Chapter 1. THE CROSSING
There was nothing poetic about the way I left.
No tears. No dramatic playlist. No one standing in the driveway, yelling something they’d regret. Just me, a half-warm granola bar, and three hours of asphalt.
And silence.
Not the peaceful kind. The other kind. The kind that hums in your bones and makes your skin itch like your past is chasing you down the rearview.
I took another bite of the bar and gagged a little. “Dry depression in wrapper form,” I mumbled.
It still beat stopping. I didn’t want to stop. Stopping meant thinking. And thinking usually led me somewhere I didn’t want to be—like Josh.
Ugh. Josh.
The man could hold eye contact during sex but couldn't emotionally identify a sock, let alone a girlfriend. We dated for nine months, and all I got out of it was a deeper understanding of performative attachment and how to fake orgasms with a straight face.
We weren’t a love story. We were a trauma-bonded roommate agreement with benefits.
I cranked the volume on my playlist. sad indie music that didn’t care if I existed—and pressed harder on the gas. The road narrowed as pines leaned in like they were eavesdropping. The sun had dipped low, barely visible through the dense fog that now clung to everything. Then… something moved. A blur. Four-legged. Way too fast. I slammed the brakes. My water bottle flew. My heart yeeted itself into my throat.
“What the—?!”
Nothing. Just fog. No dead animal. No dent. Not even disturbed leaves. I exhaled slowly, both hands white-knuckling the wheel.
“Elk? Wolf? Dementor?” I waited. Nothing replied.
“Cool. Just hallucinating in the murder woods. Nothing to worry about.”
I shifted into drive again, but… something felt off. Wrong. The fog wasn’t clearing like it should. It shifted, curling tighter, like it was watching me. Then my phone buzzed once and died. NO SIGNAL. And then… the light changed. It wasn’t night anymore. It wasn’t even twilight. It was golden. The kind of light that doesn’t exist unless it’s filtered through Instagram or a vivid fever dream. It streamed through the trees like molten honey. I blinked, heart thudding. What the hell? I glanced at the dashboard. 5:41 PM. Still evening. Still wrong. Then came the hum.
Low.
Deep.
Vibrating in my chest but not from the speakers. Like the forest had decided to exhale and I was standing too close. I gripped the wheel tighter. Then the shimmer. Just a flicker in my peripheral vision—like the edges of the world were glitching. And suddenly... I wasn’t on pavement anymore. The car had rolled to a stop. No brake. No warning. Just… dirt. Forest. And not the same forest. This one was too green. The trees were too tall. The silence? Wrong. No road behind me. No familiar landmarks.
I whispered, “I either drove into a dream, died, or just crossed into f***ing Narnia.”
I opened the door, stepping into the golden light. The air felt different—heavier, warmer, older.
"What the actual fuck"
