Chapter One
Rory
I blink, groggy, against the stark silence enveloping me. Where in the name of all that ’ s holy am I? My mind is struggling to place myself within familiar landscapes, but time and space have twisted into something unrecognizable.
I push up from the cold, unyielding ground, shivering. Every instinct screams at me to run, to fight, to do something other than stand here, bewildered.
As I force my arms and legs to fucking obey, my boots crunch against the parched earth beneath me. With each step, my senses go haywire, alert to everything. A weight presses down upon me, and the atmosphere here is thicker, like dense fog.
I stop, straining to hear anything over the ragged intake of my breath. But there ’ s nothing, just my heart hammering in the desolation around me.
There ’ s a prickling sensation at the nape of my neck, an itch that tells me I ’ m being watched. I spin around, expecting to see a monster, a predator, lurking. Instead, there ’ s nothing but the relentless emptiness stretching out before me.
The hair on my arms stands on end. This place... it isn ’ t natural. Every nerve ending tingles knowing that I ’ m standing on the edge of something dark, something powerful, something alien.
A faint rustling sound draws my attention towards a cluster of gnarled trees, their branches like skeletal limbs reaching up, like they ’ re trying to find a way out of here, too. I walk slowly towards them, each step heavy and slow, as if wading through water. But there ’ s nothing there.
It ’ s as if I ’ ve stumbled into a dream—or a nightmare—where reality is warped and distorted. I think about Brigid, the memory of her face the only thing keeping the encroaching panic at bay.
With a jolt, I realize the landscape seems to shift, erasing any evidence of my footsteps in the dusty red dirt.
The void swallows my trail, leaving no trace. Panic claws at my throat. I ’ m trapped in this hellscape with no way back.
Another flicker of movement catches my eye. I whirl, muscles tensed.
Nothing. Just more endless wasteland.
My wolf paces restlessly beneath my skin, desperate to break free. But something tells me shifting would be a fatal mistake here.
I keep moving, fighting the urge to run. Hours pass. Or days. Time has no meaning in this place.
An inhuman shriek shatters the silence. I freeze, blood turning to ice.
Glowing eyes pierce the gloom. Dozens of them, surrounding me.
Fuck.
Grotesque creatures emerge from the dark. Twisted amalgamations of beast and shadow.
I bare my teeth, hands curling into fists, and growl. This place can go fuck itself.
Movement again.
There. A figure materializes from the mist. Female. Dark hair. Familiar curves.
“ Brigid?” My voice cracks, raw hope surging.
She turns. Gray eyes lock onto mine.
But something ’ s off. Her gaze is too sharp, predatory. A cruel smirk twists her lips.
“ Hello, little wolf,” she purrs. Her voice is in my head, layered with other tones. Older. Darker.
I take an involuntary step back. “ You ’ re not her.”
She laughs.