“Marshmallows. Do you eat them?” Ben asks as he slips onto a bar stool next to Alastaire.

“I guess,” I say. “They’re nice in hot chocolate.”

“Good,” he says. “We’re running out of food and all we have left is a jumbo-sized bag of marshmallows until Kitty can get to the shops tomorrow.”

“Wonderful planning as always Kitty,” says Alastaire. “You had one job. ONE JOB.”

“Hey!” Kitty says as she punches Alastaire in the arm. “We wouldn’t have run out if you guys hadn’t eaten an entire week’s worth of groceries in one weekend. It’s not my fault you’re all such gluttons.”

“That’s not true,” Ben says. “Anyway, I would kill for a pizza right now. Remind me again why we’re camped out in the middle of the woods hours away from civilization.”

“It’s all in the name of music my friend,” Alastaire says breezily. “Which reminds me. Cupcake, no more napping today, okay? We thought we’d show you around the recording studio this afternoon. We’ve got a few tracks in the works we can play for you. And if you behave yourself and help us make lots of pretty music, I’ll let you have some of my Moët at the bonfire.”

“What?” I say, feeling pretty lost.

“Moët & Chandon,” Alastaire says. “I have Rose Imperial and a few bottles of the 1943 cuveé if that’s your scene.”

“No, I mean, you said there was a bonfire?” I say. Am I missing something?

“Yeah, it was Elliot’s idea,” Ben says.

“That’s why they’ve been forcing me to do manual labor like a middle class pleb all morning,” Alastaire says. “We’ve been out collecting wood. If we're going to eat our weight in marshmallows for supper, we might as well roast them over a bonfire under the stars. Washed down with equal amounts of vintage champers of course, to make the whole experience more bearable."

“Marshmallows, beer and champagne are literally all we have left,” Ben says. “That, and coffee.”

“You want me to stay for the bonfire?” I ask, worried about where this is all going.

“Yeah, of course,” Ben says while the others nod in unison.

“But… won’t it be dark by the time we’re done?” I ask. “I don’t know about walking home through the forest. That seems sort of dangerous. Even with a flashlight.”

“Who said anything about you going home Cupcake?” Alastaire leans closer to me, twirling his finger around a strand of my hair. “You’re spending the night.”

“Alone in a locked room of course,” Kitty says as she shoots Alastaire a scolding glance. “That bedroom you were in earlier is empty. You should just stay over.”

Should I do it? My parents are going to freak. No way can I ask them if it’s ok for me to sleep over in an isolated cabin in the forest with five teenaged guys. Literal, actual rock stars to make it even worse. One of whom is a world-renowned manslut. I’ll definitely need to make up a cover story.

“I think it's ok,” I say. "But I have to make a phone call."

“Good luck,” Ben says. “Haven’t you noticed yet? There’s no service out here. I’m having serious internet withdrawals.”

I fish my phone out of my cardigan pocket. He’s right – there aren’t any signal bars.

“Actually, I found a spot with signal near the house,” Kitty says. “It’s really weak but you should be able to make a call.”

“What?!” Ben and Alastaire both gasp at the same time.

“You didn’t think to share this information?” Alastaire asks, staring daggers at Kitty.

“I thought it would be good for you to have a bit of a data detox,” Kitty says. “You’re meant to be focusing on the music during this break. Not sitting glued to your screens.”

“Like you can talk,” Ben says.

“Whatevs,” Kitty says, gliding towards the door. “You guys are the ones out here on band camp. You’re the ones who need to stay hidden away on the woods in case one of your cray fangirls spots you, not me. I’ve still got a life to live, thank you very much.”

“No one asked you to come, Kitty,” Alastaire says.

“I don’t need anyone to ask me,” she says, her voice taking on a hard edge for a moment. “Anyway, Ashling, just walk around the back of the house and go to the tree with the love seat hanging from it. If you stand around there you should get reception. I’ll see you later.”

She gives me a quick wave and leaves the room, while Alastaire flips her off behind her back.

“Sweet!” Ben says, grabbing his phone off the counter. “Last one there’s a –”

“Ladies first,” Alastaire interrupts him, winking at me over his shoulder. “Maybe Cupcake wants to make a private phone call.”

“Oh, sorry Ash,” Ben says, settling back down on the bar stool. “I’ll wait till you’re done.”

I almost tell him it’s ok, but then I imagine my mom fighting back about me spending the night, arguing with me over the phone, with me pleading my case. No way do I want Ben to overhear that.

So I just say thanks, and I head out of the room, along the entrance hall and out through the front door.

I pause for a moment on the porch, looking down at the spot I fainted just a few hours ago. The last thing I remember before I passed out was Felix rushing forward to catch me.

I look up at the cluster of rose branches, thorns and blood red blooms that blanket the front of the cabin. The fragrance is just as strong as it was earlier, a heady sea of bewitching scent. But somehow, it’s different now. Not as overpowering. Before, something about it had made me feel sleepy. I could have sworn that the roses actually drugged me.

