The air was thick with the scent of moss and rain as Sarah stepped into the world she had painted the night before—a secluded glade framed by towering cliffs and cascading waterfalls. The sound of rushing water roared in her ears, a stark contrast to the stillness of the verdant forest floor.

She ran her fingers over the damp bark of a tree, marveling at how real this place felt. Every detail, from the silvery mist to the glistening rocks, was just as she had envisioned it on the canvas. But something was different. She was not alone.

A figure moved near the base of the largest waterfall, their silhouette half-obscured by the shimmering veil of water. They were crouched, examining something in the stream with an intense focus. Sarah froze, instinctively tightening her grip on the brush tucked into her belt. She hadn’t painted anyone here.

The figure turned, sensing her presence. Their gaze met hers, curious rather than alarmed. They rose slowly, water droplets clinging to their clothes, their features softened by the mist. "You found this place too," they said, their voice calm but tinged with surprise.

Sarah hesitated, her pulse quickening. How could they be here? Was this a flaw in her creation, or something far stranger? She stepped closer, her boots sinking into the soft earth.

“This place…” she began, her voice firm yet uncertain.

They smiled faintly. "It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Almost as if it were painted into existence." Their words sent a chill through her, a strange sense of familiarity blooming in her chest.