Dreams

The walk back home was heavy with unspoken words.

Amira barely heard the distant sirens or the occasional flickering streetlights as they passed through the battered streets. Her mind was too full—of the battle, of the shadowy figure, of the thing inside her.

The whispers hadn’t returned, but she still felt it. Lingering. Watching.

When they reached the main intersection where they usually split up, the group hesitated. Normally, this was where they would joke around, complain about school, or talk about meeting up later. But now, there was only silence.

Ruby was the first to break it.

“Okay, we have to talk about this,” she blurted out, crossing her arms. “We can’t just pretend that—” she gestured vaguely at Amira “—that didn’t happen.”

Amira tensed. “I know.”

Sara glanced around, lowering her voice. “Maybe we shouldn’t talk about this here. What if someone hears us?”

Dave exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Fine. Then what? We all just go home and act like this was a normal day?”

Nobody answered.

Amira swallowed hard. The idea of going home, of being alone with this—with herself—wasn’t comforting.

But what else could they do?

“…Let’s meet up tomorrow,” she said finally. “No skipping, no excuses. We need to figure this out.”

They all nodded, but the unease in their faces didn’t fade. One by one, they split off—Sara heading toward her family’s café, Ruby turning down a dimly lit street toward her apartment, and Dave vanishing into the city’s side roads.

Amira was the last to leave.

The walk to her house felt longer than usual. Every shadow she passed felt like it stretched toward her. Every gust of wind carried a whisper just beneath hearing.

By the time she reached her front door, her hands were shaking.

She took a deep breath, steadied herself, and stepped inside.

Everything was normal. The faint sound of the TV from the living room. The smell of leftover food from dinner. The comforting clutter of a home that had been lived in for years.

But as she closed the door behind her, she realized something.

She didn’t feel like she belonged here anymore.

Something had changed.

And she wasn’t sure if she could ever go back.

Amira shut the door behind her and leaned against it, exhaling slowly.

The house was quiet. Too quiet.

She toed off her shoes and walked through the dimly lit hallway toward her room. Her mom had left the kitchen light on, a small comfort in an otherwise dark house. A note was stuck to the fridge:

Working late again. Heat up dinner if you're hungry. Love you.

Amira swallowed, her throat tight. Love you too, she thought, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it out loud.

Her mind was still stuck on what had happened earlier. The battle. The blackout. The thing inside her.

She dragged herself to her bedroom and shut the door. Tossing her bag onto the floor, she collapsed onto her bed, staring at the ceiling.

Her body was exhausted, but her mind wouldn’t stop racing. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw flashes—images that didn’t feel like hers. A battlefield covered in shadows. A burning sky. A figure standing at the center of it all, eyes glowing with the same eerie purple light that had flickered in her hands.

And then, that voice.

"You are not yet whole."

Amira shivered. She didn’t know what that meant, but she hated how those words made her feel.

Like she was incomplete.

Like she wasn’t herself.

She sat up abruptly, breathing hard. Her hands ached, a dull warmth still lingering under her skin. Slowly, she turned them over, flexing her fingers.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then—

A flicker.

A tiny, almost invisible spark of violet light pulsed beneath her fingertips before fading away.

Amira’s stomach twisted.

This thing inside her… it wasn’t gone. It was still there. Still awake.

She curled her hands into fists.

She needed answers.

But for now, she needed sleep.

Lying back down, she pulled the blanket over her head, as if that would keep the shadows away.

It didn’t.

Amira dreamed.

But it wasn’t like any dream she’d had before.

She stood in an endless void, the ground beneath her feet a swirling mix of shadows and mist. There was no sky, no horizon—just an empty expanse stretching forever. Yet, she wasn’t alone.

A figure stood in front of her.

It had no face, only the outline of a body made of shifting darkness. But its eyes—its eyes were the same unnatural violet that had flickered in her hands.

"You are beginning to see."

Amira’s breath hitched. She tried to move, but her body felt heavy, as if something was pressing down on her.

“Who are you?” she demanded, though her voice barely echoed in the void. “What do you want from me?”

The figure tilted its head, as if amused.

"I want what was always meant to be yours."

The mist beneath her feet began to swirl, twisting into something solid. When she looked down, her breath caught in her throat.

Bodies.

Dozens of them.

Some unfamiliar. Others… terrifyingly recognizable.

Her friends.

Ruby, Sara, Dave—motionless, lifeless, their bodies tangled in the growing mass of shadows.

“No,” Amira choked out, stumbling backward. “This isn’t real. This can’t be real.”