“Yes yes, I know.

  Ya know, it’s not fair. It’s so hard to argue with you.

  I’ll go…just give me one more minute. I have to show you something she made.”

  “Wake…wake Child… Memory…

  You…re…asleep f…. long…

  This…world….her…

  Min..ottir..wake…

  The first thing was the sound.

  A faint ringing, sharp and endless, like glass trembling on the edge of shatter. It wove through her mind until it was all she knew, drowning out every other sense. It throbbed in rhythm with her heartbeat, each pulse jagged and hot, as though the noise had carved itself into the marrow of her bones. She floated there for what felt like hours, pinned beneath the sound, unable to think of anything else.

  Slowly, painfully slowly, other fragments bled in around the ringing. A blur of brightness behind her closed eyelids. The faintest pressure of her chest rising and falling. The iron taste on her tongue, sharp and metallic, as if she had bitten herself. Breath scraped in and out of her lungs, shallow and uneven, each inhale trembling against ribs that felt battered and sore. Her entire body seemed to ache, though she couldn’t remember why.

  Then came the flashes. Not whole memories, but shards, jagged and unkind. A screech of tires. The stomach?dropping jolt of something colliding, hard enough to rattle her spine. Metal folding in on itself with a sickening groan. Her body whipped forward, caught in something unyielding. A…fire…? A voice screaming. Was it hers? Someone else’s? She couldn’t tell. And then, a fragment of color in the chaos: blonde hair caught in the corner of her eye, gleaming against the light just before—

  The ringing swelled, drowning it out. She tried to push against it, but the sound filled her until she was suffocating in it, like water rushing into a broken hull, unstoppable. Her pulse kicked harder, her breath turned ragged, and she struggled against the formless weight pressing her down.

  Her eyelids fluttered, heavy as stone, but she forced them open. Light flooded in, diffuse and soft. The world above her was green and endless, a canopy of leaves spread wide, their edges shining where sunlight slipped through in shafts. The branches moved gently in the breeze, whispering to one another. The sight cut through the ringing just enough to remind her she was still alive.

  She sucked in a breath and realized she wasn’t lying on dirt, or stone, or anything she could name. Beneath her was something softer than grass, but firmer than any mattress. It gave beneath her weight in a strange, springing way, like a trampoline woven of velvet. A faint floral scent clung to it, rich and cloying, as though the air itself had been steeped in perfume.

  A sharp twitch of pain lanced up her ribs when she shifted. The ache spread out in waves, carrying with it every bruise and wound her body had collected. Her shoulders burned, tight as though something had restrained her there. Her stomach felt tender. Her thigh throbbed with deep, fiery pain. She let out a low groan and rolled her head to the side.

  Beneath her stretched broad petals, curved upward to form a cradle. They were the deepest violet, their surfaces veined with faint silver light that shimmered faintly as though alive. Each petal was wide enough to lie upon, smooth and almost glassy, yet supple under her touch. She blinked in disbelief.

  I’m on…A flower?

  Her breath shuddered. She lifted her hands slowly, feeling the surface beneath her palms. The cool slickness of it was real. Tangible. Her stomach turned. The idea of waking in a forest might have been strange, but this was impossible. Her heart stumbled in her chest, her breath fluttering with confusion. “No… no, no, that’s not right,” she muttered.

  The dress clinging to her body felt wrong, too. She looked down, expecting jeans or pajamas, but found satin instead. Green satin, crushed and wrinkled where she had lain against the flower. The material clung lightly to her skin, shimmering faintly in the sunlight that filtered through the canopy. She brushed her fingertips over it, feeling the cool smoothness of fabric that caught the light like water. A gown. She didn’t remember putting it on. She didn’t remember much of anything at all.

  She took another deep breath, the movement pulled fire through her ribs, and she coughed, gasping against the ache. Slowly, with shaking arms, she pushed herself upright. The petals beneath her dipped with the shift of her weight, trembling as though the plant itself sensed her movement. She sat there swaying, her pulse loud in her ears. Louder even than the birdsong rising faintly through the trees. The forest felt alive around her, but she was locked inside her own body’s complaints, unsure how long she could stay upright.

  The ground below her seemed mercifully close. Just a short drop. She braced her hands against the petal’s curved edge, slid herself forward carefully, and let gravity take her. Her bare feet struck soft earth with a muted thud. The impact jolted pain up her legs, knees buckling beneath her weight, and she sagged forward, catching herself on the grass with both hands. Damp soil pressed cool against her palms, the rich smell of loam and moss rising up into her nose. Wildflowers nearby gave off their sharp, honey?sweet fragrance, mixing with the earthy tang until the air felt heavy with it.

  She stayed kneeling there for several breaths, trying to breathe through the tightness in her chest. Her ribs ached, her stomach flared with pain, but the earth beneath her was steady. She pressed her hands harder into the soil, grounding herself, as if the solidity might keep her from unraveling.

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  Fragments surfaced again, cruel and incomplete. The screech of tearing metal. The flash of harsh light. Blonde hair falling across her vision. Then—nothing. A void where memory should have been. A cold, yawning gap.

  She squeezed her eyes shut and whispered, “A crash.” The word scraped her throat raw. “The blonde woman. And then…” She opened her eyes to the impossible flower looming behind her. “And then this.”

  She pushed herself up slowly, wobbling as the world spun once... twice... before settling into focus. Her hand pressed against her thigh where the pain burned most fiercely, but she forced herself to stand anyway. The clearing spread wide around her, and she turned in place to take it in.

