Eli woke with a start, his breath catching in his throat.
The dream clung to him like morning mist—soft and fleeting, yet so vivid he could still feel the weight of silk robes against his skin, hear the echo of footsteps down marble halls, and see the face of the man who stood at his side. Always the same man. Always watching him with eyes that carried both tenderness and sorrow.
Eli rubbed his forehead, frowning. "Why do I keep having these dreams?"
They weren't like normal dreams, the kind that faded into nonsense. No, these felt… real. Too real. The rustle of historical robes, the scent of old gardens, the brush of someone's hand—he could almost swear he had lived it before.
Shaking the thoughts away, he sat up in bed. Morning sunlight poured through the curtains, warm and ordinary. Just his plain little room, his books on the shelf, his school uniform hanging neatly by the chair.
Nothing royal. Nothing strange.
"Calm Down Eli,it's Just a dream," he muttered, swinging his legs to the floor. "
Still, as he prepared for school, Eli couldn't shake the lingering image: a man standing in the garden, hand outstretched, whispering something he could never quite hear before the dream ended.
By the time he walked through the school gates, Eli had buried the memory beneath the usual rhythm of the day—class chatter, notebooks, the sound of sneakers against polished floors. He tried to focus on the present. On reality.
But even then, in the corner of his vision, in the faintest echoes of memory, the man's face haunted him.
And though Eli didn't know it yet…
Reality was about to collide with his dreams.