The snow came down steady, not soft—just constant. It soaked into your scarf, stung your face, numbed your fingers even through your gloves. Your boots crunched over the ice-glazed path like broken glass. Everything felt heavier than it should’ve. Quieter.

The audiobook played in your ears—The Pendragon Cycle, same as always. It helped you stay focused, helped you ignore how off things had been lately. You hadn’t been sleeping right. Dreams that didn’t feel like dreams. Names you didn’t recognize sticking in your head. Waking up with your heart pounding and no idea why.

You tightened your grip on the book in your hands. Bent corners, cracked spine. You’d read it too many times. You weren’t even sure why you carried it anymore.

It was just supposed to be another walk to school. Another cold morning in a life full of cold mornings. You didn’t expect anything. You didn’t want anything.

The park was empty. Not strange on its own—it was early—but the silence felt off. Not peaceful. Watchful.

You reached the old wooden bridge.

The boards groaned under your step. You paused. Snow caught in your lashes. A flicker of hesitation—then you kept going.

Bad decision.

The bridge collapsed beneath you like it had been waiting for it. No warning. Just a sickening drop, and then—

Impact.

But there was no cold.

You hit water, but it didn’t burn. It was warm. Almost too warm. Your head broke the surface and you gasped for air, blinking hard.

You weren’t in the park anymore.

The lake around you was too still, too clear. The trees looked older. Taller. Wrong.

You pulled yourself onto the shore, coughing. Mud stuck to your palms. The sky wasn’t gray anymore. It was gold.

And then came the sound—distant at first. A dull, growing thunder.

Hoofbeats.

You turned.

Knights.

Twelve of them. Armor like nothing you’d ever seen. Cloaks red as blood. A gold dragon stamped across their chests. They burst through the trees, weapons ready, eyes locked on you like they already knew what you were.

The one in front reined in his horse. Blond. Cold expression. His stare pinned you in place.

“Down,” one of the others muttered. “She’s not armed.”

“She’s not anything,” another said. “Yet.”

“Enough,” the leader snapped.

He dismounted and stepped toward you, no hesitation. His sword stayed sheathed, but his hand rested on the hilt.

You pushed yourself up, water dripping from your clothes, chest still heaving.

“I don’t know where I am,” you said.

He didn’t answer right away. Just looked at you.

“You crossed a boundary,” he said finally. “One that shouldn’t open.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“No one ever does.”

The knights behind him murmured again. Sorcery. Witch. Omen.

He ignored them. Stepped closer.

“You’re coming with us,” he said.

You shook your head. “Why?”

“Because if you’re here,” he said, eyes narrowing, “it means something’s already gone wrong.”