Elara woke with a start, her breath caught in her throat. The remnants of the dream clung to her like a fog she couldn't escape. The forest. The fog. And his voice—Alistair's voice—whispering to her in the darkness, Find the truth.

She sat up, blinking against the morning light. The room was quiet, but the lingering weight of the dream pressed down on her chest. She could still feel his grip on her hand, still hear the echo of his words, like they were meant for her and her alone.

Her fingers brushed her left hand instinctively, but the silver ring from the dream wasn't there. She glanced down. Nothing but the faint trace of the dream's magic lingering on her skin.

Find the truth.

It gnawed at her, a question that had no answer. Why did it feel so real? Why was he telling her this? What truth was she supposed to find?

Shaking her head, Elara forced herself out of bed. The familiar scents of lavender and morning coffee surrounded her, but they felt distant. Even her reflection in the mirror seemed foreign, like she was looking at someone else. Someone who had been touched by something impossible.

Her morning routine was automatic. Brush her teeth. Eat a bite of toast. Get dressed for school. But as the minutes passed, she felt more and more disconnected from everything around her. The fog from the dream still clung to her, settling like a weight in her chest.

When she stepped off the bus at school, the feeling of being watched crept over her once again. It wasn't the first time she'd felt it today, but now it was undeniable. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and her breath hitched with each step she took.

It wasn't until lunch that the world shifted again. Elara had just taken a bite of her sandwich when she glanced toward the window. Her eyes locked onto a figure standing across the street—his storm-gray eyes meeting hers.

Her heart skipped a beat.

It was him. Alistair.

But this time, there was something different. Something colder. He stood motionless, like a shadow. His presence was almost suffocating.

Before she could react, a hand on her shoulder snapped her back to reality.

"Are you okay, Elara?" Lila's voice was concerned, but Elara barely heard her. Her gaze was still fixed on the spot across the street. But when she blinked, Alistair was gone.

The café felt too quiet now, as if the entire world had fallen away. "Yeah, just... tired," Elara murmured, her throat dry. She didn't want to explain. She didn't even understand it herself.

Lila frowned but didn't press. She launched into another story about her art class, but Elara wasn't listening. Her mind was still reeling from the sight of him.

Find the truth.

She couldn't stop hearing it. Couldn't stop feeling the weight of it.

The rest of the day dragged on, but everything seemed wrong. The hallways at school felt narrower. The sounds of chatter were muffled. Her steps echoed like she was walking in a world that wasn't entirely hers.

When the final bell rang, Elara didn't want to go home. Didn't want to be alone with the thoughts swirling inside her. But as she walked down the street, that familiar sensation hit her again—the feeling that someone was watching her.

She quickened her pace, but then she saw him.

At the end of the street. Standing there. Watching her.

Alistair.

Her breath caught in her throat. This time, he didn't vanish when she blinked. He was real. He was there. His storm-gray eyes locked with hers, his gaze as intense as ever. But there was something new about it. Something searching.

"Find the truth," his voice whispered, just loud enough for her to hear.

But it wasn't just his voice. The words seemed to reverberate in her mind, in the very air around her, as though the world itself was urging her to listen.

"Why?" she whispered aloud, but the question was for no one in particular.

He didn't answer. Instead, he stepped forward, slowly, deliberately, as if the distance between them was a thing he could control. His hand reached out toward her, his fingers extending, but it was no longer a gesture of comfort. It was something more urgent. More desperate.

"Elara," he whispered again, his voice cutting through the quiet street. "Find the truth."

The ground beneath her feet shifted. The world around her seemed to bend and warp, like a scene in a dream. Elara tried to move, but her legs wouldn't obey. It was like she was stuck in place, caught between waking and sleeping.

She blinked—and then he was gone.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she stumbled backward, her legs trembling beneath her. The street was empty. No sign of him. No trace.

But the words lingered.

Find the truth.

She couldn't ignore them. Not anymore.

With a sinking feeling in her stomach, she turned and headed home. The streets seemed longer, emptier. The weight of the day—of the dream, of the man, of his voice—pressed down on her with each step. She could feel the fog of the curse closing in on her, tightening its grip.

By the time she reached her house, the sun had dipped below the horizon. She washed up, changed into comfortable clothes, but the restlessness didn't leave her. As she lay in bed, the darkness of night surrounding her, the whisper of Alistair's words echoed in her mind.

Find the truth.

Sleep didn't come easily. And when it did, it was no relief.

The forest waited for her, as it always did. The fog, thick and oppressive. The trees, looming and dark. And there, in the distance, was Alistair.

His eyes met hers through the mist. Cold. Distant.

"Elara," he said again, but this time, his voice was filled with an urgency she hadn't heard before. "The truth is closer than you think."

Her heart raced as she reached for him, but the fog thickened, swallowing him whole. He was slipping away, fading just like the world around her.

She had to find him. She had to find the truth.

But as she reached out, the world shattered, and the darkness closed in.