Torn Between Destinies

At first, it was just the birds.

They used to sing at dawn, a chorus of chirps and whistles that woke us gently in Silverglen. But lately, they’d fallen quiet. I would stand outside our small cabin, Erya cradled against my chest, and listen to the eerie stillness. It felt wrong, like the air was holding its breath.

"Maybe it’s the season changing," Darius said when I mentioned it. "They’ll come back."

But the season hadn’t changed much. The sun still warmed the trees, the breeze still smelled of pine and wildflowers. Yet, something had shifted. The forest felt... watchful.

One morning, while gathering berries near the stream, I saw a deer. Not unusual—but this one stared straight at me, eyes wide, unmoving, even as I approached. Its sides heaved like it had run for miles, but it didn’t bolt.

I slowly backed away, chilled to the bone. When I turned around to walk back, I heard a whisper. Not wind. A voice.

"Luciana..."

I froze.

"Who’s there?" I called out.

The source of thɪs content is NovᴇlFir(e).nᴇt

Nothing.

Only the trees swayed gently, as if nothing had happened.