Buzzing. My head was buzzing when I opened my eyes.

The ceiling arched above me in glass and iron, lanterns glowing with no fire at all. The air pulsed with sound—hissing engines, whistles, footsteps echoing like a heartbeat. For a moment, I thought I was dreaming. Until I saw the sign.

Everlasting Land Station.

My chest tightened. I knew this place. I wrote it.

I scrambled up, eyes darting across the platform. Pig-headed ladies in velvet gowns whispered behind painted fans. A frog-skinned salesman waddled by, balancing baskets of glowing fruit that dripped silver nectar. A tall, thin man with owl feathers instead of hair sneezed loudly, scattering plumage into the air. A group of children with brass wings clinked and rattled as they darted between legs, their laughter ringing like bells.

"This isn't real," I whispered.

"It's real enough," came the voice beside me.

I spun around. Nilly leaned casually against the ticket booth, her red hair tied in a messy bun, strands falling over her forehead. She smiled, bright-eyed and calm, as if my panic was only mildly entertaining.

"Nilly..." My voice trembled.

"Finally!" she said, pushing herself away from the booth. "You're awake. Good. Thought you'd faint again, and trust me, carrying you through this place. Not fun."

She motioned for me to follow, and I did, legs stiff with disbelief. The trains loomed in every direction, their doors shimmering with runes that shifted like rivers of ink. Passengers clutched glowing tickets before vanishing into steam.

"This place... I made it up," I whispered. "I wrote all this. You. The station. You're not supposed to be—"

"Please don't overthink it." Her tone softened, steady. "We exist. Always have. Some humans are born with souls that open doors. You're one of them."

From her pocket, she pulled a ticket and placed it into my palm.

Sender: Nouran. Receiver: Nouran.

Before I could ask again, the doors of a waiting train hissed open. Nilly nudged me forward, and together we stepped inside.

The air was cooler, thick with the faint hum of magic. Seats lined the walls, but the windows showed nothing—only shifting clouds and flickers of landscapes that weren't there.

I glanced at her nervously. "If you're here... that means the rest are here too, right?"

Nilly smiled slowly, tilting her head. "Oh, they're here. And after what you wrote—" she lifted her fingers into mocking air quotes—"the seven tarot cards? Yeah. They're pissed. Honestly, it just kept getting worse."

Heat rushed to my face. "I'm not that bad of a writer. I'm kinda good... I think." My voice faltered, and I looked away, remembering the mess I had written for each of them.

Nilly chuckled and tapped my shoulder lightly. "Don't worry. Every writer believes they're not good."

I braced myself, expecting her to follow with something encouraging. But instead, she leaned back with a thoughtful expression and added, "To be honest, it was just fucked-up stories. Even ours is strange. Like, why animal-headed people? Or why the train throws passengers out of the sky into their potential future?" She smirked. "And don't even get me started on what you wrote for Farah... I mean, that was—"

"Okay, okay, I got it," I cut her off quickly, cheeks burning. "My subconscious is not a big fan of me, clearly."

Her smile faded into something more serious. "About that... why is your subconscious a middle-aged man with a huge belly who just sits around drinking tea all the time?"

I let out a long sigh. "I don't know. But if I created all of this crap, it's kind of expected that I'd have an even weirder subconscious."

Nilly nodded solemnly, and said. "Fair point."

The train rattled as if it were alive, the windows flickering with storm clouds, oceans, and deserts that shifted with every blink. I sat stiffly, clutching the glowing ticket in my hands.

Nilly leaned back in her seat, casual as always, her bunny-smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Alright, here's the deal. We're making five stops. Your subconscious—" she drew out the word like it was a bad taste—"chose them for you."

My head snapped up. "Wait. He did?"

"Yes," she said with an amused look. "So, do you ever call this weird subconscious of yours by name, or do I have to keep saying 'that guy' forever?"

I exhaled, pinching the bridge of my nose. "I named him Al-Borai."

Nilly froze, then burst into laughter. "Really?"

I gave her the flattest deadpan look I could muster. "He looks like a desperate man. What do you expect me to call him, Louis?"

Wiping a tear from her eye, she leaned back again. "Alright, fine. Al-Borai it is. Anyways, the five stops—those are your potential futures. He wants you to let go of your overthinking for once and just... live them."

I sighed, staring at the glowing runes above the door. "Easier said than done." My legs shook as I pushed myself up, walking toward the door.

The train hissed, slowing. Steam curled through the cracks as the runes blazed brighter.

My palms were slick. "Why did I write the landing like this?" My voice was high and nervous. "Why did I think jumping from the sky was a good idea?"

Nilly leaned against the wall, still wearing that calm smile. "Good luck, Nouran."

The door hissed open, and wind rushed in. My heart hammered, my stomach twisted, but I had no choice. I stepped forward, and before I could second-guess myself—

I jumped.

A scream tore from my throat as the air swallowed me, rushing past in a blur of clouds and light.

Behind me, the train doors shut.

Nilly's pocket buzzed. With an irritated groan, she pulled out a sleek, rune-carved phone and answered. "Yeah?"

A sharp voice snapped on the other end. "Don't let her jump!"

Nilly frowned. "Why not?"

"Because she isn't jumping into her future. She's jumping into the Awakening."

