chapter 18

THE DREAM ALWAYS BEGAN the same way. I found myself immersed in the inky abyss of emptiness. Opening my eyes, I was greeted by total blackness, so dense that it felt like a velvet curtain had fallen around my existence. I often wondered if this was what a void felt like—the absence of anything and everything. It felt like being marooned in an ocean of nothingness, devoid of color, shape, or form.

My feet padded against an unseen ground, the sensation cold like marble. I began to walk aimlessly in search of the one thing I knew existed in this black void—the house.

Despite the all-encompassing darkness, I could sense my surroundings. The air was still, so still it was as if time had stopped and had frozen in its tracks. The silence was deafening, my own heartbeat drumming a rhythm in my ears. My monologue echoed in the empty expanse, with each syllable I uttered lingering in the air before being swallowed whole by the oppressive silence. "Empty," I murmured to myself, the word bouncing back at me like a mocking echo. "So utterly empty."

I then waited for the Victorian house to appear. A tingle ran down my spine as I continued to wait. A cold shroud of dread settled around my shoulders. Suddenly, I felt a presence before I looked back. I reluctantly turned around, my heart pounding like a war drum in my chest.

I didn't see the house, though. However, he was there. I mean, of course it was the man who constantly pops in my dream. His features were as familiar as before as if nothing has changed. The moonlight, somehow weirdly present in this void, played on his face, casting shadows that danced around his nose, down to his strong jawline, and around his high cheekbones. His lips, framed by a newly grown mustache, curled into a familiar smile. His long and dark hair cascaded down onto his shoulders, an unruly waterfall that was so familiar.

He stood there, his silhouette outlined against the black void, wearing a blazer that seemed to absorb the darkness around it. The fabric had a sheen that gleamed under the ethereal light, making him look like a phantasmal figure straddling the line between dream and reality. His eyes, however, were the most captivating. They were a stormy mix of gray and green, swirling with an intensity that held an inexplicable allure. He looked at me, his gaze soft yet piercing, as if he were peering through my very soul.

And then he extended his hand. I hesitated at first, glancing at his outstretched hand, then back at his face. Shaking off my apprehension, I reached out, letting my hand fall into his. His grip was warm, a clear difference to the icy coldness of the emptiness. And as our fingers intertwined, the darkness around us began to shimmer, pulsating with an unseen energy.

I continued following him as he lead me somewhere. I squinted, and saw nothing aside from him. I glared at him intently and observed his feature, his face illuminated solely by the faint, ghostlike smile he was wearing.

"Who really are you?" I asked, my voice bouncing off the void surrounding us.

As if my frustration were a song to his ears, he didn't respond. Rather, he continued leading me somewhere in the almost endless darkness.

"Why do you keep appearing in my dreams?" my voice echoed, ricocheting off the unseen black walls of this dream world. "What is your connection to Lucy, Leo, Augustus, and Miss Alice?" I asked, my voice growing louder with each name, my mind painting their faces in the blackness. I could almost see them—images of my waking world imprinting themselves in this dream realm.

"Who are you?!"

He remained silent, as still as a statue, as if he were carved from stone. His only response was the soft whisper of his voice, cryptic words that floated through the oppressive darkness. "Everything will make sense, Prim. As much as I wanted to tell you everything, I just can't."

Frustration bubbled inside me, a simmering cauldron threatening to boil over. He was a cryptogram in human form, his every word a cipher waiting to be decoded. With a sigh, I closed my eyes, feeling the weight of my unanswered questions pressing down on me. I felt small and insignificant, a single star in a universe of infinite darkness.

"Who am I?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. "And why is my reality a question? Why do I feel like a stranger in my own life?"

The man remained silent, his faint smile the only break in the overwhelming darkness. As I stood there, eyes closed, the darkness enveloping me, I couldn't help but feel a sense of calm wash over me. Perhaps it was the silence, the tranquility of the void, and the emptiness of the abyss. Perhaps it was the man. Or perhaps it was me, asking questions to a man who might not even exist, seeking answers from a world that might be nothing more than a dream.

But as I opened my eyes, staring at the man, I felt a familiar crushing weight of despair and loneliness. I then paused, caught off guard, my tear-streaked face reflecting in the eerie luminescence of his eyes. Something about his presence—a deep resonance that echoed in the emptiness—stopped my sobbing.

I stood up, my legs shaky, and followed him. The darkness was thick as tar, wrapping around me like a blanket. Yet, it was in this desolation that we walked, his form a wraith-like warning fire guiding me through the murk.

As if a veil had been lifted, figures started to emerge nearby. They were like ethereal shadows, their forms wavering yet strangely comforting. A bizarre landscape unfolded before me: children playing, matrons assisting the young ones, and a massive Victorian house.

