Page 138 of When the Storm Breaks

---

The haze is gone, but the air is colder now, needling into my skin. Far off, I hear the sounds of a city—cars, voices—but when I try to call out, my voice dies in my throat.

The world hums, muffled. Like I’m trapped in a bubble, just outside of reach.

I shake off the unease.

Keep moving.

The pavement melts away, the streets bleeding back into forest—but it’s different this time. Darker.

The trees loom taller, their twisted branches clawing at the sky.

The path ahead is narrow, swallowed by creeping vines. The ground is too soft now—almost liquid—sucking at my feet with every step.

The scent of earth and pine overtakes me, but beneath it… something rotting.

Sour. Decayed.

I stop. Turn.

The path behind me is gone.

Or maybe it was never there.

Everything looks the same—left, right, forward, back. No markers. No sense of where I came from, or where I’m going.

Panic coils tight in my chest, pressing hard against my ribs.

I move faster.

But I don’t know if I’m getting anywhere, or if I’m just running in place.

The more I move, the more the world shifts.

Too hot. Too cold. Too much. Too fast.

The ground turns slick beneath my feet—

And then I’m falling.

I hit my knees hard. Mud clings to my skin, damp and cold. I try to push up, but my palms sink deeper into the earth.

I slip.

I claw at the ground, at anything solid. My fingers grasp for branches, for vines—

But they crumble in my hands.

Like they were never there at all.

A sharp breath punches out of me—raw, panicked.

I try to scream.

“Haiyden!”

His name rips from my throat.

But the trees don’t answer. Nothing does. Just a silence that swallows me whole.

---