Moonlight shimmered across the lake. A thick black forest surrounding it, except for a narrow wooden path cutting through to the festival grounds.
Gillian stood on the edge, clenching her fists, eyes closed and a soft murmur surrounding her. She threw her arm back and tossed the sacred stone.
Plunk
It lingered on the surface before the gentle wave took it under.
A tight sigh escaped as she turned, walking toward the tiny speck of firelight, hope kindling. Trees crowded her like a narrow mountain pass.
Branches snapped and leaves rustled.
“Not yet…” A chill circled her. She knew this distance was too far.
Then the path trembled, buckling beneath a great weight. An acrid stench wafted behind.
Run! She forced herself into a sprint—heavier footfalls behind.
What if it catches me?
“You will make it.” A voice whispered into her ear—Haden. He waited on the edge.
A burning talon seared her, cutting into flesh.
“No…” she yelled as she lunged into the dark figure standing within the circle of light. They fell, breaths mingling.
Guttural croaks broke the blackness.
Silence hovered over them, eyes watched.
He grabbed her hand, turning toward the fire.
Conversations and laughter resumed.
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