Sia.
Her name echoed through the room before her eyes even opened.
"Sia… wake up. You're going to be late for class."
The voice was soft. Familiar. Real.
She stirred beneath warm blankets, her body heavy, her mind strangely fogged — like she had been dreaming something important… something emotional… something she couldn't quite reach anymore.
"Five more minutes, Mom," she murmured, turning her face into her pillow.
Her mother laughed quietly. "You said that ten minutes ago."
Sunlight filtered through the curtains, warm and ordinary. No silver skies. No ruins. No collapsing worlds. Just her bedroom — posters on the wall, textbooks on her desk, laundry chair piled too high.
Normal.
She opened her eyes.
For a moment, something flickered in her chest — a strange ache, like the aftershock of a dream that had meant more than it should have.
But it faded.
Sia sat up slowly, brushing her hair from her face. "What time is it?"
"Eight-thirty," her mom replied. "And your first class starts at nine."
Sia froze.
"Oh my God — Mom!" She shot out of bed, grabbing her phone. "Why didn't you wake me sooner?"
"I did," her mom said calmly. "You argued with me in your sleep."
Sia blinked. "I… did?"
"Yes. Something about a storm… and a boy," her mom teased.
Sia's heart skipped — not in panic, but in confusion.
"A boy?" she repeated.
Her mom shrugged. "Dreams."
Sia forced a laugh. "Guess my brain is weird."
But as she rushed into the bathroom,
brushing her teeth with hurried movements, that strange heaviness returned.
Storm.
Boy.
Why did those words feel… important?
The campus buzzed with life.
Students rushed across walkways,
backpacks slung over shoulders, coffee cups in hand, laughter echoing between buildings.
Sia walked among them, blending in perfectly — just another college student heading to class.
She should have felt normal.
She told herself she was normal.
Yet something felt… off.
Not wrong. Not broken.
Just… missing.
She reached her literature class and slid into her usual seat near the window. Her best friend, Emily, leaned over.
"You look like you didn't sleep."
"I did," Sia said. "I just… had a weird dream."
Emily smirked. "Let me guess. Tall guy.
Mysterious eyes. Trauma."
Sia rolled her eyes. "You're impossible."
But her chest tightened.
Tall.
Mysterious.
Why did that description feel… close?
The professor started lecturing, but Sia
found herself staring out the window instead.
The sky was blue.
Normal blue.
Not silver.
Not storm-lit.
Not fractured.
She blinked.
Why had she expected it to be anything else?
Later, she sat alone in the campus café,
notebook open, untouched coffee growing cold beside her.
Her pen hovered over the page.
What was I dreaming about?
She tried to remember.
But every time she reached for the memory, it slipped away — like trying to hold water in her hands.
All she was left with was a feeling.
Loss.
Not heartbreak.
Not grief.
Just… absence.
Like someone had erased a chapter from her life — and left behind only the echo.
She shook her head. "Get it together, Sia,"
she muttered. "You're being dramatic."
Still, she couldn't focus.
Her phone buzzed.
Emily: Lunch later?
Sia typed back: Yeah. I'll meet you.
She stood up — and nearly dropped her notebook.
As she bent to pick it up, her fingers brushed against something tucked inside.
A folded piece of paper.
She didn't remember putting it there.
She opened it.
It was blank.
No words.
No message.
Nothing.
Yet her chest tightened — as if something should have been written there.
Something important.
Someone important.
She stared at the empty page longer than she should have.
Then she folded it again and slipped it back into her bag.
That night, Sia lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.
Her room was quiet.
Too quiet.
Her phone lay beside her, screen dark.
She should have been scrolling.
Watching videos.
Texting someone.
But she wasn't.
She felt… restless.
Her mind kept circling something just out of reach.
She closed her eyes.
And for a split second — just one — she saw him.
A boy standing in golden light.
Storm-gray eyes.
A hand reaching toward her.
Her heart jolted.
She sat up suddenly, breath uneven.
"What… was that?" she whispered.
Silence answered.
Her room looked the same.
Her life was the same.
College. Family. Friends.
Nothing had changed.
And yet…
Her chest hurt.
Not in pain.
In recognition.
Like her heart remembered something her mind refused to.
She pressed her palm over her heart.
"I feel like… I forgot something," she
whispered to the empty room.
No answer came.
Across worlds…
Kai stood alone in the ruins of what used to be a gateway.
The Veil was closed.
The air was still.
Her presence — her light — was gone.
But his memory of her was not.
Not even close.
"She's alive," he said quietly to the empty world. "I know she is."
The world did not respond.
But his heart did.
And it was not done searching.