(GILBERT'S POV)
The world snapped back into focus like a rubber band stretched too thin and finally released.
I stumbled forward, gasping for breath, my legs trembling beneath me as though I had just run a hundred miles without stopping. My hand was still locked in Jasper's grip—warm, steady, impossibly grounding—and I used it to anchor myself as I blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of my new surroundings.
We were standing at the edge of a clearing.
The forest stretched endlessly in every direction—ancient oaks with trunks as wide as houses, silver birches that gleamed like ghosts in the moonlight, their branches weaving together overhead to form a natural cathedral of shadow and silver. The air smelled of pine and wildflowers and something else, something ancient and magical that hummed against my skin like a living thing.
And there, nestled at the heart of the clearing, stood a mansion.
It was... not what I expected.
