Riley ran.

  The trees rushed past her in an indistinct blur of trunks and shadows, branches clawing at her arms as though trying to slow her down. Her lungs burned with every breath, sharp and cold. Her legs felt heavy, like they were filled with lead, but she kept pushing forward because she remembered what was behind her.

  And in this dream, she saw them clearly.

  The first beast crashed through the underbrush like a landslide wrapped in muscle. Every movement looked powerful enough to snap a tree in half.

  Around its massive neck hung a pendant the size of a human fist. A circular piece of dark metal, as black as a starless sky. Three deep slashes cut across its surface. The claw marks shimmered red, as if filled with molten light or blood that refused to cool. The pendant pulsed in the darkness of the dream, an eerie heartbeat that did not match the creature’s own. She hadn’t caught all the details in the chaos of the chase, but that symbol had lodged itself in her memory, surfacing now with a clarity that felt almost deliberate.

  The leader’s claws were long and black, curved talons, glinting every time they caught a scrap of sunlight through the canopy. They dug into the earth with each step, leaving deep gouges that were impossible to mistake for any ordinary predator.

  Two more beasts flanked it. Smaller, but only in comparison. Each one was taller than she was, their bodies packed with muscle, their movements frighteningly agile. Their claws were just as black. Their breaths streamed from their jaws in hot white plumes. They ran with terrifying purpose. Not hunting. Chasing. And they were closing in.

  Riley tried to scream, but her dream throat felt as if it had been welded shut.

  She turned sharply, feet slipping on wet leaves as she scrambled toward a patch of ferns. Her heart thudded like a drum in her ears. She dove through the greenery, expecting the beasts to crash down upon her.

  But they didn’t.

  The forest dissolved.

  She stumbled forward into a different scene entirely.

  The air was filled with smoke and war cries. The soft green forest floor became trampled dirt and broken stone. A hill rose beneath her feet, and she stood upon it like an unwilling spectator as an entire battlefield spread out below.

  The tower stood behind her, but it was not the ruined stump she knew. It was tall and whole, stone unmarred, its iron-bound door closed, its battlements intact. Its silhouette was a proud spine against a storm-dark sky.

  A castle loomed in the valley below. Not a simple keep, but a sprawling stronghold with multiple towers, thick walls, and courtyard structures Riley could not fully comprehend. Flags whipped violently in the wind, but their insignia refused to come into focus no matter how hard she stared at them.

  The battle below raged in a chaotic sprawl. On one side, soldiers in gleaming silver armor marched in tight formation, shields flashing in the light. On the other side, warriors clad in crimson cloth and dark leather surged forward with ferocity, their weapons raised high.

  Rangers at the rear of the forces unleashed endless volleys of arrows. The sky darkened with them as they rained down upon the front line.

  Cavalry units charged, horses pounding across the field with the power of thunder rolling across earth.

  Infantry ranks clashed. Metal slammed against metal. Shouts rose and were swallowed by screams. The ground shook beneath the force of so many bodies struggling and pressing together.

  Something roared. Something big enough that the sound quaked in Riley’s bones.

  Magic burst across the battlefield like lightning. Blue and white streaks tore through the air, leaving trails of smoke in their wake before exploding into showers of sparks that briefly lit the world.

  The entire scene was overwhelming. Riley tried to focus on a single soldier or beast or banner, but everything blurred together, an impossible swirl of motion and violence. She felt like she was trying to hold onto water as it rushed through her fingers.

  A bright flash cut through the chaos. A pulsing blue light that seemed to radiate from everywhere and nowhere.

  Then the scene dissolved.

  Riley found herself floating within the tower. Not the tower from the battlefield, but the one she had found refuge in from that beast. Though she recognized the tower, there was a strangeness to it now, a distortion that made her doubt whether it truly was the same place. Her body was still wrapped in the dusty rug on the floor, sleeping soundly. She seemed to hover above herself, disembodied and weightless, like a memory with no anchor.

  The center of the room caught her attention. The shallow circular dip in the stone floor stood out, more pronounced than it had seemed before.

  A faint vibration tingled through the air.

  Then a cube rose from the depression in the middle of the floor. It hovered an inch above the surface, as though held up by an invisible force.

  The cube pulsed with a brief flash of blue energy. A single blink of light that washed over Riley’s sleeping form and faded immediately, like a camera flash in a dark room.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  She felt something warm against her dream-skin. Gentle. Almost curious.

  Then everything went black.

  ***

  Riley woke with a sharp inhale, eyes wide, heart pounding so fast she felt dizzy. She stared at the ceiling for several long seconds before pushing herself upright. Sweat clung to her neck and forehead. Her hands trembled slightly.

  The dream slipped away in fragments. The beasts with their monstrous muscles. The pendant with its angry red slashes. The battlefield that felt too real. The flash of blue. And that cube. That alien cube.

  She rubbed her temples.

  What was that supposed to mean?

  Her stomach answered for her. It growled loud enough to echo off the stone walls. Riley winced and placed a hand over her abdomen.

  Right. Actual real-life problems first.

  Sunlight streamed gently through the narrow-barred windows high on the walls, revealing details she could only guess at last night. Now she could see far more clearly.

  A stone fireplace. Cold and empty.

  The rug she had slept in, rumpled and dusty.

  An overturned round table with its lone chair beside it.

  A wooden bucket sitting in the corner like it had been abandoned there years ago.

  And a dented old metal helmet with a chin strap that looked like it would snap if she breathed too hard.

  Riley stood slowly, stretching stiff muscles. Every part of her felt heavy, but hunger pushed her toward movement. She grabbed the bucket and the helmet.

