The Glowing Thing in the Dark

 
"I didn’t want to go in. I know that sounds stupid now. I’d already followed her through the forest, through that clearing, past that thing. But when I stood at the ruin’s edge... something in my chest said no. Loud."

"I turned to her. Thought maybe she’d lead me back. But she was just... floating. Silent now. No song. No glow. Like her part was over."

"The ruin didn’t have walls. Just shadows pretending to be stone. And in the center, where the ground dipped—there was a guardian."

"Colossal. Made of angles. Not parts. It didn’t move. But it existed like something trying not to be seen too clearly. You could only look at it out of the corner of your mind."

"Past it, there was something glowing. Pure white. Hanging in the air like a thread pulled taut between dimensions."

"I don’t know what it was. But the moment I looked at it—I wasn’t there anymore."

"I was dreaming. Or... something was dreaming me. I remember smiling. Crying. Knowing everything I ever wanted—and then forgetting it."

"And then I woke up. In my bed. Covers pulled. Pillow under my head. Same damp apartment. Like I’d never left."

"But my boots were still muddy. My ribs were glowing. And my wife? She was gone."