Moonlit Novella

Chapter 4

The mist had thickened into a living thing by the time Ivy left the festival, coiling through the streets and stretching long fingers between iron fences and rusted gates. Fog seeped between the bars, winding through the empty town like a silent tide, swallowing the world in shades of silver and gray. Her boots scuffed softly against the damp cobblestone, the sound muted, lost in the thick hush of the night.

The warmth of the festival still clung to her, the scent of woodsmoke and cider, the echo of laughter. But here, beyond the glow of the bonfire and the hum of voices, it felt distant, like a fading memory.

She walked with purpose, though she wasn’t entirely sure why. Her thoughts still tangled in the sharp exchange between Mercer and Elias, the way tension had bristled between them, thick and unsaid. “Didn’t know you were back in town.”

It was a warning, not a greeting.

Elias had only smiled, slow and careless, like Mercer’s words rolled off him like rain against stone. Mercer, solid and unmoving, had watched him like a man who had seen fire take hold before. Who knew the exact moment the flames would consume everything in sight.

Ivy exhaled, shaking off the weight pressing against her ribs. What the hell had happened between them?

Then there was the story Graham had told her: a fight, blood, a man in the hospital. Mercer had described Elias as “possessed or something” that night. 

The thought twisted inside her. Elias had been warm, his presence effortless. But now, that same ease unsettled her.

A flicker of movement in the mist snapped her attention forward.

Gold eyes, gleaming in the dark.

She froze.

A black cat emerged from the fog, moving soundlessly. It watched her, unblinking, its presence deliberate, almost like it had been waiting. Then, without hesitation, it padded forward, falling into step beside her.

She swallowed, unease prickling at the edges of her mind. “Are you lost?”

The cat didn’t answer, of course. It only flicked its tail, a slow, deliberate movement.

By the time she reached her cottage, the cat was still with her. She paused at the steps, her eyes drifting past the house, past the ivy-covered walls and the shuttered windows to the narrow grass trail winding behind it. The path stretched toward the dense forest beyond, the trees swaying gently against the night.

The wet grass bowed in the breeze, bending as if caught in the pull of some unseen force. The blades tilted toward the trees, a thousand tiny gestures all pointing in the same direction.

This way.

The words drifted across her mind like a song, carrying the faintest whisper of invitation. Leaving a subtle urge to follow.

Before she could give it another thought, warmth brushed against her leg. The cat wound itself around her calf, its tail trailing tenderly along her skin.

She looked down.

The cat met her gaze, golden eyes steady, intentional. Then, without sound, it turned and padded up the stone sidewalk, slipping toward the front door, as if warning her not to go back there.

Ivy hesitated, a strange feeling curling inside her chest. Then, slowly, she stepped up onto the porch and pulled open the door.

The cat didn’t need convincing. It slipped inside the moment the door opened.

Ivy locked it behind her, exhaling slowly. The warmth of the cottage settled around her, grounding and familiar, but something still felt off.

The cat had already curled up on the couch, its eyes never leaving her. 

She lit a candle, the small flame flickering uncertainly against the dim room. Shadows stretched and swayed against the walls, flickering like figures shifting just out of reach. The silence pressed in, thick and unnatural. Like something was waiting.

She didn’t turn on the radio. She didn’t move at all. Instead, she let herself sink into the chair, too exhausted to think, too drained to fight the creeping weight of sleep.

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Ivy was back at the festival.

The bonfire roared high, flames licking at the dark sky, but the faces around her blurred, shifting and flickering like candlelight caught in a draft. Shadows moved in their places, some faceless, some familiar.

Mercer stood near the fire, the glow casting long, sharp angles over his face. His eyes found hers through the crowd, steady, watchful, carrying the same unspoken warning from before.

Then, Elias was there, too, standing just at the edge of the fire’s reach, half in light, half in darkness. His gaze burned through her, sharp and amused, like he knew something she didn’t. Like he was waiting for her to understand.

The voices around her warped, shifting into whispers. Words she couldn’t make out.

Then the fire twisted, the flames stretching, curling into something else almost human.

A voice. Low. Echoing from everywhere and nowhere.

“It’s happening again.”

The flames surged higher, swallowing the shapes within them, warping into something vast and unknowable. The ground beneath Ivy shifted, turning weightless, unsteady. The whisper returned, curling around her like smoke, distant but unmistakable.

“You can’t stop it.”

The fire flared white-hot, shadows stretching impossibly long, reaching for her.

The dream shattered.