  The door remained in place where she had shoved it, braced by the benches. It took some wriggling and effort to slide enough aside for her to squeeze through, but soon she stepped outside into the bright morning.

  The forest was quiet. Peaceful. No signs of the creature that had stalked the tower last night. No movement in the underbrush. Still, Riley stayed cautious, scanning every tree and patch of shadow as she made her way down toward the river.

  The walk was short. Sunlight glittered off the surface of the water, sending warm reflections dancing across the rocks and reeds. Riley knelt by the edge and dipped the bucket in, filling it until cold water sloshed over her fingers.

  Next to her, the ground was littered with sun-bleached branches and brittle sticks. She gathered a small pile to bring back later. As she worked, she noticed bushes nearby dotted with dark berries.

  She hesitated.

  They looked like blueberries.

  She plucked one and rolled it between her fingers. Sniffed it. Looked again. Her stomach grumbled insistently.

  She tasted it.

  Sweet. Tart. Familiar.

  Her body did not rebel. Encouraged, she ate several more and collected a handful, placing them into the helmet.

  A glint at the river’s edge caught her eye. A dark grey stone, smooth and glossy like glass. She picked it up.

  Flint, maybe?

  The stone slipped from her fingers. She cursed softly and watched it strike a larger rock on the ground. It shattered upon impact, splitting into several sharp, jagged pieces.

  Riley blinked, then crouched to gather the fragments. Their edges were finer than any pocketknife she had ever owned.

  Knives, she thought. Sort of.

  She placed the shards gently into the helmet alongside the berries.

  With water, berries, and sharp rocks in hand, she carried everything back to the tower and set it inside. Then she returned to gather an armful of dried branches, balancing them carefully against her hip.

  By the time she made it back, sweat clung to her forehead, and her stomach felt hollow, but she no longer felt on the brink of collapse.

  Riley sat on the floor and surveyed her small collection of survival materials. The bucket of water. The berries in the metal helmet. The pile of dried wood. The brittle grass she had gathered earlier.

  Not much, but it was something.

  She thought back to her childhood. She remembered how her parents had encouraged her to join that girls outdoor group. They claimed she needed fresh air and structure, but she had always suspected they wanted an hour or two to themselves on weekends. Her initial resentment had eventually softened, though, especially after she made friends.

  She remembered the lean-to she had helped build during one of the group’s team challenges. It had been lopsided, crooked, and structurally questionable. It collapsed once before standing long enough to pass the instructor’s inspection. She had been proud of it, for the ten minutes it lasted before falling over again.

  And her dad, years later, had tried to teach her how to build a fire during a camping trip. She remembered his patience, his terrible dad jokes, and the warmth of the finished flame. But she also remembered forgetting every step almost immediately after returning to the comforts of home.

  Riley swallowed and gazed at the fireplace.

  She needed a fire. For warmth. For boiling water. For any chance at comfort or safety.

  She whispered aloud, more to herself than anyone else.

  “Daylight is burning. Better get moving.”

  She gathered the dried grass and formed it into a rough nest on the stone floor. Then she arranged the tiniest sticks in the center. She found a flat, wide stick and placed it on the floor. Then she searched through the branches until she found a straight one that would serve as the spindle.

  Riley positioned the straight stick into the nest, placed its tip onto the flat piece of wood, and gripped it between her palms.

  She began rubbing her hands together, forcing the spindle to twist quickly. The friction was immediate. Heat built slowly, but her palms stung almost right away. Sweat made the stick slippery. Her arms shook with effort, but she refused to stop.

  She pushed harder.

  The spindle jerked. Her hands slipped. She repositioned them.

  Her shoulders ached.

  Her breathing quickened.

  She tried again.

  And again.

  No smoke. No ember. Not even a faint darkening of the wood.

  Only the rasp of wood against wood, the burn in her muscles, and the rising fear that she might not be able to do even this one simple thing.

  Her hands shook.

  She swallowed.

  She repositioned the spindle again.

  “Please,” she whispered to no one. “Please work.”

  Riley pressed her palms to the stick and rubbed with every ounce of energy she had left. Her arms strained. Her breath grew uneven. Her palms burned painfully.

  Still nothing.

  Not a wisp of smoke. Not a spark of warmth. Not even the promise of success.

  And as the sunlight drifted across the tower floor, Riley sat back on her heels, sweat beading on her forehead, heart pounding with exertion and desperation.

  Would she be able to start a fire?

  The answer was not clear.

  And the silence of the tower gave her nothing.

  She stared at the unlit pile of grass and sticks, sweat cooling on her skin, palms raw and useless.

  The silence pressed in, thick and mocking.

  Her gaze drifted, almost against her will, to the shallow circular dip in the center of the floor. She’d noticed it before and dismissed it as old damage, a place where something heavy had once sat.

  Now it looked… deliberate. She crawled over, still on her knees, brushing dust from the rim and scooping dirt out with her hands. The hollow was perfectly smooth and round, yet along its edge she saw faint notches, angled as if they might catch the corners of something. It was exactly the width of the little grey cube she’d found yesterday.

  Riley hesitated, then pulled the cube from the pocket she’d tied into her skirt. It was cool in her hand and heavier than it should be.

  She lined it up, uncertain, and let it fall in.

  It settled into the depression with a soft, final click, like a key sliding home.

  For one heartbeat, nothing.

  Then the floor beneath her palms thrummed, low and alive, and a single thread of blue light traced the depression’s edge before vanishing.

  Riley jerked her hand back, heart kicking again.

  The tower had just answered.