The singing didn't stop.
It curled under the door, a girl's voice sweet yet unsettling and repeating a haunting melody
"Where have you gone, my dear one…?"
Liam stood frozen in Mira's cottage, his breath quickening. Outside, the villagers went about their evening, blissfully unaware. The fifth chair at the table remained empty, and the spoon next to its bowl quivered slightly, as if an invisible hand had just set it down.
Then, the front door swung open on its own.
A cold gust rushed in, causing the fire to sputter.
At that very moment, the door to the dark hallway slammed shut with enough force to rattle the walls.
The singing stopped.
Silence.
Mira's father chuckled. "Wind's picking up," he said, casually spooning more stew into his mouth as if nothing was amiss.
Liam's hands trembled. His heart pounded in his ears.
Without uttering a word, he dashed for the open door, nearly tripping over his own feet. He didn't stop running until he reached his own cottage, where he slammed the door shut and barricaded it with a chair.
Liam woke up to the warm glow of sunlight. He hadn't intended to fall asleep, but exhaustion had pulled him under despite the fear coiling in his stomach.
Outside, birds chirped cheerfully. The village seemed perfectly normal.
Had it all been a fragment of his imagination?
Then he noticed them—four deep scratches on the inside of his door, as if something had tried to claw its way in during the night.
Knock* Knock*
A sudden knock made him jump.
It was Mira. Mira stood on his doorstep, an empty basket dangling from her arm. Dark circles shadowed her eyes. "You took off so quickly last night," she said, a frown creasing her brow. "Are you feeling okay?"
Liam opened his mouth to respond but then hesitated. What could he possibly say? Your house is haunted? There's a ghost sharing dinner with your family?
"Just... wasn't feeling great," he mumbled.
Mira reached out, her palm pressing against his forehead. Her skin felt like ice. "No fever," she said softly. Then, with a spark of enthusiasm"How about we go flower picking? The hills are bursting with bluebells this time of year."
Liam blinked in surprise. In all the memories he had borrowed, Mira had never ever suggested
going flower picking---
"Sure," he replied slowly. Then, cautiously suggested "Can we head to the far hill? The view is better from there."
Mira's smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "Perfect."
As they approached the hill, they noticed the climb was very steep, and Liam's legs had burned out, but he kept his eyes locked on the crumbling towers of the castle.
It's real. It has to be real. Liam thought
Next to Liam ,Mira hummed as she gathered flowers, her basket filling up with bluebells.
As they approached the castle. Suddenly, a wave of dizziness hit Liam like a punch. The world around him tilted, colors swirling together.
"Liam?" Mira's voice seemed to echo from a distance.
The last thing he saw before darkness enveloped him was the castle's gates swinging open.
Waiting.....
...
.
Liam came back to his senses—the scent of damp grass, the ache in his limbs, the cool evening breeze brushing against his skin.
"Liam? Liam, wake up!"
A rough hand gently patted his cheek. Liam groaned, squinting up at Aunty Hilda, the village midwife. Her wrinkled face was etched with worry, and her gray braid was coming undone from a long day's work.
"What were you thinking, lying out here alone?" she scolded, helping him sit up. "You're lucky I found you before nightfall!"
Liam's head throbbed. The last thing he remembered was—
"Mira," he croaked, rubbing his temples. "We were... picking flowers."
Aunty Hilda froze. "Mira?"
"Yes, Mira! She—" Liam's voice stopped as he scanned the hillside. It was empty except for a few scattered bluebells. "Where did she go?"
The old woman tightened her grip on his arm. "Liam, when I found you, you were alone. It seems You've been lying here for half the day."
A chill ran down Liam's spine. That couldn't be right. He had talked to Mira. Walked with her. Heard her humming as she picked flowers—
As he made his way back home, he could see the village gates in the distance. Liam's steps were shaky, his mind racing.
Then he spotted her. Mira stood by his cottage, her dress smudged with dirt. When she saw him, her face lit up with relief. "Liam!" She rushed over, grabbing his arms. "Where have you been? I've been searching everywhere!"
Liam was pulled back and he said "What? You were with me! We went to the hills—you suggested picking flowers—"
Mira's hands fell away. Her eyes—wide, confused, and genuinely scared—searched his face. "Liam... I haven't seen you since yesterday. You never came by this morning."
The ground felt like it was shifting beneath Liam's feet.
Behind Mira, near the blacksmith's stall, something caught his eye.
A woman stood there, watching them.
Her face was rough, skin stretched tight over sharp bones. And she was smiling—a grin so wide it looked almost painful, revealing every one of her yellowed teeth. Her dark, unblinking eyes were fixed directly on Liam.
As soon as he noticed her, the woman raised a finger to her lips in a slow, exaggerated shhh gesture.