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The night was beautiful—a canvas of obsidian sky punctuated with stars that shimmered like distant lighthouses. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of dew-laden grass and blooming night flowers, their perfume lingering long after she passed them by. Ancient trees lined the path, their leaves whispering softly.
Her feet carried her unbidden toward the silhouette of an old oak tree, its branches a tangled canopy against the starlit sky. She paused beneath it, recalling how its leaves had once whispered secrets to a young woman with dreams in her eyes.
She drew in deep, shuddering breaths, attempting to stitch the fabric of her composure back together.
this was threat made flesh, a harbinger of malice poised at the precipice of violence.
her mind, a vault that collected and preserved moments with obsessive care.
