EIRA'S POV
The silence shattered with a piercing shrill.A baby sat on the cold floor, wailing with desperate, broken sobs. No one came to comfort him. The curtains sagged like heavy shadows. Shards of glass scattered across the floor gleamed like tiny, deadly stars. The house itself felt forsaken—untouched for days. Dust drifted lazily in pale light, cobwebs stitched the corners, and the air carried the scent of abandonment.
Then I saw them.Figures cloaked in black coats, gliding like phantoms through a moonless jungle. The sky stretched above them—a starless, endless void. Their footsteps whispered against the earth, silent but certain, as though they had walked this path a thousand times. Soon, they reached the house. The door shuddered, then crashed to the ground.
The baby's cries sharpened into something primal, a sound that clawed at the air.
And then—A dagger. Silver, gleaming cold and merciless in one of their hands.He raised it above the child.
No… no! Please! He's going to kill him—
The blade arched downward—
NO!
I convulsed, trembling violently, gasping as though I had been drowning. My chest ached; my lungs clawed for air. The baby. The dagger. The blood—
But it wasn't real. Just a dream. Again.I pressed a hand to my heart, trying to steady the storm inside me.
Not the first dream. Not the last.
Since I was six years old, I've been haunted by them. The first one still burns in my memory—three shadowy figures creeping into my home, their faces hidden. Their voices were a blur, but one sentence etched itself into my soul.
They would come for me when I turned eighteen.
I told everyone. Begged for answers. No one believed me. No one knew. The dreams never stopped. Once every year they returned, each time showing me more horrors—sometimes my family in pain, sometimes me in chains. Always, those eyes watching, as though I belonged to them.
But not today. I won't let them own me.Today is the beginning of a new life.Today, I leave for Wisconsin—for medical college.
I can't believe I actually got in.
"Eira, get up! God, who else will wake you if not me?"
"This girl is always late!"
My mom's voice cracked through the air, dragging me out of my thoughts. I bolted toward the washroom, adrenaline banishing the last traces of nightmare.
Breakfast was chaos, as usual.
"Eat slowly, the food isn't running away."
"We'll be stuck in traffic today, I know it," my father muttered darkly.
"At least let her eat properly!" Mom snapped, stuffing snacks into my bag with soldierly determination.
"Did you even pack your nightwear?"
Of course I forgot.
"She hasn't," my brother smirked, enjoying himself far too much. "She was up all night pretending to study, as usual."
Why does he live to see me fail?
Breakfast ended in a rush of hugs and tears. My mother's arms wrapped around me, her voice trembling with both strength and fear.
"Take care of yourself. Eat on time. Call me for anything. I am always with you, remember that." She kissed my forehead, her lips warm against my skin.
"Mom, She is going to study, not to fight a war," my brother teased, though his hug betrayed a softer side.
"Take care of yourself, fatty," he muttered.
"Let's go!" my father barked from the car.
As we pulled away, I waved until my family blurred into the distance. Excitement sparked in me, but the ache of leaving them settled heavy in my chest.
My father drove with his usual sharp impatience, scolding reckless drivers with muttered curses. Then, out of nowhere, he asked:
"Are you excited?"
"Yes… of course," I whispered.
A shadow flickered in me. But what if I'm not good enough?
"You will be," he said firmly. "My daughter will never fail." His eyes softened. "Promise me, Eira—you'll never break our trust."
"I promise."
Four hours later…
A boy sat on a sofa, sipping something crimson from a glass. His face was hidden, but his skin was pale—deathly pale. I moved closer, desperate to see his eyes—
Warmth. Sticky.
I looked down.
Blood. Thick pools of blood spreading beneath my feet.
BLOOD!
"Eira! Wake up!"
I jolted awake, soaked in sweat, chest heaving. Blood. Too much blood—
"Still having those nightmares?" My father's voice, sharper than usual.
I croaked, "W… water."
He handed me a bottle. I gulped it down, trying to wash away the terror. His eyes lingered on me, torn between worry and irritation.
"These dreams are from those horror shows you watch, Eira. Stop feeding your head with nonsense."
"I had them long before I even knew what ghost and witches were."
"Rubbish," he muttered. "Enough. We're here. —no arguments."
Despite the unease gnawing inside me, excitement swelled. A new beginning.
We reached the principal's office.
"May I come in?" I asked, voice trembling just slightly.
"Yes, dear, come in," a warm voice replied.
"This is my daughter, Eira Banes," my father introduced curtly.
"Welcome, Eira," the principal greeted. His smile was kind, his presence grounding.
While they discussed paperwork, I slipped out to explore.
The dream still haunted me. Baby. Blade. Boy. Blood. Each vision coming more often now—not once a year, but again and again. This month alone, eight times.
Why?
A sound—footsteps.
I froze. Looked around. Nothing.
I had wandered too far, to the back of the campus where the forest thickened into shadows.
The sound came again. From inside the trees.
Every instinct screamed to leave. Yet something pulled me forward, a tether invisible but unyielding.
I stepped into the shadows.