  The glade stretched perhaps thirty feet across, a near?perfect circle of green carved into the surrounding forest. Towering trees formed the walls of her world, their trunks massive and broad. Moss spiraled up their bark in curling patterns, vivid and bright, glowing faintly where the sunlight touched it. Golden shafts broke through the canopy high above, angling down to paint the grass in scattered patches of warm light. Between the roots spilled wildflowers in crimson, white, and pale blue, blossoms clustering thick where shadow met the ground. Their colors burned against the shade, vivid as if painted onto the earth itself.

  She turned again, eyes catching on the enormous violet flower she had woken on. It loomed at the glade’s center, petals pulsing faintly as though drawing breath. The shimmer of silver veining along its surface brightened with every pulse, then dimmed, a rhythm that seemed too alive to be anything but intentional.

  Ariel swallowed hard and pressed her palms against her thighs, trying to ground herself in the feel of her own body. “Okay,” she croaked, her voice hoarse and rough. “Okay. Forest. Giant flower. Definitely not… not normal.”

  She took a few hesitant steps, the cool grass brushing against her bare feet. Every shift of her weight brought pain, her hip throbbing, her shoulder stiff, her ribs pulling against bruises she didn’t remember earning. The ache of her injuries slowed her, forced her to feel every step more vividly.

  “What… happened?” she muttered under her breath, softer this time, as though afraid the forest might answer.

  But there was no reply. Only birdsong, the occasional rustle of leaves overhead, and the faint buzz of insects drifting unseen.

  She turned in a circle, her eyes scanning for any sign of civilization. A road, or a path, or even smoke rising from a chimney. Anything. But the ring of trees remained solid, the trunks pressed tight together as though closing her in. The forest stood indifferent to her need, towering and impenetrable.

  A laugh escaped her, thin and nervous. “Lost in the woods. Classic.” Her lips pulled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Just…just great.”

  She dragged a hand across her temple, massaging at the ache there, trying to force clarity into the fragments in her mind. She could remember every detail of the clearing, of the flower, of the bark under her palm—but not what mattered. Her chest constricted, breath faltering. “Why can’t I… remember?” The words came out in a broken whisper.

  She shivered as the breeze shifted through the clearing, cool enough to make her skin prickle. The satin dress clung uncomfortably, light and too thin for the shaded air. She wrapped her arms around herself, but the gesture felt small and insufficient. Her gaze drifted back to the massive flower at the glade’s center. Its faint glow made it look less like a plant and more like a beacon, a strange anchor against the impossible.

  She circled the clearing slowly, dragging her hand along the bark of one trunk. The rough texture bit into her palm, grounding her even as her eyes searched for a gap, a break, any place she might slip through. But every trunk stood close, wide as pillars, their roots knotted into one another. Shadows pooled thick between them, darker than they should have been, until it seemed the forest was not simply indifferent but actively holding her in. The longer she stared, the more seamless the wall of trees appeared.

  “No way out,” she muttered, voice flat. She let her head drop, lips twisting into a grimace. “Of course. Dropped in the middle of nowhere and fenced in by trees. Perfect.”

  Her body still screamed with every step she took. Every injury dragged at her, wearing her down until she could barely keep moving. Finally, with a soft wince, she pressed away from the trees and made her slow way back toward the flower.

  It waited in the shade, glowing faintly, its petals seeming almost expectant. She sank down onto the grass at its base, leaning her back against one curved petal. The surface was smooth and cool, firm enough to support her weight without giving. It felt strangely alive beneath her skin, as though she leaned against silk pulled taut. Relief flooded her tired limbs, even if the damp soil beneath her dress chilled her legs.

  Her hands fell into her lap. She stared at them for a long time, flexing her fingers open and shut, as though expecting the shape of them to spark a memory. Nothing came. Nothing but the ache in her chest and the faint ringing still lurking at the edges of her awareness.

  She spoke again, softly at first, then louder to fill the silence. “What am I even doing here? I don’t… I don’t remember how I got here. I don’t remember—” Her voice broke. She pressed her palms hard over her eyes, fighting against the sting building there. “God, I don’t remember anything that matters.”

  Her words cracked into the air, brittle and small. She tilted her head back, staring up through the canopy where sunlight fractured into shifting shards. Her voice thinned to near defeat. “I need… I need a way out of this forest.”

  The flower pulsed behind her, sudden and alive, a deep rumbling that vibrated through her spine. She froze, breath locked in her throat.

  *Thrum thrum*

  *Thrum thrum*

  The sound grew—slow and rhythmic. A heartbeat. The forest’s? The ground beneath her trembled faintly, soil quivering under her feet. The beat carried through her bones, rattling deep into her chest until her own pulse stuttered to match it. With every heavy thrum, the soreness and dull pain in her body began to recede, as if the pulsing rhythm was soothing her muscles.

  Her eyes went wide. She twisted, staring back at the flower, watching as its glow brightened in time with the pulse. Each silver vein along its petals shimmered, then dimmed, then shimmered again, perfectly in rhythm with the beat.

  Ahead of her, the wall of trees began to move. Branches groaned as though pushed by invisible hands. Leaves rattled in a great wave, scattering sunlight in jagged patterns. The trunks themselves shifted, ancient wood straining as they drew apart. Slowly, impossibly, a path opened through the forest. Narrow, but clear, cutting straight into the unknown depths beyond.

  Ariel’s breath caught sharp in her throat. Her pulse hammered in time with the flower’s fading heartbeat.

  She pushed herself upright slowly, her body still a storm of aches. But her eyes never left the new path. Confusion tightened her face, her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes wide with disbelief.

  Her voice came small but steady, threading into the glade: “Okay… Where the hell am I?”