The night pressed against Avalyn's room like a living thing. She must have fallen asleep somewhere between exhaustion and dread, though she didn't remember when.
One moment she was lying in bed, the next the edges of the world blurred, dragging her down into a haze where reality and memory twisted together.
The bruise on her arm throbbed faintly, a dull, insistent reminder that she was still alive—still here.
And then, the room dissolved.
Rain pelted her face, cold and sharp, yet louder than it should have been, echoing inside her chest. The scent of gasoline and burning metal filled the air. Walls melted into asphalt and glass. The wind screamed past her ears, and she realized she was back in the crash.
Her body was pinned, trapped in twisted metal. Blood trickled down her temple. Her hands shook as she tried to move, reaching desperately for the steering wheel that felt miles away.
"No… not like this," she whispered, voice shaking.
Time stretched and warped. Each second dragged into eternity. Panic clawed at her throat, but underneath it lay an unbearable calm. The edges of reality were fraying. She was dying.
And then—a thought burned inside her. No. Not like this. I won't die like this.
Tears mingled with the rain on her face. Her voice, trembling and small, called out into the void:
"Please… someone… I don't want to die."
"I'll do anything… just give me another chance."
Her chest tightened, the darkness pressing closer. The world had faded to nothing.
Then she heard it: footsteps. Slow. Steady. Approaching.
A shadowed figure appeared beside her. She couldn't see his face, only the faint glimmer of silver eyes cutting through the darkness. He knelt beside her, and she felt—not saw—the warmth of him hovering just above her chest.
"You called for help," the voice said, low and impossibly smooth.
"No one can change their fate… but you begged."
Her lips parted, trying to form words, but nothing came. She could only stare, drenched in rain and panic.
"If I spare you," he continued, voice closer now, like it was echoing inside her own chest, "it will not be without a price."
"Do you accept it?"
Through tears and shivering, she nodded. A desperate, fragile yes.
His hand pressed lightly over her heart. Warmth spread through her chest, then burst into fire that raced through her veins. Her vision blurred, the world spun, and she gasped—
—and woke.
Avalyn sat up in bed, lungs heaving. Sweat clung to her skin, her hair damp and sticking to her neck.
She couldn't tell how long she had been asleep. Her hand flew to her chest, as if she could still feel the echo of his touch. Her heart thundered against her ribs.
Something on the nightstand caught her eye. Black, sleek, and impossibly soft—a single feather. She froze, staring at it, the memory of silver eyes and whispered promises burning behind her eyelids.
"Rey…" she whispered, voice trembling.
The room was silent, but Avalyn couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't gone.
That he had been there—or maybe still was. And yet… had it all been a dream?
The feather in her hand, the warmth she had felt, the voice… it all felt impossibly real and impossibly unreal at the same time.
Somewhere, in the shadows of her mind, she knew one thing: whether dream or reality, he was not someone she would ever forget.