There was a lull in the chatter of the stars, an unusual silence that pressed against the skin like a fog of shadows. She had been warned, once, by someone she couldn’t quite remember, that those who wander past midnight find more than just pathways in the darkness.
Footsteps echoed in the mind, not by anyone beside her, but rather, they were a part of her own rhythm—a dark counterpunch to the pulsing silence. She paused at the sound, heart drumming a warning, yet curiosity lured her further into the night's embrace. What awaited her just beyond the bend?
An old sign, rusted and half-hidden beneath ivy tendrils, whispered its own secret coded message. No Trespassing, it declared, though its voice crackled with mischief. Who had the right to trespass here, past the boundaries of what is known?