I woke up before I understood I was asleep. My body jerked forward in the dark, like I had been pulled back from somewhere deep underwater. The air in my lungs felt too sharp—too real—like I had forgotten how to breathe properly and just remembered.
The room was still. Too still. The kind of stillness that makes you think something is listening.
There is fire.
Not burning me—but burning everything else. The ground shifts like broken glass trying to pretend it is solid. I am running. Or fighting. Or both. I cannot tell anymore.
A voice follows me. Not loud. Not angry. Just… certain."Do not look back." I don't know why I understand it. But I do. And I hate that I do. Something is behind me. Not chasing. Waiting...
Scene: Commoner's House - Night
I sat up in bed, gripping the edge of the blanket like it was the only thing proving I was still here. Sweat clung to my skin. My breathing was uneven.
The room smelled like old wood and dry cloth. Normal. Everything was normal. That was the problem.
I pressed a hand against my chest. There was nothing there. Just skin, just heartbeat. But sometimes, only sometimes - it feels like there should be something else underneath. Something shaped like a mark I can't describe.
"…I was there again."
I don't know where "there" is. But I always know when I've been back. Because I wake up with the same feeling: like I forgot something important on purpose.