Young she was—only eighteen—yet her curiosity still burned with the restless wonder of a child who had never stopped asking why the world breathed the way it did. She came from a small, storied town cradled in the hush of ancient hills, a place where coffee was not merely grown, but revered. Their brews were whispered about far beyond its borders—elixirs said to heal the weary and awaken something long buried within the soul. Some even claimed their cups carried the essence of rebirth itself.
And then there was her.
The town had named her Nightmare—not out of fear, but fascination. She was a mystery wrapped in quiet presence. No one knew where she came from, only that she had appeared one cold dawn, left as an infant on her adopted mother’s doorstep like an unanswered question. She grew up beneath watchful eyes and hushed conversations, always set slightly apart, as if the world itself wasn’t quite sure what to make of her.
Perhaps that’s why she wandered.
Drawn by something she couldn’t name, Nightmare ventured into the woods one afternoon, seeking solitude—seeking herself. The trees stood tall and ancient, their shadows stretching like secrets across the forest floor. The deeper she walked, the quieter the world became, until even her thoughts seemed to echo.
Then she saw it.
A bird perched in the distance—small, but unmistakably strange. Its feathers shimmered with an unnatural sheen, its presence both delicate and unsettling, as though it didn’t belong to this world… or perhaps belonged too much.
It tilted its head, watching her.
And in that moment, the air shifted.
The forest seemed to steep around her like a carefully crafted brew—smooth, complex, layered with something deeper than she could understand. There was a richness in the air, like dark chocolate melting into warmth, touched by the subtle sweetness of maple and ripe plum. A brightness followed—apple-like, crisp and alive—cut through with the delicate bitterness of black tea lingering at the edges.
It was as if the very essence of her homeland had followed her here… or had been waiting for her all along.
Nightmare took a step closer.
And the bird did not fly away.
