The next morning, Miyu woke up groggy, her limbs heavy, her dreams clinging like cobwebs. She could barely remember what she'd dreamt, only that it had been vivid—trees that whispered her name, shadows that moved just outside her vision, and golden eyes watching her from the darkness.
She pushed the thoughts aside and headed to school, her sketchbook tucked tightly under her arm like always.
The day passed in a quiet blur. Teachers droned, papers shuffled, and rain clouds rolled lazily over the sky. But through it all, Miyu felt… off. Like something was watching her. Waiting.
After the final bell, she didn't go to the library. She didn't meet Hana. She just walked home.
Her small room greeted her like an old friend. Everything was where she left it—orderly chaos of paper and ink. But the moment she closed the door behind her, she noticed it.
The sketchbook was open.
She was sure she'd closed it.
Miyu walked to the desk, frowning. The page showed the same moonlit forest she'd drawn the night before… but something was different.
There was a new tree. No—a figure.
A cloaked figure now stood behind the werewolf-like creatures. Tall, mysterious, almost regal in the way it loomed. She had not drawn that.
Her pencil lay beside the sketchbook. Still warm.
She swallowed hard. "Hana's right. I'm getting too deep into my own head."
She turned away, reaching for her water bottle, but—
Rustle.
A soft noise. Paper shifting.
Miyu turned sharply.
The sketchbook's pages were flipping again—slowly, one by one—until they stopped at the forest drawing.
And then… the drawing shimmered.
She blinked, rubbing her eyes. The shimmer was gone.
"What... was that?" she whispered.
Her hand hovered over the page.
For a moment, it felt like the air was pulling her in.
She snatched her hand back, heart pounding.
Something wasn't right. This wasn't just her imagination anymore. This was real—too real.
And for the first time in her life, Miyu was afraid of her art.
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