Here I am again, running through the woods. The mud squelches around my bare feet as I run like hell in my scarlet ball gown. As I look back, I see a dark figure chasing me—a tall, lanky, shadowy figure with white eyes and long, sharp fingers. I dodge the trees as I dash past them, hoping that “thing” doesn’t catch up. I’m exhausted and can’t breathe; I need to stop. The more I run, the harder it is to breathe, but I can't stop; this “thing” still follows me. I look back to see nothing but the trees and the night above me. I deem it safe enough to stop and catch my breath. I collapse on my knees; my legs feel like nothing under my weight, and my lungs are on fire, telling me to breathe, but no matter how much air fills them, they still quiver and shake, begging for more.

“You don’t belong here,” it whispers. Suddenly, I feel a sharp burning sensation across my back. I touch the wet, burning wound on my back. Blood. Looking back again, I see pitch black where there should be trees. “GET OUT,” it grabs my ankles and pulls, scratching my legs to shreds as it drags me closer to my castle. I thrash, mud splashing into my face and smearing itself into my beautiful red dress. It traveled quicker and quicker. My violent thrashing increased as it approached the edge of the woods. “LET ME GO!” I screamed. It didn’t stop for me. “STAY OUT,” It threw me out of the forest with such force. I tumbled down the hill. I was so exhausted. I couldn’t move; I couldn’t think. Everything in my head was a swirl of thoughts. What was that? Why was it in the forest? Why did it chase me? But before I could comprehend an answer, everything turned pitch black.

I wake up panting in a cold sweat. The blankets around me are moist with sweat as I push them off of me. I stand up, shaken. “Just another nightmare,” I say, hoping to reassure myself, but no luck. As I walk to the bathroom, my body feels greatly fatigued, as though I have run a marathon.

“Ow,” I complain as I splash cold water on my face. My hands feel… chalky? Why would they feel chalky? I light a candle before looking in the mirror in an attempt to find the culprit causing me to feel so off. I stare at myself, and to my horror, I see my pale skin splattered with mud. My hands are covered in blood and dried mud. “Was it a dream..?” My back burns so badly that I feel like someone put me on a stake and attempted to burn me alive. “It wasn’t a dream… was it?” After taking a closer look, I realize my whole body is caked in dried mud and blood.

I rush back to my bed with my candle to find my sheets and pillow covered in blood. “The sheets weren’t covered in sweat… they were covered in blood.”

As I look around, I see shadows. So. Many. Shadows. All I can see are shadows. The shadows are everywhere. I hear a growl in my right ear, except as I look over, there is nothing but shadows. I look to my left and glimpse two bright white glaring eyes.

“NO!” I shouted as loud as I could muster, “NOT AGAIN! PLEASE!” I rush out of my room, sprinting and stumbling through the castle's corridors. As I scream, “SOMEONE PLEASE, HELP,” a door opens, and I run toward it.

“What is going on out there?” they say, sticking their head out to peek at the long corridors. I shove past them and slam the door shut. “Please, you have to help me.” I beg, “Do you have any medical skills?”

“I do; why do you ask?” they reply with slight concern in their voice. I turn around and lift my ginger hair to show them the giant scratch marks on my back. “I’m in dire need of medical assistance. Is there any way you can help? I’m not sure how long I have.”

“Oh dear, I’ll see what I can do,” they say, “do they hurt at all?” They say, lightly brushing the skin around the scratches. I wince at their touch.

“I think adrenaline was saving me from most of the pain, but I think it’s wearing off now,” I reply.

“They look quite painful,” they respond sympathetically. “How did you get them?”

I am not sure if I should tell anyone about the “thing” yet, I think to myself. “I'm unsure how I got them,” I reply, hoping to be as deceptive as possible, and from what I can tell, they don’t seem to know I have just lied to them. “I woke up to a mixture of blood and mud on my bed and my entire body.”

“What is your name? I should probably know who I’m trusting and ensuring my safety to.” I know I am acting far too cautious, but I don’t care.

“Oh, my name is Sanao. Your voice sounds familiar. Might I happen to know you?” asked Sanao.

“It’s possible… and likely,” I reply.

“Well, what is your name then?” Sanao asks inquisitively. “I have told you mine; now it is your turn to share. What is it?”

Should I tell them my real name or an alias? I had never done good under pressure, and I began to panic. “My name is Emerald,” I blurt out.

Sanao bows down in respect, worry openly displayed along their candle-lit face, “My apologies, your majesty. I cannot see your face, and it’s challenging to distinguish the difference between people and… things in the dark.” The last part was only barely audible.

I'm sure my face had many questions written upon it, but “I prefer if you wouldn’t address me as ‘your majesty’ at this moment, please,” I say in desperation. “and honestly, I don’t really care what you call me right now; just help me.”