Sorrel had agreed to the blind date mostly to stop her best friend from hovering. "You need to get out," Mara had insisted. "You're twenty‑one, you're gorgeous, and you can't keep hiding in your apartment like a cryptid." So Sorrel had sighed, put on mascara, and told herself one dinner wouldn't kill her.
She hadn't expected the night to end with her running for her life.
The drive out of town had been pleasant enough at first. Evan talked easily, laughed loudly, and seemed genuinely interested in her job at the café. He'd held the door for her at the restaurant, complimented her dress, and asked thoughtful questions. Mara had sworn he was "sweet, respectful, a total gentleman," and Sorrel had almost believed it.
Almost.
But now, as his car rolled to a stop at the edge of a secluded overlook, unease prickled along her spine. The woods stretched out in a dark, endless line beyond the drop, the treetops shifting like a single living creature. The moon hung low, casting silver light over the clearing. It was beautiful, yes—but also too quiet. Too still.
"This spot's perfect, right?" Evan flashed a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Figured we could talk without all the noise."
Talk. Right.
Sorrel forced a polite smile, smoothing her hands over her jeans. "It's… nice. Quiet."
"Exactly." He leaned back in his seat, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. "You're tense. You don't have to be."
She didn't answer. She didn't trust her voice not to betray the unease tightening her chest.
The soft click of the locks sliding into place made her flinch.
Evan didn't seem to notice. Or maybe he did. His smile sharpened.
"So," he said, shifting closer, "how about we pick up where dinner left off?"
Before she could respond, he leaned across the console and brushed a light kiss against her mouth. It was fine—unexpected, but fine. She'd been kissed before. She could handle this.
But then his hand slid to the back of her neck, holding her in place as he pressed in harder. The kiss changed—insistent, claiming, wrong. His weight shifted toward her side of the car, crowding her against the door.
"Evan," she murmured, trying to pull back. "Slow down."
He didn't.
Instead, he braced an arm beside her head, blocking her in. His other hand drifted somewhere she didn't want it to be, his breath hot against her cheek.
"Relax," he said softly. "We're alone. No one's around."
That was exactly what terrified her.
Sorrel's pulse hammered. She pushed at his shoulder, but he barely budged. Panic clawed up her throat—sharp, breathless, electric.
"I said stop."
He didn't.
His grip tightened.
Something inside her snapped.
A surge of instinct—fear, fury, something older—rushed through her veins. She twisted, wrenching her wrist free, and slammed her shoulder into the door. The lock clicked open with a sound that felt almost… intentional.
She didn't question it.
She shoved the door wide and stumbled out into the cold night air.
"Hey!" Evan barked behind her. "Get back here!"
Sorrel didn't look back. She ran.
Gravel bit into her shoes as she sprinted across the overlook, the wind tearing at her hair. The treeline loomed ahead, dark and silent, the Veilwood's shadow stretching like a warning—or an invitation.
Her lungs burned. Her legs shook. Evan's footsteps pounded behind her.
She didn't think. She didn't choose. She just ran toward the only place he couldn't follow.
The forest.
The Veilwood.
Everyone knew the stories. No one who entered came back.
But Sorrel's fear drowned out every warning she'd ever heard.
As she neared the treeline, the air changed—colder, sharper, humming with something ancient. The shadows rippled. The wind stilled. The world held its breath.
A faint glow pulsed beneath her skin, like a heartbeat that wasn't hers.
"What—?" she gasped, stumbling.
The ground beneath her feet vibrated, a low thrumming that traveled up her legs and settled in her chest. The trees ahead shimmered, their outlines blurring like heat haze. The air thickened, charged with something electric.
Behind her, Evan shouted her name.
Sorrel pushed harder.
The boundary shimmered.
Cracked.
Opened.
Just for her.
A thin line of silver light split the darkness, widening as she approached. It wasn't a door. It wasn't a path. It was… awareness. A presence. A mind older than kingdoms, watching her with something like curiosity.
Her skin prickled. Her breath hitched. The glow beneath her ribs pulsed again, stronger this time, answering the forest's call.
She didn't understand it. She didn't need to.
She crossed the threshold in a single desperate leap—
—and the world changed.
The air inside the Veilwood was colder, but not unpleasant. Crisp, like the first breath of winter. The ground beneath her feet softened, moss cushioning her steps. The trees towered impossibly high, their trunks wide enough to swallow houses, their leaves glowing faintly with bioluminescent veins.
Behind her, the boundary snapped shut with a sound like a sigh and a warning intertwined.
Evan's voice vanished. The night shifted. The Veilwood woke.
Sorrel stumbled to a stop, chest heaving, heart pounding. The glow beneath her skin dimmed, settling into a low, steady thrum. She pressed a hand to her sternum, half expecting to feel heat or light. But there was nothing. Just her own racing heartbeat.
"What is happening?" she whispered.
The forest didn't answer.
But it listened.
The silence was too complete, too intentional. No insects. No wind. No rustling leaves. Just the soft hum of magic in the air, vibrating like a distant chord.
Sorrel turned slowly, trying to orient herself. The boundary was gone—no shimmer, no crack, no sign of the world she'd left behind. Only endless trees stretching into darkness.
Panic fluttered in her chest again, but it was different now. Sharper. Clearer. The fear that had driven her here was fading, replaced by something steadier. Something… anchored.
She took a shaky breath.
"Okay," she murmured. "Okay. You're alive. You're safe. You just need to—"
A branch snapped somewhere behind her.
Sorrel froze.
Another sound followed—a low, resonant rumble, like distant thunder rolling through the trees.
Her pulse spiked.
"Hello?" she whispered, though she wasn't sure she wanted an answer.
The forest exhaled.
Not wind. Not breath. Something else. Something aware.
The glow beneath her skin flared again, faint but undeniable.
The Veilwood had opened for her. And now it was watching.
Sorrel swallowed hard, squared her shoulders, and took her first step deeper into the forest.
Whatever waited for her in the dark, she had already crossed the point of no return.
The night she fled a bad date, the forest chose her.
And nothing would ever be the same.