The dream never asks for permission.
It just comes.
Slowly at first, like a shadow creeping along the edges of my mind, and then all at once—pulling me under until I can no longer tell where sleep ends and memory begins.
And every time… it takes me back.
Back to the day everything changed.
Back to when I was four.
I am standing in the registration hall again.
Even before I see it, I feel it—the cold. It seeps into my skin, into my bones, wrapping around me like invisible chains. The air is thick, heavy, as though the room itself is holding its breath.
I look down at my hands.
Small. Soft. Trembling.
A child's hands.
My chest tightens. I don't want to be here. Not again. But the dream doesn't listen. It never does.
The hall is larger than I remember. The walls stretch high above me, carved with ancient symbols I still don't fully understand. Shadows cling to every corner, darker than they should be, as if they are alive—watching, waiting.
The villagers are already gathered.
They line the walls in silence, their faces half-hidden beneath the dim glow of flickering lanterns. But I can feel their eyes on me. Heavy. Judging. Expecting.
"Bring her forward."
The voice cuts through the silence like a blade.
The official stands at the center of the room, his long robes brushing the floor. His face is pale, almost ghost-like, his eyes fixed on me with an intensity that makes my stomach twist.
My mother's hand tightens around mine.
"It will be over soon," she whispers, but her voice betrays her. It trembles, fragile and uncertain.
I look up at her. Even as a child, I notice it—the fear she tries so hard to hide. The way her smile doesn't reach her eyes.
Behind us, my father says nothing. But his presence is like a wall—rigid, tense, unyielding.
We step forward.
Each footstep echoes too loudly against the stone floor.
The bowl is already waiting.
It sits on a carved pedestal, its surface smooth and dark, filled with water that doesn't look like water at all. It's too still. Too clear. Like glass… or a mirror.
The enchanted water.
My fate.
I try to pull my hand away. Just slightly. Just enough to delay what I know is coming.
But my mother holds on tighter.
"It has to be done," she murmurs.
The official reaches for my hand. His fingers are cold—colder than the air, colder than anything I've ever felt.
Then—
The sharp sting.
I gasp as he pricks my finger. A small sound, barely noticeable, but in the silence of the hall, it feels deafening.
A single drop of blood forms.
Bright. Red.
It trembles at the tip of my finger before falling—
Drip.
The moment it touches the water, everything changes.
The surface ripples, slowly at first, then faster. The clear stillness breaks apart, light flickering beneath it like something trying to escape.
The villagers lean in.
I can feel it—their anticipation, their fear, their curiosity.
This is the moment that decides everything.
The water begins to glow.
Soft at first… then brighter. Silver light swirls within it, twisting and folding in on itself. Shapes begin to form, dissolving before they can be understood.
My heart pounds.
Even in the dream, I feel it—the strange pull, like something deep within me is reacting to the magic.
Then…
The letters begin to appear.
One by one.
Slowly. Deliberately.
As if whatever is writing them wants to be seen.
D…
A pause.
E…
The room is completely silent now. No one breathes. No one moves.
R…
My mother's grip tightens painfully.
I…
My father steps closer, his shadow stretching over the bowl.
C…
Something feels wrong. I don't know how I know—but I do.
K.
The name settles into the water.
Derick.
For a moment… nothing happens.
Then everything does.
A sharp gasp breaks the silence.
"No…"
"That's not—"
"It can't be!"
The whispers explode, filling the hall like a storm. Fear ripples through the crowd, fast and uncontrollable.
"There's no one by that name!"
"Check the records!"
"This is wrong!"
My heart starts racing, even though I don't fully understand why. But I feel it—the fear spreading, reaching for me, wrapping around my small body like invisible hands.
My mother drops to her knees beside me.
"No… no, this isn't right," she whispers, her voice shaking as she stares into the water. "It has to be someone else."
My father steps forward sharply. "Read it again," he demands.
The official hesitates. That alone is enough to make the room fall into uneasy silence.
Slowly, he looks back into the water. His face tightens.
"It hasn't changed," he says quietly.
The words hit harder than a shout.
"It says… Derick."
The silence that follows is worse than the noise.
Because this time…
It's filled with fear.
"There is no Derick in Hibistrious," an elder finally says, his voice heavy with certainty. "There never has been."
A chill runs through me.
If he isn't from the village…
Then where is he from?
My mother pulls me into her arms suddenly, holding me so tightly I can barely breathe. "It's a mistake," she insists, more to herself than anyone else. "It has to be a mistake."
But no one agrees.
Because in Hibistrious…
There are no mistakes.
The water suddenly trembles again.
Not gently this time—violently.
The light inside it flickers wildly, the silver glow darkening, twisting into something deeper… something wrong.
The name distorts.
The letters stretch, bending unnaturally, like they're alive.
Gasps fill the room. Someone stumbles back.
"Stop it!"
But no one is touching the bowl.
No one is controlling it.
The water darkens further—until it's no longer silver… but black.
And then—
I see it.
Not clearly. Not fully.
Just a glimpse.
A shape beneath the surface.
Eyes.
Watching me.
My breath catches.
The eyes don't look human.
They glow faintly in the darkness, fixed on me with an intensity that sends fear crashing through my chest.
And then—
A voice.
Soft.
Barely there.
But I hear it.
Calling.
My name.
I try to scream—
And I wake up.
My body jerks upright, a gasp tearing from my throat as I clutch my chest. My heart is racing wildly, my skin damp with sweat despite the cold night air.
The room is dark. Quiet. Normal.
But I'm not.
I press my hand against my chest, trying to steady my breathing. It was just a dream.
But it wasn't.
Because every detail is too clear. Too real.
That day… it happened exactly like that.
The whispers.
The fear.
The name.
Derick.
I swallow hard, pulling my knees to my chest. The villagers never forgot. Even years later, I still hear it sometimes—the way they lower their voices when I pass, the way they look at me like I'm something they don't understand.
Something they don't trust.
My parents tried to hide it. To pretend everything was fine.
But I see it.
In the way my mother watches me when she thinks I'm not looking.
In the way my father's voice tightens whenever the Dark Forest is mentioned.
They're afraid.
Afraid of what that name means.
Afraid of what I might become.
Because if the boy I'm meant to marry doesn't exist in Hibistrious…
Then he must exist somewhere else.
A soft sound drifts through the silence.
My head turns slowly toward the window.
The Dark Forest stands in the distance, its towering trees blending into one endless shadow. Even from here, I can feel it—that pull. Stronger than ever before.
My breath catches.
The voice from the dream…
It felt real.
Too real.
And for the first time, a thought forms in my mind—quiet, terrifying, impossible to ignore.
What if the name in the water…
Was never meant to belong to this village?
What if…
It belongs to something waiting in the forest? 🌑
And what if…
It's been waiting for me all along?