbbed faster, each pulse dragging everything closer to its searing glow. I could feel it now, the pull of it, the way it clawed at my chest, my arms, my mind. The flames licked at the edges of the square, devouring the cobblestones, twisting the air into something unbreathable.

“Aya!” Kael’s voice again, desperate and raw, pierced through the chaos. I turned back, but the shadows had dragged him to his knees. His knife was gone, lost in the dark tendrils that curled around his arms and chest. Cynane was gone. The space where she had been was empty, swallowed whole.

I felt my nails digging into my palms, the sharp sting grounding me for a fleeting moment before even that slipped away. My hands burned. The flames were back, crawling up my fingers, licking at my skin like they belonged to me. They didn’t hurt. They felt... familiar.

The light above surged again, blinding, searing into my vision even as I closed my eyes.

“What is buried does not sleep.”

The words weren’t spoken. They were carved into my thoughts, twisting and jagged. They filled the air, scraping against my mind until I thought I might split apart.

The fire surged, and the screams swelled, overlapping in a terrible, jagged harmony. Men, women, children. The sounds of their agony were endless, each one carving into me deeper than the last.

The shadows reached for me now. Long, sharp tendrils curling around my feet, climbing my legs. I tried to move, to fight, but my body wouldn’t listen. The flames on my hands flickered, dimming as the shadows tightened.

Abba’s eyes locked on mine one last time, and this time, they weren’t empty. There was something there. Regret. Love. And something heavier—resignation.

He mouthed something I couldn’t hear as the shadows dragged him into the light.

The sky split open, and the fire rained down in jagged streaks, each one striking the earth like the blow of a hammer. The light above pulsed harder, pulling everything closer. The screams grew louder, sharper, tearing at the edges of my thoughts until they threatened to unravel completely.

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe.

And then the light consumed me.

I hit the ground hard, my knees scraping against the stone, but the pain felt distant, like it didn’t belong to me. My breath came in short, jagged bursts, sharp and useless. The cliffs were there again solid, cold, but they felt unreal, like I was caught between two worlds.

The fire. The light. The screams. They clung to me, burned into my skin, twisting through my thoughts until they felt like they were branded there.

My hands dug into the ground, my fingers trembling so violently I could barely keep my grip. Each inhale felt like it might tear me apart. My chest was too tight, my throat too dry. My heart slammed against my ribs, and the sound of that terrible hum still vibrated somewhere deep inside me.

What the hell was that?

The question repeated in my mind, desperate and frantic, but no answer came.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the memories of what I’d just seen, but they were burned into me, vivid and sharp. The heat on my face, the ash choking my lungs, the blood-red light swallowing everything. Abba’s eyes locking onto mine.

I felt like I was falling all over again.

Another breath, ragged and shallow. Then another. My body shook with every one, the panic twisting tighter, feeding on itself like a living thing.

It wasn’t real.

It couldn’t have been real.

But it felt real.

I opened my eyes, and the cliffs blurred back into focus, jagged and unmoving. I pressed my palms into the stone beneath me, forcing myself upright, though my legs felt weak and unsteady.

What the hell was that?

The thought hit harder this time, sharp and insistent, cutting through the haze of fear clouding my mind. What had I just seen? What had I felt? The ash, the fire, the screams—they weren’t just in my head. They were on my skin, in my lungs, wrapped around my chest like chains.

My stomach churned, and bile rose in my throat. I clutched at my middle, my nails digging into my side as if I could steady myself, but it didn’t help.

I could still see them.

Abba, his staff clutched in his hands, standing so calm, so still, as the shadows dragged him away. Cynane, Kael, and others—so many others—faces twisted in pain, their bodies breaking apart in that pulsing, hungry light.

The shadows, crawling and stretching like living things. The fire ripping through the sky. That hum, echoing through my chest like it was alive.

What did I just see? What did I just feel?

I stumbled forward, my boots catching on the uneven ground, and caught myself against a jagged edge. My palm scraped against the stone, and the sting was sharp enough to cut through the haze in my head.

It couldn’t have been real.

It shouldn’t have been real.

But it felt too raw, too vivid, to be anything else.

I pressed my forehead to the rock, the cool surface grounding me just enough to think. Was it a vision? A warning? Or was it something worse? Something meant for me?

A chill crept over me, sharper than the night wind.

No one else saw it. No one else felt it. That meant it was mine, wasn’t it?

The thought hit me like a weight, sinking into my chest and dragging me down. What if it wasn’t just some nightmare? What if it wasn’t a trick of my mind? What if…

I swallowed hard, the taste of ash still on my tongue. My legs ached, my chest burned, but none of it mattered.

What did I see? What did it mean?

I turned toward the cliffs, the ocean crashing below, the sound faint and far away. The world around me felt wrong too quiet, too still, like it was waiting for something. Or maybe I was.

The hum hadn’t stopped. It was fainter now, but it was still there, rattling in my ribs, tugging at the edges of my thoughts. I couldn’t shake it. I couldn’t outrun it.

I tried to focus, to think of what to do, but my mind kept circling back to the same question:

What the hell did I just see?

And why did it feel like it wasn’t over?