Among the children were a group of gifted beings, each with peculiar abilities that defied the normalcy of reality. A boy levitating a few inches off the ground, a young woman who could manipulate fire, darting sparks off her fingertips, an old man who whispered to the wind, the breeze responding to his hushed commands. I was no longer surprised at the sight, though. However, the man who led me here began to speak. His voice was a gentle rumble, like distant thunder, carrying an undercurrent of urgency.

"The entire gifted race is in danger, Prim," he said. His words hung in the air, a dreadful portent that cast a pall over the lively scene.

"The history of the gifted beings is traced back millennia," he added. As he talked, the shadows around us shifted, morphing into scenes from the past. The images were faint but vividly detailed, like watching a film projected on a smoky screen. I saw civilizations rise and fall, wars waged, and peace treaties signed, all under a timelapse.

"Our genes," he said, "are the sole reason why we are different from normal people." His voice was solemn, filled with a sadness that seemed to seep into the very fabric of the darkness around us. He showed me the gifted ones being hunted, persecuted, and seen as threats to be eradicated. The man's words continued to echoe in the stillness of the air.

As I stood at the edge of the abyss, my eyes swept over the tableau before me. The man beside me watched the gifted beings in silence. He seemed aware, like he had seen stuff pass by in the blink of an eye. His voice, when he began to speak again, was shaking. Maybe it triggered something in him—that, I do not know.

"Few years ago, the government discovered our existence," he continued, his voice an ethereal whisper in the vast nothingness. His hands, weathered and worn, gestured towards the playground that lay before us. "They tried to keep it a secret. They tried to eradicate us. A man formed an organization bound to exterminate all gifted beings—to kill them, experiment, torture, and hunt every single one of us."

I watched as he traced an invisible constellation in the air with his fingers, as if he were painting the story on the canvas of the universe. "CYGNUS," he said, pointing at a constellation up above forming a swan. "It was formed with a purpose to capture, study, and to steal away the very genes that granted us our extraordinary abilities."

He turned to look at me, and then his eyes filled with despair. He kneeled down before me, his knees sinking into the cosmic dust. The stars behind him seemed to dim, recognizing the gravity of the moment. "You, Prim, are our last hope. Our lives, our existence—it all depends on you."

His voice, laced with desperation, echoed in the vast emptiness. I could feel the weight of his words settle on my shoulders, the responsibility binding itself to my very essence. I opened my mouth, questions bubbling on the tip of my tongue, but before I could speak, he slowly dissolved.

"You are our salvation," he said.

But why me?

Slowly, the scene, the inky expanse, the stars—they all dissolved too, the surreal dream evaporating like mist under the morning sun. Suddenly, my eyes blinked open, the feeling from my dreams giving way to the raw reality of our journey. My heart slowly calmed down, and my breath started becoming stable. I stood up and rubbed my eyes, telling myself mentally, My dream came back again.

Why on earth am I dreaming of him again? And why would he tell me that I'm their salvation? An ordinary girl with no strength, no power, no nothing!

I shook my head, wiped my eyes, and sighed.

As I looked up, the first thing I saw was Sebastian, in his owl form, perched atop a skeletal tree that loomed above us. The tree was an impressive sight, its gnarled branches reaching out like the bony fingers of a giant and its bark, standing like a post against the darkness of the early morning.

Moonlit feathers gleamed, and his eyes, two blazing orbs of gold, were locked onto me, their gaze piercing through me. As soon as he saw me awake, he took flight. The silent swoop of his wings was like a whisper, so quiet that I can't even hear him flap his wings. With the elegance befitting an owl, Sebastian descended after a few seconds, landing lightly on the dew-kissed grass. In a blink of an eye, his owl form melted away, morphing into the familiar figure of the humanoid Sebastian. The transformation was swift and seamless, a scene that felt as if I was watching a movie. His dark coat fell into place, his yellow eyes sparkled with a familiar stare, and his stature was composed, replaced by the man with the head of an owl we all knew.

The noise of his transformation, however subtle, was enough to stir Ophelia. With a long stretch, she woke up, her eyes blinking open to look at the scene. She padded over to my side, her purr a soothing melody in the silence of the dawn. The commotion also roused Mamori and Bryce. They blinked sleep from their eyes, and their faces creased with the evidence of their abrupt rest. Mamori's short hair was tousled, and her eyes, which are usually filled with energy, had a softness to them. Bryce, on the other hand, woke with a yawn.

As the sun began rising, Sebastian arranged the stuff we cluttered around the ground as he picked up the litter we had. "We need to prepare," he said, his voice steady against the nascent day. "We continue our journey back to Miss Alice's home after our rest."

