She was running—barefoot through a dark forest.
Moonlight spilled between the twisted branches overhead, but it did nothing to warm the chill in her bones. The ground beneath her feet was damp, soft with moss and ash. The air was thick, heavy with the scent of something burning—something dying.
Ahead, she could hear voices—urgent, panicked—and the unmistakable sound of screams ripping through the night.
She pushed through brambles and low-hanging vines until she saw them: a woman in a black cloak, her hair flowing like ink, standing before two shadowy figures. The woman's voice trembled with desperation and terror.
"You must take them. Now. They can't stay together—it's too dangerous."
"But what if they remember?" one of the shadows said, his voice rough like gravel, barely audible over the howling behind them.
"They won't," the woman said, glancing over her shoulder at the darkness clawing closer. "But if he finds them—if he finds her—it's over."
More screams tore through the trees—agonized, broken.
The shadows exchanged a look, then nodded grimly.
The woman turned toward Iris—or was it someone else standing beside her? Her silver eyes locked onto Iris's own, wide with fear.
"Run," she whispered, her voice shaking. "Run far. Don't look back. No matter what you hear, no matter what you see—don't look back."
Iris opened her mouth to cry out, but a shadow swept toward them like a living storm. The woman shoved Iris and the other figure away—into the dark—and just as their fingers almost brushed—
Everything went white.
Everything screamed.
---
Iris jolted awake, gasping for air, heart pounding against her ribs like a drum.
Her sheets were tangled around her legs. Her skin was slick with cold sweat.
Instinctively, her hand flew to her chest—to the one thing that had always been there.
The amulet.
A small, ancient-looking pendant with swirling patterns carved into its dark surface, hanging from a delicate chain around her neck.
It was warm against her skin, almost pulsing.
Panting, Iris tightened her grip around it, drawing strength from its familiar weight. Only then did she scramble out of bed, her knees shaky, and stumble toward the bathroom.
The early morning light spilled weakly through the window, but the air felt wrong—still heavy with the fear from her nightmare.
She flipped on the light, squinting against the sudden brightness. And froze.
The girl staring back from the mirror wasn't the same girl who had gone to sleep last night.
Her hair.
Long, curly, and flowing past her shoulders—an unearthly shade of pure, shimmering white. Like spun moonlight. Like frost captured in silk.
She touched it with trembling fingers, tugging slightly. It didn't budge. No wigs. No tricks.
It was her.
Her hazel eyes—still hers. Her faint scar above her left brow—still there. But somehow... she looked different. Older. Wilder. Like something ancient was waking up inside her.
Her throat closed up.
Her heart hammered against her ribs.
The dream... the woman... the screaming...
"I'm going crazy," Iris whispered hoarsely to her reflection, clutching the amulet so hard her knuckles turned white.
Then a new scent filled the air—bacon, syrup, warm waffles.
She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply, grounding herself.
Right. It's my birthday. I'm still here. I'm still me.
Shoving down the roiling fear in her chest, Iris threw on a hoodie—yanking the hood low over her strange, glowing hair—and headed downstairs.
---
"Surprise!"
Ethan and Evelyn came bounding toward her, laughter lighting up their small faces.
"Happy birthday, Iris!" Ethan shouted, waving a glittery handmade card.
Evelyn tugged at her hoodie, squealing when a lock of white hair slipped free. "Your hair! You're like Elsa!"
Despite everything, Iris laughed—a small, shaky sound. "Yeah, I guess I had a magical makeover overnight."
Her parents stood by the stove, smiling. Her dad gave her a mock salute with the spatula. "Our girl's all grown up."
Her mum wiped her hands on a towel, her gaze softer but tinged with something almost... worried. She pressed a kiss to Iris's temple. "Eighteen," she said. "How do you feel?"
Iris hesitated. She wanted to say "terrified."
Instead, she just smiled faintly. "Hungry."
They all sat down to a feast of waffles and strawberries, whipped cream piled high. For a moment, she let herself pretend everything was normal.
But when she caught her mum staring at her—really staring, as if seeing something no one else could—her stomach twisted.
After breakfast, Iris grabbed her school bag and her helmet. "I'll be back by three."
Her mum nodded, voice low. "Be safe, sweetheart. And when you come home... we need to talk."
Something cold skittered down Iris's spine. But she forced a smile. "Okay."
As the front door clicked shut behind her, her mum turned to her dad, her voice trembling.
"She's waking up," she whispered. "And he'll be coming for her."
---
Outside, the air was crisp, almost too sharp against her skin. Waiting near the sidewalk were Oliver and Rayan—both grinning, both clueless.
The second they saw her, their grins faltered.
Oliver stared. "Whoa."
Rayan's jaw practically hit the ground. "Okay, okay, if this is some edgy birthday prank, I'm obsessed."
Iris sighed, pushing back her hood.
"No prank," she muttered. "I woke up like this."
Oliver squinted. "Did you... dye it in your sleep?"
"Nope." She twirled a lock of her hair. It shimmered under the sunlight. "Magic makeover, apparently."
Rayan leaned closer. "It's literally glowing. Dude, that's sick."
Iris shrugged, trying to mask the gnawing anxiety in her gut. "Guess I'm just embracing my inner snow queen."
They laughed, but Oliver's smile faded into something more serious. "Are you okay though? Really?"
She hesitated.
The memory of the dream—the woman's urgent warning—the screams—pressed against her chest.
"I... don't know," Iris whispered. "But something's coming. I can feel it."
Rayan tried to lighten the mood. "Well, if it's something crazy, at least you've got backup." He threw an arm around her shoulder.
Oliver smiled softly. "Always."
As they rode toward school, the wind whipped through Iris's white hair, tossing it like a living flame.
And deep in the forgotten woods beyond the town's edge, where even light dared not tread, silver eyes snapped open once again.
"It has begun"