The world was burning.
That was the only way to describe it. The sky, usually a tapestry of clouds and blue, had been torn open, bleeding a violent shade of crimson and charcoal. Skyscrapers, once proud monuments of human achievement, were crumbling like sandcastles against a rising tide of black fire.
There was a sound, too—a deafening, high-pitched screech that felt less like noise and more like a physical pressure crushing his skull. In the center of the inferno, amidst the falling debris and the screams that seemed to echo from everywhere and nowhere at once, stood a silhouette.
He couldn't make out the face. The figure was shrouded in shadows that seemed to pulse with a life of their own, devouring the light around them.
Stop, the dreamer tried to scream, but his voice was gone. He felt paralyzed, forced to watch as the silhouette raised a hand, and the very fabric of reality seemed to warp and snap. He didn't understand what he was seeing. Was this a war? A natural disaster? Or something far more ancient and terrible?
The silhouette turned. It looked directly at him.
"Max!"
The world shattered. The red sky dissolved into white plaster, and the roar of destruction was replaced by the aggressive whirring of a ceiling fan struggling against the heat.
"Max! If I have to call you one more time, I'm pouring water on you!"
Max gasped, his body jerking upright in bed. His heart was hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird, and his t-shirt was clinging to his back, soaked in cold sweat. He blinked rapidly, his eyes darting around the room.
There was no fire. No crumbling buildings. Just his messy desk piled high with unfinished homework he had ignored for the summer, a poster of a rock band peeling slightly off the wall, and the harsh, golden morning light streaming through the window.
He rubbed his face, his hands shaking slightly. "Just a dream," he muttered, his voice raspy. "Just a stupid dream."
He was seventeen, and his biggest worry should have been passing his math make-up exams or figuring out how to talk to girls, not apocalyptic nightmares that felt heavy enough to crush his lungs.
"Max!"
"I'm up! I'm up!" he yelled back, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.
The floor was cool against his bare feet, grounding him. He shuffled out of his room and down the hallway, the smell of burnt toast and fresh coffee greeting him.
His mother was in the kitchen, furiously scrubbing a pan while simultaneously keeping an eye on the news playing on the small television in the corner. She looked back at him, brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead.
"Look at you," she chided, though her eyes were warm. "Sleeping until noon. It's summer vacation, Maxwell, not hibernation season."
"It's ten-thirty, Mom," Max groaned, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl and taking a loud crunch. "And don't call me Maxwell. It sounds like I'm in trouble."
"You will be if you don't help me out today," she said, wiping her hands on a dish towel. She reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a crinkled piece of paper and a few banknotes. "I need you to run to the market. I completely forgot to buy spices and vegetables for dinner tonight, and your aunt is coming over."
Max looked at the list, then at the bright, punishing sun outside the window. "In this heat? Can't I go later?"
"Now, Max. Before the good vegetables are gone." She pressed the money into his palm and turned him toward the door. "Go. And don't forget the receipt!"
Max sighed, the lingering dread of the nightmare finally fading under the mundane annoyance of chores. He grabbed his sneakers and stepped out of the house.
The heat hit him instantly, thick and humid, smelling of asphalt and blooming jasmine. It was a typical, boring summer day in a world that felt perfectly, safely ordinary. Max stuffed the list into his pocket and started walking toward the market, The mid-morning sun was blazing by the time Max reached the market square. It was a chaotic symphony of shouting vendors, honking scooters, and the earthy smell of raw produce.
"Max! Over here!"
He turned to see a familiar trio waving at him from near the juice stall. It was Malina, Ady, and Aren. Seeing Malina made his step a little lighter; she was wearing a bright yellow sundress that seemed to defy the oppressive heat, her blue eyes crinkling as she smiled.
"I didn't know you guys were out," Max said, jogging over to them.
"Ady wanted to look at video games, and Aren is just following Ady," Malina teased, dodging a playful shove from Aren. "What are you doing? punishment chores?"
"Something like that," Max sighed, pulling out his mother's crumpled list. "Vegetable run. You guys mind tagging along? It's boring doing this alone."
"Lead the way, Chef Max," Ady laughed.
They moved through the stalls, the group chatter distracting Max from the lingering unease of his nightmare. He found his regular stall and got down to business.
"I need two kilos of potatoes, please," Max told the vendor. He checked the price board. That came to $1.50.
Next were the eggplants. He picked out the firmest ones. "Three kilos of these." That added another $2.00.
"And capsicum?" the vendor asked, wiping sweat from his brow.
"Five kilos," Max said, reading the last item. "Mom's making a huge batch of stuffed peppers for the guests." The capsicum was the most expensive part, totaling $4.60.
Max did the quick math in his head—$8.10 total. He pulled the crisp $50 note his mother had given him and handed it over. The vendor counted out the change—$41.90—and handed it back along with a scribbled receipt.
"Mission accomplished," Aren said as Max loaded the heavy bags into his arms. "Now let's get you home before you melt."
They began the walk back to Max's neighborhood. The noise of the market faded, replaced by the rhythmic buzzing of cicadas. They were laughing at a joke Ady made about a teacher at school when it happened.
...Max...
The sound didn't seem to come from the air; it felt like it was whispered directly inside his ear canal, cold and sharp.
Max stopped dead in his tracks. "Who said that?"
Malina stopped and looked at him, confused. "Said what?"
"My name. Someone just whispered my name." Max spun around, scanning the street.
At the corner of the block, where the shadow of a large building stretched across the pavement, he saw it. A figure. It wasn't just a person standing in the shade; it was a mass of darkness that seemed thicker than the surrounding air, swaying slightly like smoke in a draft. It looked exactly like the silhouette from his dream.
"There," Max pointed, his voice trembling. "That shadow at the corner. Do you see it?"
Ady and Aren squinted. "Max, that's just a trash can," Ady said, sounding concerned.
"No, beside it! It's watching us!"
Malina stepped closer, placing a hand on his arm. Her touch was warm, grounding. "Max, there's no one there. It's just an empty street. Are you okay? You look pale."
Max blinked, and just like that, the figure dissolved. It was just a normal shadow cast by a utility pole. The whisper was gone.
"I... yeah," Max stammered, adjusting the heavy bags to hide his shaking hands. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just the heat, I guess. Didn't sleep well."
They walked him to his gate in awkward silence. Max said a quick goodbye, avoiding Malina's worried gaze, and rushed inside.
"Mom, I'm back!" he called out, dumping the bags on the kitchen counter.
"Just in time!" his mother replied from the living room. "Put the change on the fridge!"
Max did as he was told and hurried to his room, closing the door behind him. He leaned against it, exhaling a breath he felt he'd been holding for ten minutes. I'm going crazy, he thought. First the dream, now hallucinations.
He walked over to his study table to collapse into his chair, but he froze.
Lying perfectly centered on the messy desk, right on top of his unfinished math homework, was a piece of paper. It hadn't been there when he left. The window was closed; the door had been shut.
His heart thumping in his throat, Max picked it up. The paper was heavy, textured like old parchment. In elegant, sharp handwriting, it read:
If you want to know about the whispers that you heard, meet me at 16 Halland Street, Shop No. 5. You will get your answers.