The front door opened again, and a different shadow fell across the room. Bigger. Darker. I smelled cologne, motor oil, and something hungry.

But the footsteps were coming back. Heavier this time.

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

The moment I slipped the headset on, I knew something was wrong.

I staggered upright. My legs felt wrong—too short, too light. My shirt hung off me like a tent, one sleeve dragging on the ground. My heartbeat was a drum in my throat.

The carpet rose up like a shaggy jungle. Each fiber was a pale, twisted tree trunk as tall as my chest. I landed on my hands and knees—soft, thank God, but the impact shuddered through my tiny bones. The headset had tumbled off somewhere in the drop, and for a second I was just… there. On my hands and knees. The size of an action figure.

“SARAH, LOOK DOWN!”