Name: Maria
Age: 22
A Art student..
Behind the moon, there's a planet called ,Etheria
At least, that's what people say. A planet that hides truths no telescope can ever pierce.
A world where stories are whispered but never proven.
A mystery that slips through every measured fact like smoke.
Maria never cared about whispers. She was an ordinary girl, with ordinary nights... until the dreams began.
For weeks now, she had been trapped in the same haunting vision. A silver-haired girl, half-hidden behind veils of shadow and light, lingered in her sleep. Sometimes the girl sat beneath shelves of books, her pale fingers tracing words Maria couldn't read. Sometimes she curled up beneath a sky of fractured glass, breathing softly as though afraid to wake in her own dream. And sometimes—on the nights Maria woke with her pillow damp—the girl cried, so quiet and broken that Maria's own heart cracked with her.
Maria didn't understand. She couldn't.
"Why?" she whispered one night into the empty darkness, staring at her reflection in the mirror above her desk. Her brown hair was a tangled mess, her eyes ringed with sleepless shadows. *"Why do I keep seeing her?"*
Her answer wasn't silence. Not this time.
That night, as the dream pulled her under again, the silver-haired girl sat beneath the endless shelves… and somebody's voice called gently across the shadows.
"Arika."
Maria opened her eyes with a gasp, sitting upright in her bed. The name burned against her chest like fire. It was seared into her memory, undeniable.
*Arika.*
The certainty of it shook her. This wasn't just a dream. It couldn't be. *Her name is Arika.*
Maria pressed a hand against her chest, feeling her heart thunder. A part of her—the part she had always ignored, the restless flutter that never left her—whispered that she wasn't imagining this. That Arika truly *existed.*
Days drifted by, but Maria carried the name like a hidden flame, burning brighter each time she thought of it.
At university, she sat with her friend in the library. Books lay open between them, their pages forgotten as Maria's pen moved across her notebook, drawing again. Without meaning to, she had sketched the same silver-haired girl, her pale eyes melancholy but breathtaking.
Her friend leaned over and blinked.
"Whoa… she's so pretty. Who is she?"
Maria paused, her cheeks warming. "I don't know. I just… keep seeing her in my dreams."
Her friend tilted her head, amused. "Did you meet her somewhere before?"
Maria shook her head. "No. I've never seen her in my entire life."
A playful grin spread across her friend's face. "Then why does she keep popping up in your dreams, huh? Don't tell me she's a ghost or something."
Maria gave a weak laugh, though her grip on the pen tightened. "No. I don't think Arika's… a ghost."
Her friend raised her brows. "Wait—you even know her name?"
Maria hesitated before whispering, "Last time, in my dream… someone called her Arika."
Her friend's grin widened, dramatic mischief in her eyes. "Maybe she's the lover from your previous life, come to haunt you again."
Maria's eyes widened in shock. "What are you even saying?"
Her friend burst into laughter, waving off the tension. "Relax, I'm just kidding! Don't look so scared."
But Maria didn't laugh this time.
Because deep down, she was certain of one thing.
This girl—Arika—was no joke.
To be continue