That’s impossible. Magic roses. What’s next? Are Sam and Frodo going to fly out of the forest on Harry's broomstick waving around lightsabers? I really need to get a grip.

I take a deep breath, banishing any crazy thoughts as I set out down a narrow leafy pathway that cuts through the thick moss blanketing the clearing. Around the back of the house, I find a huge open area covered in leaves. The trees are maybe a hundred feet away. Massive rocks covered in moss and lichen lie scattered around the clearing, with ferns sprouting up haphazardly between the stones.

About halfway to the trees, a pile of wood has been stacked into a bonfire. An axe is embedded into a log next to it.

It takes me a few seconds to spot the tree Kitty was talking about. A wooden love seat hangs by ropes from one of the lower branches of a gigantic oak. The twisted, ancient trunk has got to be at least ten feet wide, and must have taken hundreds of years to grow.

I bet it's the oldest tree in the entire forest.

Its emerald cloud of foliage radiates a soft green glow, each leaf lit up, illuminated by the late afternoon light like the panes of stained glass inside the cabin. A gust of wind sends the leaves flickering, and for a moment it looks almost like the tree is leafless and burning with iridescent green fire. The flames lick at the air, dancing hungrily down the ropes towards the love seat, crackling with a vibrant, eerie energy.

I stand dumbfounded, realizing that I’m not seeing an illusion caused by the light.

The tree is literally on fire.

And the fire is green.

A bright, otherworldly, magical green.

Whether it’s a hallucination or reality, this is what I’m seeing at this very moment, with my own eyes.

A blast of heat from the strange fire rushes over me, and a now familiar sharp stabbing pain shoots into my ribcage, piercing my scar with such intensity that I double over clutching my chest. The wave of pain subsides in just a moment, leaving a dull echo of the sensation ebbing away.

I stay hunched over for a moment, my eyes squeezed tightly shut.

I’m afraid to look again. But I have to.

So I pull myself together, open my eyes and look dead ahead.

The fire is gone. It’s just a normal tree at the edge of the clearing, covered in normal midsummer leaves.

Maybe I’m making a mistake carrying on with all this. The whole situation is clearly doing something to me. The safest place for me now is in a psychiatrist’s office. Heck, maybe even the loony bin.

But I have to try move forward. Crazy or not.

I consider going back to the house, away from the creepy tree. But that would be admitting defeat. Right now, I have to focus on what I know is real. And that's the opportunity in front of me. I'll help Fable with their album, I'll make connections in the music industry, and I'll start living the life I always dreamed of. That's what's real. That's all I need to worry about.

But first, I've got to get the parentals' permission to stay the night.

So I gingerly pick my way across the clearing, moving closer and closer to the edge of the forest.

I take my phone out and hold it up in front of me, hoping that maybe I’ll get a signal in the clearing.

Maybe I won’t have to walk all the way up to the tree.

But my phone is still showing no bars. Only when I’m right on the forest’s edge, a few feet from the formerly flaming oak tree, do some bars appear on my phone. The signal is still too weak, so I move even closer. Finally, I have a decent signal.

I’m standing right in front of the love seat, so I sit down. It sways ever so slightly, and my fear dissipates with the gentle rocking motion. Under the cool green shade, it’s impossible to even imagine that I thought this tree was on fire just moments ago.

I’m just tired. And hungry. A few hallucinations and paranoid thoughts about shadows following me doesn't equal crazy. No siree.

I scroll down to my mom’s mobile number. I’m about to hit call when I realize that I don’t actually have a good cover story ready.

I should probably just tell her I’m spending the night at Zee’s, or Jamie’s. Maybe Jamie. With her mom away on some love cruise with her latest toy boy, it’s not like my parents can check up with her.

My mom’s phone rings. And rings.

After half a minute I hang up.

I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s not like she ever answers it anyway. Seriously, the woman might as well not even have a phone.

So I try calling my home phone instead. Someone picks up the call immediately.

“Ashling?” A familiar voice asks, full of panic. It sounds like…

“Jamie?” I ask.

“Yeah, it’s me,” she says. “Ashling, where are you?”

“I’m–” I catch myself before I can slip up and reveal the boys’ location. I promised them I’d keep that secret. “I’m ok. Why are you at my house?”

“Ashling, listen to me,” she says, her tone urgent. “You need to come home. Come home. Right now.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, feeling the panic rising. “Jamie?”

It sounds like she’s saying something, but all I can hear are jumbled sounds, then white noise. The call disconnects, and the dial tone rings in my ear.

With shaking hands, I struggle to keep a hold of the phone while I call her back, but my phone says there’s no signal.

A single bright green leaf flickers through the air in front of me, falling down to the ground. There’s a faint rustling from the tree above me.

My skin prickles over with goose bumps.

Slowly, I look up.