Felix exhaled deeply, resting his hands on his knees, heart pounding like a war drum in his chest. "Okay…" he muttered, eyes locked on the dark line of trees behind him, his brows furrowed so deep they nearly touched. "What the hell just happened?"
Still panting, he straightened up, rubbing his face repeatedly in an attempt to ground himself. The feel of his skin, the roughness of his stubble, the cool night air—it was all real. Solid. Tangible. And yet none of it helped make sense of what he'd just witnessed.
He pinched his arm sharply. Winced. Still here.
"This is not going to work," he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "What even was that?"
Whatever it had been—spirit, hallucination, warning—it wasn't normal. And he sure as hell didn't want to go through it alone. There was only one person he could talk to. Someone who, even if she didn't believe him, would at least listen.
