You raise the gun. It’s heavy. You take aim, place your finger on the trigger, and…

Like the others around you, you cannot move. Only she moves, long, dark hair blowing in a breeze that exists just for her.

No. Again, that voice in your mind. Like velvet on skin. You don’t hear her voice, you feel it. Like it’s tangible. Like you could wrap yourself in it and feel safe forever.

NO! The other shouts. And this voice feels like broken glass. As though, if you were to listen long enough, she would cut your mind to pieces with her words.

The woman before you stops, a startled look on her face. Like she knows what you were just thinking.

You see, mother? her voice says, still grating, but much softer. I was right. The Lost are here. I have found so many, but none were strong enough.

The Mother looks at you. You are confused, afraid. This cannot be. But, somehow, it all feels familiar.

Yes, my daughter, The Mother says. You may be right.

I am. I’ll prove it.

She takes you…