Prologue
Prologue
It was a gray afternoon in 2024 when Lavish heard the scream. A woman’s voice, sharp, distant, echoing from somewhere deep in the forest.
She stopped in her tracks, her schoolbag slipping a little from her shoulder. For a moment, she thought she’d imagined it. The wind often played tricks in Brackenfell’s woods. But then it came again, faint, trembling, unmistakably human.
Before she could move closer, a voice called her name.
“Lavish!”
May was standing by the roadside, holding a small paper bag from the bakery. “Half is yours!” she said, tossing a piece of bread toward her.
Lavish caught it, the warmth seeping into her palms. “It’s still hot,” she said with a small smile, tearing off a bite.
Then, another scream — closer this time.
“Did you hear that?” Lavish asked, her voice low.
May froze. The smile faded from her lips. “What was that?”
Lavish felt an odd mix of fear and relief, fear that it was real, and relief that she wasn’t the only one hearing it. “I don’t know,” she whispered.
The wind shifted, carrying the last trace of the scream through the trees — and then, only silence.