His words brought a sense of urgency to the lazy morning. The morning light filtered through the towering canopy, casting a dappled dance of shadows on the forest floor. As I stretched, I could feel the cool, soft moss beneath my fingers and the dewy leaves under my boots. The aroma of pine and damp earth filled my nostrils, reminding me of the delicate balance of life and decay that thrived in this forest.

Mamori, Bryce, and Sebastian were now fixing the things scattered on the ground, their faces illuminated by the flickering fire that crackled in the heart of our makeshift camp. Bryce then stomped on it, attempting to kill the dying coal in the campfire. I felt a gentle nudge against my leg, and looking down, I saw Ophelia. I chuckled softly, reaching for my plate to share a piece of my warm bread with her.

As we ate, our silence was filled with the chorus of the forest. The rustling leaves whispered stories in the breeze, the birdsong carried the melody of the wild, and the distant roar of a river added a rhythmic undertone. With the last crumbs of breakfast gone, Sebastian rose, brushing off his clothes with a few deft movements. "It's time we press on," he declared, his stern eyes scanning the thick woods around us.

We then continued walking. The path was a thread of compacted earth, winding through the trees like a snake. With Sebastian leading, we delved deeper into the emerald-green pathway, our footfalls muffled by the spongy forest floor.

Each step was a brush stroke on the canvas of our journey, painting us into the heart of the forest. The rustle of leaves under our feet, the snap of twigs breaking, the hush of the wind whispering through the treetops—each sound was a note in our walk back to the hidden academy.

As we navigated through the whispering trees, Miss Alice's home felt both far off and near, an elusive destination that seemed to shift with the forest. But with every step and every breath of the pine-scented air, I felt that we were close already.

And I wasn't wrong. After a few minutes into our traipse back from the forest, it came into view. A shimmering dome of luminescent energy bubbled up above. As my eyes adjusted to the refracted daylight, the sight of Miss Alice's home nestled within the protective bubble was nothing short of weird. The protective dome was an iridescent sphere that sparkled in the fading twilight. Its pulsating energy, usually invisible, was now visible. Maybe Miss Alice controlled it from the inside.

The dome's holographic surface danced with the colors of the setting sun, casting an ethereal halo around the house it cloaked, converting the ordinary into the extraordinary. Bryce, Sebastian, Mamori, and Ophelia paused, their eyes reflecting the awe-inspiring sight before us. But our moment of peace was abruptly broken; a part of the dome flickered, disintegrated, and out of it emerged a figure we all knew well: Miss Alice. Her face was etched with worry, the creases deepening with every step she took towards us.

Her jet-black hair was disheveled, and her dark-colored eyes were clouded with concern. She was a picture of maternal anxiety, but her usually vibrant demeanor was now replaced by a pall of worry that seemed to hang heavy around her. Her gaze flitted between Bryce, Mamori, and me, her eyes a silent appeal for reassurance.

"Oh, Bryce, Mamori, Prim," she called, her voice trembling like the wings of a hummingbird. "I was worried sick. Where have you been? Are you all okay? Have you eaten well?" she said.

Bryce and Mamori wrapped their arms around Miss Alice in a comforting embrace. Sebastian stood back, visibly affected by the display of affection but unsure how to respond. I, on the other hand, just stood there, my gaze locked with Miss Alice's as a sundry of emotions reflected in her eyes.

"Are you all okay?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper and her eyes imploring us for understanding and faith. But I didn't respond. My doubts formed a wall, an impenetrable barrier that kept me rooted where I stood.

"We're fine, Miss Alice. And we're sorry," Mamori said, and a smile formed in Miss Alice's face. It wasn't a smile of joy; rather, it was a smile of relief.

My heart battled my mind in that moment, trying to decipher the truth behind the tiny things I know. However, Miss Alice ushered us to enter the academy, and out came the others who were also waiting for our arrival: Augustus, Aria, Wallace, Eli, Lennox, Suzie, Billy, Molly, the Matrons, and lastly Noelle, whose eyes were darting daggers in my direction.

As I crossed the threshold into Miss Alice's home, a wave of anxiety washed over me, making my heart pound like a drummer's beat. The heavy mahogany doors behind me shut with an echoing thud, sealing me within the confines of this house.

A smile was painted on Miss Alice's face, but her eyes held a disquieting stillness. I couldn't shake off the feeling that she was hiding a world of stuff behind those eyes. Like pieces of a cryptic puzzle, they churned in my mind, refusing to form a coherent picture. The forbidden room, the photographs I took, Lucy, the man from my dreams—I know they were all connected.

And also, how can I forget about Mamori?

