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Her stomach lurched as she plummeted, only for her to catch flight once more. She was no longer in her father’s arms, but seated on the hard, curved plastic of a swing. Her small fingers wrapped around the chains as her father pushed her higher. The swing bounced as she hit the top, fastenings groaning with the effort to stay attached.

“Careful!” her mother called. One hand was holding down the gingham tablecloth draped across the picnic table. Wind caught on the edges, threatening to tear it away.

“Oh, she’ll be fine, won’t you my little wildfire?”

Thicket grinned, letting her head tip back as the swing came down again. “Higher!”

Thicket’s father grabbed hold of the chains, yanking the swing to a stop.

“Awwww,” Thicket pouted.

“Come now,” her father said. “Let’s go help your mother before she loses the fight against the tablecloth.”

Thicket giggled and bounded over. Together, they pinned three of the four corners down.

“Where is Lavender?” her mother asked, sitting the picnic basket down on the fourth corner that kept curling upward.

“I saw her head into the forest,” Thicket said.

“I’ll help your mother set up the rest of the table,” her father said, ruffling her hair. “Why don’t you go get her and then we can have our picnic?”

Thicket’s fist shot up into the sky. “Picnic!” she chanted and darted across the damp mulch to the line of trees beyond the playground, chest swelling with pure happiness.

Today was the perfect day.

Far away, she felt something warm sting her eyes.

“Lavender!” Thicket hollered at the edge of the trees. “It is time for the picnic!”

No response. Thicket waded deeper. The forest was obscured with swirling mist, drifting between the towering trees and shielding any sign of her sister.

“Lavender?” Thicket’s footsteps slowed as she spotted the silhouette of her sister a dozen feet away. Something was cradled in her hands. A breeze swept across the forest, parting the mist long enough for Thicket to glimpse a mass of fuzzy brown, drip, drip, dripping with thick crimson liquid.

Thicket recoiled, stomach churning as Lavender set it down onto the forest floor, wiping her bloodstained hands against the sides of her dress. When she stepped back, Thicket’s eyes went wide, a scream catching in her throat.

From the fuzzy ball, a long, thin beak protruded. It was an animal. A dead animal.

Lavender swept behind the trees. Thicket mirrored her, heart hammering.

“Caw, caw.”

Thicket jumped as the cry was followed by a heavy beat of wings. She risked a glance around the tree in time to see a raven land beside the poor animal. It inspected the corpse, beak picking at its flesh.

“Liyr.”

The raven’s wings snapped to its side. It squawked furiously, trying to fly away, but it was held in place by invisible binds. Lavender stepped out from the trees.

“Free me,” the raven demanded, its voice deep and gravely.

“I will. But first, you need to tell me something.” The raven struggled as Lavender approached, towering over it with a twisted smile. “When will Thicket Rose Vogeli die?”

The raven’s glossy eyes blinked. Then, they shifted, locking onto Thicket. “Right now.”

Thicket screamed and the vision crumbled into thousands of bubbles—the last remnants of her air. She gasped. Water rushed into her lungs. She thrashed, choking and heaving in mouthful after mouthful of water.

The sting of the jellyfish grew sharper. Her body started to go numb.

She was back in the dream of darkness, unable to move or see.