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She tried to push free, but the branches held tight. She tried to kick, but her feet were encased in dirt and roots.

This isn’t real,she repeated to herself. But still her heart sped. Tears fell down her cheeks. She tore futilely at her prison until her fingers bled.

As the branches closed around her, she became surrounded by darkness.

“Miyoung-ah. Leave.”

“I can’t.” She couldn’t breathe. If this was a dream, why couldn’t she breathe?

“If you stay, you’ll die.”

“No!” She clawed at the branches with bloody fingers.

“You think it’s over, but it’s not. You think you’re free, but you’re not.”

Out of the darkness a pale face appeared, beautiful and cold. Yena’s eyes captured Miyoung’s.

“Eomma,” she sobbed out. “Help me.”

Yena’s lips peeled back, revealing sharp teeth. “Help yourself!”

Miyoung jerked awake, struggling against the tangle of sheets that had twisted around her. As she remembered the dream, she knew that wasn’t all it was.

She still felt like she couldn’t breathe. She thumped a fist against her chest to clear her lungs. She finally wheezed in air.

Squeezing her eyes shut again, she could still picture her mother’s face. Fierce. Cold. Almost threatening.

It was more than just a dream. It was a warning.