An unsettling yet strangely comforting chill slid over Emma’s skin as she slept, like an invisible hand brushing along her arms and neck. It wasn’t like the icy cave she had fallen asleep in... no, this was softer, slower, and somehow heavier. It pressed gently but insistently against her nerves until she could no longer ignore it.

  Her eyelids fluttered, lashes trembling faintly as if reluctant to wake, but the sensation gnawed at her awareness until her eyes opened, sluggishly at first, then wider in confusion.

  She found herself lying on her side, cheek against something cool and faintly damp. Her gaze met the ground before anything else, a dense carpet of dark green grass. Each blade was thick, almost black at the roots, the tips pale and dusted with something that glittered faintly in the dim light.

  Wait… don’t tell me it happened again, she murmured under her breath, her voice low and calm. The corners of her eyes twitched as the realization sank in... this was not where she had fallen asleep. She remembered clearly: the icy cave walls covered with frost, the dim bluish light, the muffled breathing of Jett, Ron, Liz, and Dan nearby. She had been curled against a slab of cold stone, the hardness of it, she couldn't forget.

  Now, the cold was gone.

  Slowly, she pushed herself upright, her palms brushing over the damp grass. The air here smelled faintly metallic, mixed with a sharp freshness she couldn’t place. Her silver white hair slid over her shoulders as she sat up fully, strands clinging slightly to her skin.

  Above her stretched a sky that didn’t feel like a sky at all..

  It was a vast, flat expanse of ashen white-gray. It had no depth, no light, no sun or cloud. It was like someone had stretched a painted canvas overhead, the color faded and lifeless. Too pale to be gray, too empty to be called white.

  Emma rose to her feet with care, brushing off her hands, her movements unhurried yet restless. She should have felt fear, or at least unease, but instead there was only a quiet certainty inside her, a gnawing instinct telling her that none of this was real.

  It was as though she stood in a dream, or a trance… something far removed from waking reality.

  Her gaze roamed across the plain, the endless field of dark grass trembling faintly under an invisible wind. Tiny specks drifted down from above, not quite snow yet not quite ash, each flake melting instantly on contact with her skin.

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  She took a step forward, then froze mid-motion. Something felt wrong... the texture of the fabric against her arms, the weight of the material hanging from her shoulders. Slowly, she looked down at herself.

  The dark blue and light blue shirt she had worn before was gone, the sleeves that had once brushed just to her elbows replaced by something she didn't recall wearing. The ash-gray skirt that had swayed around her knees had vanished as well.

  She was wearing something entirely different,

  What she wore now was a pure white dress that hung loosely from her shoulders, flowing past her knees like a gentle stream of cloth, swaying with every subtle movement.

  Her pale silver white hair caught the faint light that existed here, the strands moving in slow ripples as she tilted her head. The soft hem of her new dress brushed against her calves, whispering with each step. Her bare soles met the grass as if the world beneath her feet were fragile enough to shatter.

  Emma couldn't help but exhale slowly, the sound almost lost in the hollow quiet.

  “This is definitely a trance,” she murmured, her voice even, carrying just enough weight to disturb the silence. “Someone must be trying to tell me something. Or…” Her words trailed off, the unfinished thought dissolving into the air as she began walking.

  The plain seemed endless, no direction, no path, yet also finite, as if she could reach its edge if she only kept walking long enough. The grass beneath her feet bent with a soft hiss, swaying back once she passed, the blades cool and slick against her skin.

  While Emma was walking she noticed a faint line of white rope lying against the grass, thin yet clear enough to catch her eye. It trailed forward in a single direction, disappearing into the dark mist of the plain. She slowed, her head tilting slightly, studying it before letting her gaze scan the distance. No sound. No wind.

  Her steps became intentional, cautious. Though she followed the rope, her body carried the memory of the last ambush of the deer-like entity that had dragged her into that strange personal cosmology. She moved with a calm vigilance, each breath measured, her unique white eyes darting occasionally into the endless expanse on either side.

  Eventually, she stopped. The rope had led her to something unexpected, a nest, resting low in the grass as if it had always been there. The woven structure was the color of old bark, the texture uneven with the careful layering of thin twigs and fig-like fibers. And in its center lay an egg, dark blue in color, smooth but faintly pulsing with a slow rhythm. Each pulse breathed out a thin veil of dark frost energy, the air around it faintly shimmering in response.

  Emma’s lips curved slightly, a quiet note of satisfaction touching her expression.

  “So it’s here,” she whispered, her voice carrying both recognition and a fragile thread of hope. She knew this egg was not the real one, its existence felt too muted, too unreal, but that didn’t dull the warmth in her chest. It was still a clue, a trace that might lead her to the true one.

  She stepped forward, the grass parting under her bare feet. But just a few inches from the egg, she froze. Her body stilled mid-step, her shadow merging with the shape of the nest. Her expression shifted, softening into something unreadable, her eyes narrowing faintly as she spoke.

  “Why are you trying to manipulate my existence?”

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