The Gates Of New World?

"I'll be damned... I'll be fucking damned..."

Hazel pressed her fingers into her temples, her voice raw from exhaustion. The bags under her eyes felt heavier than her entire body.

Arthur glanced at her. "No sleep?"

"No sleep."

She threw her head back against the woven nest, groaning. "I closed my eyes. I shifted to the most comfortable position. And guess what? No. Fucking. Sleep."

Morning had come—or something like it.

Thin, yellow light trickled through the canopy, dull and weak against the lingering fog. The darkness had eased, but not by much. The world was still dim, still wrong.

Hazel sighed, rubbing her face. "Alright. I'm not saying I accept this, but…" She took a slow, deep breath. "I distinctly remember a child helping us. Unless I was hallucinating—"

"You could say I am between real and false."