The night was still, yet the air crackled with something unseen, something ancient. Belinda's breath came in shallow gasps as she stared at the reflection in the water, her pulse hammering against her ribs. The silver-eyed stranger did not move, did not blink, yet she felt his presence pressing against her, as if he were standing right beside her rather than trapped within the rippling surface.
A gust of wind swept through the riverbank, carrying the crisp scent of pine and damp earth. The branches above swayed, whispering secrets only the night could understand. Belinda clenched her trembling hands into fists, trying to steady the unease churning in her chest.
"Who… who are you?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the rustling leaves.
The reflection flickered. The water trembled, and the man's lips parted as if he were about to speak, then, as suddenly as he appeared, the image shattered.
The river went still once more. Her own reflection stared back at her, wide-eyed and pale beneath the moonlight.
Belinda scrambled to her feet, her breath hitching. Had she imagined it? The exhaustion of a long day, the loneliness of the night, was her mind playing tricks on her?
Yet deep down, she knew it was real.
The pull in her chest had not faded. If anything, it had grown stronger.
She turned sharply, scanning the trees behind her. The shadows stretched long in the moon's glow, shifting as the wind danced through the branches. Nothing moved, yet she could not shake the feeling that she was being watched.
Leave, her instincts screamed.
But her feet refused to move.
A twig snapped.
Belinda's heart leapt into her throat. She spun around, her cloak whipping against her legs.
Silence.
The trees loomed, dark and foreboding, their trunks gnarled with age. Her throat tightened as she took a hesitant step back toward the village.
Then, a whisper brushed against her ear. A voice, soft, distant, yet undeniably real.
"Find me."
Belinda gasped, her hands flying to her ears as if she could shut out the sound. But it was not coming from around her. It was inside her mind.
The world swayed. A dizziness washed over her, and she stumbled, barely catching herself before falling into the river. The water lapped at the edges, eerily still, as if waiting.
She couldn't stay here. Not when the night whispered things she didn't understand.
Gathering the edges of her cloak, Belinda turned and ran.
The village was quiet when she reached it, but the silence felt different now, charged, expectant, as if the very air had shifted. She reached her cottage, fumbled with the latch, and pushed inside, slamming the door shut behind her.
Her breaths came fast and uneven as she pressed her back against the wooden frame, her mind racing.
Who was the man in the river? Why did he seem familiar? And why…
Why did she feel as if something had awakened within her?
Something she was never meant to remember.