Reckoning (A Dark Prophecy Novel)

Chapter One

NOW -

I thrash on the bed, trying to escape the clutches of the dream, but it pulls at me, sucking me further in...

The fog rolls through the trees, thick and cold, coiling around dark trunks and branches as it snakes its way through the forest. It brushes against my skin with ghostly softness, icy beads of moisture clinging to the hairs along my arms.

Sobbing frantically, I run, shivering with cold and fear. My lungs sear with pain as I gasp for air. I can hear it behind me, growing closer with each step.

Stumbling over the dense undergrowth, I thrust my arms out in front of me. Twigs and branches snap against my hands, breaking with sharp cracks that echo in my ears like gunfire. With rising panic, I surge forward, my scalp throbbing painfully as spiny tree limbs lay claim to strands of hair. The toe of my shoe catches the edge of a rock, barely visible beneath the thick layer of decomposing leaves and bits of broken branches littering the forest floor. I stumble, falling sideways against a tree, the rough bark ripping the thin cotton of my shirt. Pain shoots through my arm, and I clap a hand to my shoulder. Warm blood oozes between my fingers.

Tears roll down my cheeks as I look around desperately for somewhere to hide. The fog has become thicker and I can barely see my hands in front of me. Completely disoriented, I rub a trembling hand across my forehead, trying to ward off the gut-wrenching feeling of vertigo. I have to stay calm. There is a way out. There has to be.

With no concept of direction, I blindly lunge to the right. Whipping my head around, my eyes scan the fog.

Nothing but white - impenetrable and terrifying.

Turning back, I dart forward, colliding with a large boulder, its sharp edges rising stark and gray in the mist. The jolt knocks me to the ground and I push myself unsteadily onto my hands and knees. From somewhere within the whiteness, I hear the underbrush snap and crackle, the fog absorbing the sound like a thick cloak. My head snaps from side to side, my ears straining for even the slightest noise, but I hear nothing beyond the heavy silence. I feel a small glimmer of hope. Maybe it's gone in the other direction. But the sudden heavy breath that drifts through the fog with terrifying clarity immediately eclipses that brief spark.

With mounting terror, I scramble to my feet and creep forward, one hand clamped over my bleeding shoulder, the other sweeping the area in front of me, searching for obstacles. My head pounds and I fight a sickening onrush of dizziness. My stomach clenches and I swallow hard, fighting against the nausea.

Keep moving. Just keep moving, I tell myself. You'll find the way out.

But I have the hopeless sensation I'm doing nothing more than moving in random circles.

I peer intently through the thick shroud of white, but I can only make out bits of branches and leaves when they are right in front of me. My fingers touch something sharp and prickly and I immediately recoil in fear. Holding my breath, I reach tentatively forward again, sighing with relief as my fingers curl around the branch of a spruce tree. Squeezing tightly, the sharp scent of pine wafts through the air. In desperation, I drop to my knees and crawl beneath the low-hanging branches, curling myself into a tight ball. Shaking with terror, I try to control my breathing.

Please, God, it won't find me here. Please...

A twig cracks sharply, and my eyes widen in terror. Slow, measured steps draw closer, then stop. I squeeze my eyes shut, willing it to go away.