For the first time, Nilly's smile faltered. "Oh, fuck no." She slammed the phone shut, dragging her hand down her face.

Her gaze flicked to where I had fallen, vanishing into clouds below. Nilly winced. "Oh, shit. She's meeting Nadine." She groaned, pressing her palm to her forehead.

"And Nadine is fucking pissed."

The impact rattled every bone in my body. I hit the earth face-first, groaning as pain shot through my ribs. Dirt clung to my lips. For a moment I stayed still, trying to catch my breath, before forcing myself up onto shaky knees.

Around me stretched a lush, endless green—the sound of the Nile lapping softly against the shore. Palms swayed, flowers glowed faintly in the shade, and the heavy perfume of blooming jasmine made my head spin.

I blinked, my heart sinking. I knew this place.

The Botanical Island.

But not just any version of it. This wasn't my future. No—this was straight out of the last chapter of The Awakening.

"What the...?" I whispered, brushing dirt from my face.

I opened my mouth to say more when another voice cut through the air.

"So you're the one who wrote all that shit?"

My stomach dropped. I knew that voice. My blood turned cold.

I turned, bracing myself for Nadine. But instead—

"Camellia?"

She stood among the tall reeds, arms folded, eyes sharp as knives. The sun gilded her hair in gold, her presence as unshakable as the land beneath us.

I frowned, confused. "Wait... I'm supposed to be meeting Nadine. This is her scene." I glanced around, trying to make sense of the shift. "This doesn't add up."

Camellia took in a long breath, her gaze never leaving me. "I wanted to meet you first."

I forced a nervous smile. "Hey, Cami. You, uh... look great."

Her eyes narrowed, her expression cutting through my weak attempt. "Truly? What the hell were you thinking when you wrote my novella?"

My throat went dry. I swallowed hard, words tumbling uselessly. "Well... uhm... I wanted to create a strong story with mystery, and, uh..."

"The more you write, the more shit happens!" Camellia snapped, running a hand through her hair in frustration. Her voice cracked with the weight of it. "What the hell happened to you, Nouran? For you to put that much darkness in the books?"

I tried to laugh, but it came out strained. My eyes flicked around the dazzling, dreamlike greenery, desperate for an escape. "Honestly? I'm actually very happy in my life. Just... you know, I have the talent of writing."

Camellia let out a sharp snort, almost a bitter laugh. "Happy? This—" she gestured around, her hands trembling, "—this much misery, betrayal, and tragedy, and you're telling me you're happy? No wonder your subconscious threw you away."

Camellia walked ahead, her steps hard against the stone path. I trailed behind in silence, the sweet perfume of jasmine feeling almost suffocating now. On the right side of the garden rose an old sandstone building, shaded by palms. Its carved windows spilled golden light onto the path.

Camellia stopped at the doorway and turned to me. Her gaze burned, words unspoken but heavy. Without a sound, she gave me one last, sharp look before stepping aside and leaving me there alone.

I swallowed nervously and walked inside.

The air shifted immediately—cool, thick, and hushed. I followed the hall until it opened into a room where a couch rested against the far wall. Nadine lay stretched across it, her posture calm, her presence commanding. She wasn't asleep as I expected. No—she was awake, and waiting.

Her eyes flicked toward me. "Sit."

I obeyed, perching on the edge of a chair, my hands twisting in my lap. My chest squeezed with nerves.

"I know," Nadine said, her tone sharp but oddly measured. "I'm pissed. But not as much as the rest of them. At least I got the lowest share of... shit moments."

I forced a weak smile. "Well... the story starts with you."

Her expression hardened. Slowly, she sat up, leaning forward, her eyes narrowing. "I'm not a big fan of the ending, though."

My smile faltered. "Uh—sorry about that. It's just... serving the plot, you know?"

Nadine tilted her head, lips curving into something between amusement and disdain. "I like how you actually believe you have control over the story."

My brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Her smile vanished. The air grew heavy. "When it's the other way around."

I tried to move, but my body stiffened, glued to the chair. Panic surged in my chest. The corners of the room darkened, shadows seeping from the walls, spreading like ink in water. They slithered upward, dripping from the ceiling, crawling across the floor.

"No—" I gasped, but the sound barely left my throat. The darkness closed in, swallowing the air, the light—everything. My body trembled violently, and then a sudden, searing pain erupted in my eye, sharp and unrelenting. My scream caught, never leaving my lips, as the shadows devoured me whole.

The train swayed gently, its windows still flickering with endless skies. Nilly sat with her boots on the seat across from her, flipping idly through Nouran's glowing ticket when her phone buzzed again.

She sighed, flipping it open. "What now?"

The voice on the other end wasn't calm. It was Al-Borai, booming with panic.

"She's gone!" he screamed, his voice cracking. "Nouran is gone into the shadows!"

Nilly shot upright, her relaxed mask dropping in an instant. "What do you mean gone?!"

"I told you this would happen!" Al-Borai's voice broke with fury and fear. "The shadows swallowed her. That means—" his breath caught, "—that means only one thing."

Nilly's face drained of color. She knew.

"All stories after The Awakening... are shifting," Al-Borai said. "They're twisting into something darker."

The train rattled violently, lights flickering overhead. Nilly closed the phone with trembling hands, her usual smile nowhere to be found.

"Shit," she whispered to herself. "This just got very, very bad."