TWILIGHT
The one called Skye hovered at the breaking point.
For a whisper of time, the island hesitated, unsure how much she could handle. To shatter her mind would be excruciating and wasteful, yet without the cruelest memory of all, the rest would be worthless. She would not understand, she would not see.
Either way, there would be a cost. The island understood that, and if she survived, she would come to understand that too.
The island had no choice left.
It would borrow from the humans, borrow the emotion they called hope. It would hope the one called Skye was as strong as the island believed her to be, that her mind would not break.
For the first time, the island opened itself fully to a human: it let the one called Skye see.
Everything.