**CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “The Dream That Wasn’t a Dream”**

  Lena’s scream tore Anna out of the shallow, exhausted sleep she’d managed. The cabin burst awake in a heartbeat—Lukas sitting up like he’d been pulled by a string, Anna already crossing the floor before she’d even fully opened her eyes.

  Lena thrashed beneath her quilt, breath coming in sharp, broken sobs.

  “Mama—Mama, I saw them!” she cried. “They were here, in the valley—they were alive before they were dead!”

  Anna gathered her daughter into her arms, pulling the trembling child against her chest. Lena’s nightdress clung damply to her skin. It felt like hugging a bird caught in a storm.

  “They remembered dying,” Lena whispered, voice so small it nearly vanished into Anna’s shoulder. “And now they remember us.”

  Anna felt her heartbeat stutter. She stroked Lena’s hair and forced her voice to stay calm. “It was a nightmare. Nothing more.”

  But it wasn’t. She knew it. She had seen the cavern walls. She had heard the ancient moan echoing from the darkness. She had left that place with the unmistakable feeling of being watched from behind stone.

  Lukas climbed off the bed and crossed the room quietly, his face pale in the lantern light. “Tell us,” he said gently. “Tell us what you saw.”

  Lena swallowed, eyes glassy. “The ancients. The first ones. The people who lived here before us.”

  Anna stiffened. “How would you know that?”

  “I just… knew,” Lena whispered. “I was standing in their world, Mama. It was like the mountain was dreaming, and I was inside its dream.”

  Anna met Lukas’s eyes—and saw the fear he tried to hide.

  “Start at the beginning,” Anna said softly. “Show me what you saw.”

  Lena closed her eyes. Her small hands trembled in Anna’s.

  The Vision Unfolds

  “I was in the cavern,” Lena whispered. “But it was bigger… so much bigger. They were tall. Soft voices. They weren’t scary at first. They lived with the cold like it was a friend.”

  Anna listened, pulse quickening.

  “They had symbols everywhere. Spirals, Mama. Like the ones in the cave. But they weren’t afraid of them. They wore them.”

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  “Wore them?” Anna asked.

  Lena nodded. “Painted on their skin. Carved into their clothes. Braided in their hair.” Her voice hitched. “They were beautiful… until the shadows came.”

  Anna’s breath caught. “What shadows?”

  Lena’s fingers dug into Anna’s sleeve. “The spirals moved. They came from the mountain. Like dust at first. Like snow that fell the wrong way. And when it touched the people, it crawled inside.”

  Lukas flinched.

  Anna closed her eyes, picturing the filaments around the ancient bones. The residue on the cluster of skeletons. The parasite’s threads weaving through nerve and muscle.

  “It wasn’t a sickness at the beginning,” Lena whispered. “It was a gift.”

  Anna stroked her daughter’s cheek. “Who told you that?”

  “The tall one,” Lena said, voice trembling. “Their leader. He kneeled right in front of me. He said they wanted to stop dying in the winter. They wanted strength. Warmth. To live longer. To protect their children.”

  Anna’s stomach turned.

  “And the parasite gave them that,” Lena said. “At first.”

  She shivered violently, and Anna held her tighter.

  “But then it wanted more.”

  Anna remembered the carvings showing bodies rising again—limbs wrong, spines twisted.

  “How did they—how did they die?” Anna asked softly.

  Lena opened her eyes.

  “They didn’t,” she said, voice barely audible. “Not really. The parasite kept them walking. Kept them breathing. But it wasn’t them anymore. Their eyes were full but empty.”

  Lukas whispered, “Like Hans.”

  Lena nodded. “They were alive and dead at the same time. The parasite wore them like clothes. Their voices weren’t theirs. Their smiles weren’t theirs. Their children cried because they didn’t know who their parents were anymore.”

  Anna swallowed back a sob. “And the ancients sealed themselves away.”

  “No,” Lena said softly. “The healthy ones tried to help. They fled. But the infected followed. Not to kill them… but to bring them back. To share the parasite.”

  Anna felt ice seep into her bones.

  Lena whispered, “That’s when they sealed the cavern. To stop the ones they loved from coming after them.”

  Dietrich had been wrong.

  It wasn’t ritual suicide.

  It was mercy.

  “And they all died?” Anna asked.

  Lena nodded. “The ones inside died once. And then died again. The ones outside died of winter, hunger, grief.”

  She leaned back, looking at Anna with wide, frightened eyes.

  “They’re gone, Mama.”

  Anna brushed a tear from her cheek. “Yes, child. They’re gone.”

  “No they’re not,” Lena whispered. “They remember.”

  Anna froze. “What do you mean?”

  “They remember us,” Lena said. “Me. You. Lukas. The valley. Faschnat. The fire. The masks.”

  She swallowed.

  “And they want us to finish what they started.”

  Anna felt her blood turn to ice.

  Lena looked up at her, tears streaking her cheeks.

  “The mountain remembers me,” she whispered. “And the parasite remembers my name.”

  Anna’s breath caught in her throat.

  She pulled both children into her arms and held them as if the world were crumbling outside the cabin walls.

  And maybe it was.