Cottonwell felt like a place caught between a dream and waking — cozy little houses with rounded doors, smoke drifting from chimneys, and gardens bursting with herbs and wildflowers. The narrow cobblestone paths twisted between cottages, and everywhere, rabbits moved about their day — chatting softly on doorsteps, tending plants, or chasing each other with carefree laughter.

There was a calm to it all, but beneath that calm, I felt something unspoken — like the quiet before a storm, or a secret too big to say out loud.

A soft voice broke through my thoughts.

“Sebastian?”

I looked down to see a small gray rabbit with a shy smile. “Miri,” she said, brushing a stray strand of fur behind her ear. “Could you help me pick some wild berries? They grow just past the village, but the bushes get tangled and tricky.”

I nodded, grateful for the chance to move, to do something simple.

We stepped outside the village’s neat gardens and into the wilder edge of the forest. The air was cooler here, thick with the smell of pine and damp earth. The bushes grew thick, branches snagging at our clothes, bright berries glinting like tiny jewels among the leaves.

“Just over there,” Miri said, pointing to a dense patch of brambles. “But watch your step. The woods don’t always play nice.”

I pushed through the branches carefully, feeling the rough bark scratch my arms. My fingers closed around the ripe berries, their skin cool and smooth.

Miri’s hand brushed mine as she reached for a cluster nearby. The touch was brief, but steady, grounding me somehow.

“Got it,” she whispered with a small smile.

We filled our baskets slowly, the quiet between us stretching comfortable and easy. For a little while, the forest wasn’t strange or threatening. It felt like home.

We worked quickly, filling the baskets just as the sky began to shift. The sun was dipping low now, casting long shadows through the trees, turning everything a soft amber.

“Looks like we should head back,” Miri said, glancing up at the darkening sky. “It gets tricky to find the way once the stars come out.”

I nodded, tucking a stray branch out of my path. The forest suddenly felt quieter — like it was holding its breath.

As we turned to leave, the rustle of leaves and distant calls of night birds reminded me how far we’d wandered from Cottonwell.

Miri quickened her pace, but I felt the weight of unease settle in my chest. The woods seemed different now — less welcoming.

“We’re almost there,” she said, but I wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince me, or herself.

The path back twisted and narrowed. Every snap of a twig sounded loud in the stillness.

Finally, the soft glow of lanterns from the village peeked through the trees. Relief flooded me.

“Home,” I whispered, the word feeling strange and fragile on my lips.

Miri smiled, her eyes reflecting the fading light. “Yeah. Home.”

But then—something caught my eye.

A thick column of black smoke twisted up into the darkening sky, rising from the heart of Cottonwell.

“Smoke?” I said, voice tight.

Miri’s smile faltered. “That’s not good.”

We exchanged a quick glance, both of us knowing that whatever was waiting for us back there, the village was no longer the peaceful place we left.

The night was coming fast.

We broke into a run, the path beneath us blurring as the smoke thickened. The sweet scent of burning wood mixed with the sharp sting of panic.

When we burst through the trees, my breath caught in my throat.

Cottonwell was burning.

Flames clawed at the rooftops, black smoke swirling into the sky like a storm. Rabbits scrambled everywhere, their frightened voices sharp and urgent.

Then I saw them — riders on horseback, charging through the village. They moved with ruthless purpose, shouting in a language I couldn’t understand — sharp, harsh sounds that cut through the chaos like knives.

Nick’s eyes narrowed. “Those aren’t rabbits.”

I grabbed a nearby rabbit who was frozen in fear. “Who are they?”

He shook his head, trembling. “I don’t know... but they’re not friendly.”

The riders smashed through carts and stalls, their horses pawing the ground, hooves pounding like thunder.

“Help!” a rabbit cried as one horseman grabbed a bundle of crops and threw it into the fire.

My heart hammered. This was an attack — and we were completely unprepared.

“Nick, what do we do?” I asked, voice tight.

He didn’t answer right away. His eyes scanned the burning village, calculating.

“They’re after something,” he finally said. “We have to get the others to safety.”

Behind us, the village screamed in flames, and I realized just how fragile this peace had been.

Nick didn’t hesitate. His voice rang out, clear and urgent. “Scatter! Head for the woods!”

The rabbits froze for a moment, panic flickering in their eyes. Then, at Nick’s command, they darted in all directions, disappearing into the trees.

I stood rooted, heart pounding as riders on horseback thundered into the village, shouting in a language I couldn’t understand — sharp, guttural sounds that made my skin crawl.

Flames licked the rooftops, smoke curling into the darkening sky. The villagers ran, some carrying what little they could, others just fleeing with bare feet.

Nick moved like lightning, herding the rabbits toward safety. His emerald eyes burned with fierce determination as he guided them through secret paths only he knew.

I wanted to help, but something kept me frozen — helpless.

The riders swept toward me, their horses’ hooves pounding like thunder on the earth. The harsh cries filled the air, sharp and alien — a language I couldn’t understand, but it carried a clear threat.

The village behind me burned fiercely, flames licking at the sky. The place I’d only just started to feel part of was collapsing into chaos.

Nick shouted urgently from the edge of the woods, herding the rabbits to safety, but I was left exposed, frozen in the middle of the path.

The riders reined in their horses, surrounding me like predators closing in. Their eyes cold, unreadable.

Smoke thickened around us, choking the air.

My heart hammered in my chest. There was no one else here to help.

Nick’s voice cut through the chaos, fierce and commanding, “Sebastian! Move! Now!”

But the riders were already closing in.

And in that moment, I realized—tomorrow’s reckoning had come for me.

The sword sliced through the air, aimed straight at my throat. Time slowed, the blade inching closer—closer—

And then, everything stopped.

The world froze like a paused scene in a play. The roaring horses, the screams, even the crackling flames—all silenced.

I blinked, heart pounding, but my body felt trapped, locked inside an invisible box. I couldn’t move a muscle, couldn’t even blink properly.

Before me, glowing letters materialized in the air—sharp, clear, impossible to ignore.

You have not met the conditions yet.

Continue? (yes/yes)

Panic surged through me. What conditions? What choice did I have? My mind screamed for an answer, but none came. Desperation took hold.

Without thinking, I nodded—or maybe I just willed it to happen. The word “YES” echoed in my mind.

The moment I chose, the frozen world snapped back.

The blade plunged forward, cold and unforgiving, cutting through the air and—

Pain exploded in my throat, then darkness swallowed me whole.