▪︎Firera's Dimension▪︎
[Gale's POV]
One moment, there was the rough wood of the wagon, the panicked faces of the werewolves, and the cold bite of silver chains. The next, there was only a blinding, featureless white.
I blinked, my wings twitching in confusion. I looked down. A field of impossibly green grass stretched to a horizon I couldn't see, each blade perfectly defined, yet the air was utterly still and silent—devoid of any breeze or birdsong. The silence was absolute, oppressive, like the world itself was holding its breath.
A dream? I wondered. No. This is too real. Too... deliberate.
"A pest in my dimension."
The voice was female, resonant, and dripped with ancient, unimpressed authority. The kind of voice that expected obedience without question.
