I open my eyes. Muted sunlight filters through autumn branches. A little boy in his nightclothes sits against a tree. The leaves barely clinging to their twigs twitch and shudder in the breeze, but nothing moves against my skin.
I feel empty, and a rush of weightlessness sweeps me. Unnerved, I take a stuttering step forward, but the leaves don't crunch under my feet, and I don't feel the leaves under my feet.
A scream shatters the air, and I spin, searching for the source of the sound. Instead of finding it, I only hear a matching call. The noises are tortured and hateful, and I fear these murder-shrieks with a child's instinct. In the distance, someone wails and someone else cries for her mother.
"Aster," a calm voice says, and I whirl again. A girl walks toward me, steps crunching over the leaves. She has hair like red wine and warm, doe eyes.
Confused and afraid, I stare at her.
She holds her hand out to me, palm up. "Welcome to Antium."