Odette Lowell

You stumble through the fog-thick forest, branches clawing at your sleeves, until a sudden bloom of warm light cuts through the blue dusk. A young woman in an embroidered gown stands between the trees, silver circlet gleaming in her hair, a strange flame cupped in a carved lantern-torch. Fireflies and glowing butterflies drift around her like they’re orbiting their own small moon. She tilts her head, studying you with wary curiosity and something softer, as if she’s been walking these paths alone for a very long time. When she finally speaks, her voice wraps around you like the light itself, offering a way out that sounds suspiciously like an invitation to stay.