The grandeur of Miss Alice's house began to feel suffocating. Suddenly, the suspicion that Mamori might be concealing something was gnawing at my trust. Her recent behavior was not a coincidence anymore. There were times when I caught her avoiding my eyes, her usual warm smile replaced by a tight-lipped one.

But just as I was sinking deeper into my pit of thoughts, the icy demeanor of Noelle hit me like a gust of winter wind. She had always been cordial, if not warm, but her chilly acknowledgment on my presence was a distinct sign of her dislike towards me. Her hardened gaze bore into me, making me squirm under its intensity. A queasy uneasiness churned in my stomach, making me wonder what could have triggered this change.

***

The weight of the world was a heavy blanket clinging to my shoulders as if soaked in the mist of dew. But I'd always been the type to shake off the heaviness rather than let it pull me down. So, I did. I straightened my spine, stood tall, brushed off the lingering chill, and began my solemn journey towards Elliot's grave. Ophelia followed me as well, and I took her as she continued purring on my arms.

The path to Elliot's grave was as familiar as the lines of my palm. It snaked its way under the sprawling canopy of the old oak tree near Miss Alice's home. The tree, with its gnarled roots and sprawling branches, stood as a post, guarding the grave beneath like a protector.

I knelt down on the soft carpet of grass, the scent of damp earth and crushed leaves filling my senses. A single, fragile daisy sat in my palm, a ghost of a smile playing on my lips as I gently laid it atop the mound of earth that marked Elliot's grave. The petals were as pure as the first snow, the center a vibrant yellow, mirroring the sun. I then smiled as I patted his grave.

"Hey," I began, my voice barely above a whisper. "How are you doing there? Are you happy? Are you watching over me?"

The turquoise sky above, dotted with playful clouds, remained silent, my words swallowed by the universe. Of course, Elliot couldn't respond. Yet in some strange, inexplicable way, I felt heard.

Memories, like old film reels, began to play in my mind, transporting me back to a time when Elliot was still alive. I remembered the day he'd been saving up for that new shirt he'd seen in Mr. Desmond's shop, the one with the crisp white collars and the cornflower blue stripes. But when my birthday had rolled around, he'd chosen to spend the money in a different way.

I remembered that evening, as I'd trudged home from the streets, I'd been greeted with our rickety wooden table, adorned with a small, homemade cake. A few other food items, brought from the local market with what little money Elliot had saved, completed the spread. Elliot's eyes shone with anticipation, and in that time, my world was rich. And I couldn't help but smile.

Slowly, the memory faded, leaving behind a bittersweet aftertaste. The world around me blurred into a soft haze as I gradually returned to the present. I noticed a sudden warmth on my shoulders. My fingers grazed over the unexpected texture of a blanket. It was thick, plush, and held a comforting hint of perfume, a scent that was unmistakably Bryce's.

I turned my head, only to be greeted by him. The remaining sunlight draped itself over his broad shoulders, highlighting every curve and line of his shaped build. His hazel eyes, a captivating mix of gold and brown, were filled with concern and, perhaps, something else that I couldn't quite name.

"Bryce?" My voice trembled, a whisper in the encroaching evening.

"You might be cold," he said, his voice a soothing tone that echoed in the quiet surrounding us.

"Thank you." The words slipped from between my lips, softer than I intended. Despite the bouts of stubborn resistance I often put up, I was touched by his thoughtfulness.

He hesitated, then asked, "Can I... can I sit with you?" His question hung in the crisp air between us, a fragile request seeking acceptance.

My head bobbed in agreement, a simple nod that welcomed him. He folded himself onto the ground next to me. The grass beneath us rustled under his weight, and then he turned his gaze skyward, his eyes reflecting the pastel blue.

I found myself studying him—the way his brow furrowed ever so slightly, the way the corners of his lips tipped downward in a grimace of contemplation. He was a puzzle, a maze of complexities and contradictions that I found myself drawn to. Then, just as the sun began to rise, Bryce looked at me. Our eyes met. Time seemed to slow after that, each second stretching into an eternity as we held each other's gaze.

Compelled by an impulse I didn't understand, I leaned into him, wrapping my arms around him in a tight embrace. He stiffened, clearly taken by surprise. But then, slowly, he relaxed, his arms coming around me in a gentle cocoon. His heartbeat was a steady rhythm against my ear, a lullaby in the quiet evening.

"Thank you," I whispered again, this time not just for the blanket but for him, for his presence, for his silent understanding. Amidst life's unpredictable waves and the mystery shrouding the people living in Miss Alice's home, I hope Bryce is not one of them.

Then, I felt this warmth in my chest that I had never felt before—a flutter that somehow made me smile. Bryce's face popped into my mind, and his embrace right now made me feel at ease.