The night was heavy with rain, droplets hammering on the forest floor like impatient fingers. Talia's heart raced, her breath coming in short, panicked bursts as she sprinted through the dense, dark forest. Her boots barely made a sound against the forest floor, muffled by the thick carpet of leaves and underbrush, but her pulse thundered in her ears. Every fiber of her being told her to run, to keep going—to escape, though no one was following her. There was an uncertain danger, but she dared not question her gut feeling. She couldn't think clearly most part of her brain was focused on escaping the twisted trees, whose branches curled outward like witch's fingers. Beneath them, hollow spaces lurked, and she knew that if she lost focus or stopped to rest, they would come to life, devouring her to the bone. Her instincts were always spot-on, and right now, they were screaming at her to run.
Her trail of thoughts was interrupted by a flicker of movement. A strange shape emerged from the shadows on her left as a clearing came into focus. The dim moonlight illuminated the edges of the clearing, casting eerie shadows. Talia froze, her breath hitching in her chest, unsure whether the figure was a friend or foe.
She stumbled to a halt, her body skidding against the slick ground. Her eyes widened in disbelief as she tried to make sense of what lay before her.
The tree was enormous, far larger than any living thing she had ever seen. Its trunk was twisted and contorted, the bark slick and glistening like wet stone, dark veins running through its surface. But it wasn't the size or the shape that made her blood run cold—it was the pattern carved into its bark. At first, it looked like a random array of gnarled branches, but as her gaze sharpened, a horrific realization hit her.
The tree's bark had taken the unmistakable shape of a heart. Not just any heart, but a living, pulsing heart. The intricate network of veins ran in complex patterns, each one throbbing with an eerie rhythm, as if the tree was alive—breathing.
Talia's breath caught in her throat, her body frozen in place, unable to look away. The heart-shaped design on the tree seemed to throb with a pulse all its own, its steady rhythm both soothing and deeply unsettling. The veins that wove around the trunk weren't just patterns; they were moving, contracting and expanding as though they were carrying blood through the tree. The very center of the heart—the point where the veins converged—glistened with a dark, slick fluid, reflecting the pale light of the moon as it pulsed with life.
A strange hum filled the air, resonating with the rhythm of the heart, and the forest around her seemed to hold its breath, as though everything was aware of the unnatural thing standing before her. The wind seemed to quiet, the animals still—everything held in a suspended state.
Talia's chest tightened with a mixture of awe and terror, her mind screaming for her to look away, to turn and run as far from this unnatural thing as possible. She took a cautious step forward, then another, the ground beneath her feet feeling hollow, as if even the earth itself was unsure of what to make of the tree.
As she approached, there was a pull, a beckoning sense of connection, as though the tree itself was aware of her presence, aware of her heart's deepest desires. The ancient being stood, eternal and wise, watching over the land with the quiet dignity of something that had weathered the passage of time—and perhaps, would continue to do so long after the world had forgotten its name.
Her hands trembled as she reached out instinctively, but then the tree did something that made her freeze in place.
The heart, as if sensing her presence, gave a sudden, deep beat—a low, heavy thud that vibrated through the ground and into her very bones. It was alive.
Talia gasped, her legs buckling beneath her as the pulse seemed to echo in her chest. She fell backward onto the forest floor, her hands pressing into the soft earth beneath her for support. The heart's rhythmic pulsing continued, louder now, as if calling to her, pulling her in. The veins of the tree seemed to writhe and move, stretching out like arms reaching toward her, coaxing her closer.
She scrambled to her feet, heart pounding so hard it felt as though it might burst. Her eyes darted around, looking for an escape, but the forest—this strange, otherworldly place—seemed to be closing in on her, the trees bending inward, as if they were complicit in the heart's hypnotic pull.
A distant voice seemed to whisper her name, barely audible over the thudding of the tree's heartbeat.
"Talia..." The sound was soft, coaxing, as though the forest itself had a message to impart.
She shook her head, desperate to clear her thoughts. She couldn't stay here. This was beyond anything she could understand, beyond anything she was ready for. But her feet felt rooted to the ground, drawn toward the pulsing heart that beat in sync with her own fear-stricken pulse. Something inside her told her that if she didn't get away now, the forest would swallow her whole, that the tree's rhythm would become her own.
In a frantic burst of adrenaline, she tore her gaze away from the tree and ran, her legs moving faster than her mind could process. She didn't know what the tree was, or what it wanted, but she knew that she could not let its call consume her.
Behind her, the heart continued to beat, echoing through the still forest as though it was calling for her—and somehow aware of her every step.
The voice grew louder, even though she was trying to escape the tree, running as fast as she could. Yet, it seemed to draw closer. Fear gripped her soul, and in a last-ditch effort, she sprinted forward, her feet slipping on the wet, moss-covered ground.
Talia sat up, dazed, her eyes wide with a mix of wonder and fear. It was just a dream, she realized, and the voice calling her belonged to none other than Nina, her aunt. She frowned, burying her face in the soft folds of the blanket, her long, bronze hair falling around her like a heavy curtain, the strands tangled and wild yet somehow elegant. She sighed, allowing herself feel the warmth of the air, scented with wildflowers and something metallic. She squinted. It's always the same nightmare. It wasn't exactly scary, she thought, but definitely uncomfortable. It always left her feeling tired and drained, as though she hadn't slept a wink. She shook her head, trying to clear the remnants of her restless sleep, and called out to Nina, letting her know she was awake.