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It was vulnerability. The chill seeped into my skin, bypassing muscle and bone to settle directly in my soul.

Where was I? I didn't remember walking here. The last thing I recalled was falling asleep in the sanctuary, surrounded by my mates, sated and marked.

Complete. Finally complete.

A path formed before me, winding through the dead field toward a distant shape that seemed vaguely familiar. With nowhere else to go, I followed it, wincing as the brittle grass cut at my feet. Each step felt heavier than the last, as if gravity itself was strengthening its pull on me.

As I drew closer, I realized the distant shape was a structure. Or what remained of one. Wooden beams jutted from the ground at odd angles, like the ribs of some long-dead creature. A tattered canopy hung limply from the tallest beam, and scattered across the ground were the remnants of what might have been bedding.

My heart stuttered in my chest as recognition dawned.

"This is Callum's bed," I whispered, the words leaving my lips like shards of ice. "His chambers."

The bed where I'd spent that first night with him, where he'd shown me glimpses of the pleasure to come. But this wasn't right. It looked like it had been abandoned for centuries, left to rot and decay in this colorless wasteland.

A chill ran down my spine, different from the ambient coldness of this place. This was the icy finger of premonition, of warning. Something was very wrong here.

I approached the ruined bed, reaching out to touch one of the broken posts. The wood crumbled beneath my fingertips, disintegrating like everything else in this godsforsaken place.

"What happened here?" I murmured, trying to make sense of it all. "Where am I?"

The sound came without warning. A low, inhuman keening that seemed to emanate from everywhere and nowhere at once. I spun around, searching for the source, but saw only the endless field of dead grass stretching toward the horizon.

Another sound joined the first. It was a wet, slithering noise that raised the fine hairs on my arms and neck. Then another, a bone-deep groaning that reminded me of ice cracking on a frozen lake.

I rubbed my arms vigorously, trying to ward off the soul-deep chill that was seeping into every fiber of my being. This wasn't just cold; it was an absence of warmth, of life, of hope.

"Gran?" I called out, instinctively seeking the spirit who had always protected me. "Gran, are you here?"

No response. No spirits answered my call. For the first time since my powers had awakened, I was truly alone.

Another sound, this one like brittle fingernails scraping across glass. I turned again, desperately searching for something, anything familiar in this desolate landscape.

"Hello?" I called again, hating the tremor in my voice. "Is anyone there?"

The only answer was a faint chittering, like thousands of tiny teeth clicking together. The sound grew louder, surrounding me, a whispering cacophony that seemed to carry meaning just beyond my comprehension.

I pressed my palms against my ears, but the noise persisted, worming its way into my consciousness. Louder now, the chittering formed patterns, almost like words.

"...ours..."

"...soon..."

"...waiting..."

"Stop it!" I shouted, spinning in a circle, searching for the source. "Who's there? What do you want?"

A movement caught my eye. A shadow, darker than the colorless void around it, slithering along the ground toward the ruined bed. Then another, and another, converging like streams into a river, pooling at the base of the destroyed structure.

I took a step back, my heart hammering against my ribs. The shadows began to rise, not like smoke or mist, but like something viscous and alive, molding itself into a vaguely humanoid shape.

That is if humans had too many limbs and heads that bent at impossible angles.

The chittering grew louder, resolving into a single voice that spoke with the sound of a thousand whispers.

"Sierra..."

My name in that voice was an obscenity, a violation. I took another step back.