A girl stood in the center of the clearing. Her back was turned, but Aisling could see that she was beautiful. Her hair was golden and flowing; her skin was as pale and flawless as cream as it shone radiantly in the moonlight. The blonde’s head was cocked just enough to the side for Aisling to make out the gentle curvature of a creamy jaw and the soft pout of rose-petal lips. She looked so sad standing alone in the moonlight.

Drawn forward by some deep-rooted longing, Aisling made her way out of the trees towards the girl, desperate to do something, anything, to keep her from looking so shattered. She approached slowly and carefully, not wanting to startle the girl, but her attempt at indiscretion failed when she stepped on a branch. It broke, and its retort echoed through the clearing like a gunshot. The girl spun around, shock and fear plainly visible on her face.

As soon as she laid eyes upon Aisling, the girl’s expression crumpled and morphed, cycling through bewilderment, recognition and disbelief, almost faster than Aisling could register them. Her eyes, which Aisling noticed were a frigid blue, were wide and painfully bright in the darkness.

“You,” the girl breathed. Her voice sounded like silk and honey. “You can’t be.” Her brows furrowed. “You’re dead.”

Aisling blinked. She’d expected the girl to yell, or to demand what she thought she was doing, or how she’d found her in the middle of the woods, but being told she was dead by a girl she didn’t even know—she hadn’t expected that. Confused and somewhat disturbed, she looked at the blonde like she was mad. “Excuse me?”

The blonde’s voice seemed to fail her. Her mouth moved and her throat flexed, but no sound escaped her lips, until: “Aisling…”

Like the pulling of a trigger, the sound of that voice, so inexplicably familiar, whispering her name sent her over the edge. A frenzy of emotions washed over the brunette: horror, terror, anger, and despair. They nearly forced Aisling to her knees. Sounds roared in her ears: screams and the clanging of metal; the shouts of men and the roars of beasts; the whimpering of little children. Then the world went hazy.

Aisling stumbled back, grasping desperately for purchase against the trunk of a nearby tree. The sudden rush had sent her head spinning. By the time the world had righted itself enough for Aisling to force her eyes open the girl was gone and the clearing was dark. It was as if no one had ever been there at all.