My Lycan Mate of Suicide Forest

August had changed into the clothes that were too large on her, but at least they were comfortable. She was back in bed with her knees up to her chest, clutching the medallion like a lifeline, waiting for when Penelope would return.

The tea was fine, but she didn't have an appetite for anything else. Shouldn't she have been hooked up to fluids or something if she were dehydrated? Why did none of this make sense? A wealthy benefactor offering to help in her case when the hospitals were full and Eliade was on lockdown?

Maybe her mother would be able to come to visit if August wasn't actually able to leave. She wondered where this island was anyway. Penelope hadn't told her.

She looked at the silver medallion in her hand, continually running her thumb over the strange abstract design. It appeared to be a bird and a sun. She had never seen anything like it, but at the same time it felt so familiar to her—almost precious. Maybe she was losing her mind.

A fluttering sound caught her attention, and she noticed black wings beating against one of the windows behind her. She got up and approached the glass, looking for a way to open the window, but there didn't seem to be one. Instead, when the beating of the wings didn't stop, she put her palm flat against the glass.

When the black shape disappeared from the small panel her hand was on, she pushed her nose against the glass to try to see where it had gone. But the glass was not translucent, having trapped condensation between its panes that she couldn't see through.

August looked down the corridor to see if Penelope was coming yet as she had made it seem like it would not be too long before she would return—only time enough for August to change. But the double doors were still closed, daunting in their elaborate, heavy design that arched so high.

Without thinking more on it, August decided to wander looking for a door to get some fresh air and maybe look for the mysterious bird. Perhaps she could even get an idea of where this island was.

She passed a few more beds like hers that looked as if they had never been used. The beds were perfectly made—crisp white sheets and perfectly shaped pillows. Finally, she found a door between two beds that was made of panes of glass identical to the windows. It camouflaged with the windows so well—a nearly invisible door to the outside.

She shot one last glance at the double doors down the hall before grabbing the glass door's small metal handle and pushing it out. What met her was a world of green. She closed the door softly behind her and walked into the lush overgrown grass and garden that flanked the infirmary's greenhouse exterior.

August gasped when she noticed the way the trees arched unnaturally, reaching over the exterior of a crumbling stone mansion and toward the circular opening of the sky above the infirmary. Why were they like that? How had they grown that way? It felt like the trees were prisoners in their own growth, desperately wanting to be freed from the uniform perfection that was forced upon them. They wanted to be wild, but they were forced to maintain this constant bend—frozen performers in someone else's play on life.

She gulped, gripping the silver necklace that she had brought with her that was dangling in one hand. What kind of twisted person lived in this place? And if he was so wealthy, why did the exterior look like it was in such desperate need of repair? The finer details of the mansion's facade were hard to see, because the shade from the bent trees made it quite dark everywhere else but under the circle of sky above her. It was like she was looking up from inside the pupil of a massive eye.

A shudder of recognition passed through her, and suddenly she was back in suicide forest with Jonathan and her friends. There was a massive eye. A clock. The black forest was a clock, and at its center, turning slowly her way, was an eye arching high above the treetops. Her last memory was of that eye and the fear that she was about to be taken into the terrifying void at its center. The center held everything—all knowledge, all being, all existence—but to be taken into it meant death. Its knowledge was incompatible with life.

But… but now she was in it, wasn't she? She was in the void. It had gotten her. According to Penelope, she had disappeared, and her memories were gone after that point. Did that mean the eye had finally turned its gaze on her, snatching her into its depths? And now here she was, at the center of it… trapped. Why did she feel trapped?

A curious clucking sound stole her attention, bringing her back to the reality of the living things around her. She wasn't dead. She was just trapped. There were plants and flowers and animals. There was a crow sitting patiently, focusing its one eye on her and tilting its head as if trying to decide what to make of her. Was she worth its time?

She exhaled heavily, pushing away the fear of the memory that had decided to haunt her. Perhaps it wasn't real. It seemed like more of a nightmare, and it certainly didn't explain how she had gotten here. She hadn't been sucked into a mysterious portal in suicide forest, surely.

"Hi there," she called softly to the bird, crouching down as she did to seem less intimidating to the small winged creature. "Were you fluttering against my window? Did you want my attention?"

The crow hopped toward her, continuing to study her with its blue eye. When it was finally close enough, it approached her hand and pulled on the shiny silver chain that was dangling there. August giggled.

"Oh, you want the shiny thing? What a typical crow you are. I don't think so," she giggled more. "This isn't mine."

'Whose is it?' the crow tilted its head, its blue eye piercing her with the unspoken question.. She gasped and fell back against the earth.

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