Mischief Dreaming

I didn't sleep.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her walking away. The ring. The crack in her eye. The way she told me to move on.

But when sleep finally did come, it wasn't rest.

It was...

Something else.

—

I didn't sleep.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her walking away. The ring. The crack in her eye. The way she told me to move on.

But when sleep finally did come, it wasn't rest.

It was...

Something else.

The dream wasn't mine.

The meadow was there, but wrong.

I was in our clearing, the one past the wildflowers, near the old rock we'd claimed as ours. The place above the city where we used to sit and watch the world go quiet.

But now, it felt hollow. Off.

Too still. Like a photograph.

The grass didn't move. The wind didn't stir. Mist hung motionless above the soil, and the forget-me-nots that circled the rock bloomed too wide, too blue, like someone had painted them from memory and gotten the shades wrong.

I turned to look at the city below.

The towers were still there, lit and gleaming. But something was missing.

I stared harder.

The Citadel.

Gone.

The obsidian shard that should have split the horizon was just… not there.

No spire. No shimmer. No echo of where it had stood.

Just clean sky.

As if the world had never cracked at all.

And then I saw her.

A girl sat on the rock at the centre of the clearing, the field now covered in forget-me-nots.

Her right eye shimmered like frozen moonlight. The left... something in it reminded me of Cayos. A knowing. A game already halfway played.

Over that eye, just above the cheekbone, a faint scar curved downward, not across the eye itself, but the skin. A scar so light I hadn't noticed before.

She smiled. Wide. Crooked.

Mischievous.

"Clinging to ghosts? Tsk. You'll break something like that," she said, voice like bells cracking under laughter.

"Who are you?" I tried asking, but no words came out.

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out. My own breath felt foreign, like I was just borrowing it.

The sky behind her split like glass. Her grin widened.

"You want names?" she asked, head tilting.

"I am the Veilweaver. The first laughter. The last lie."

She winked.

"But you can call me Vaelith. Everyone does, eventually."

She twirled a forget-me-not between her fingers, gaze flicking past me, past the dream. Like she was seeing something far away.

"Tell him…"

Her voice softened.

"Tell him that I miss him."

The sky cracked like a mirror.

"Tell him I remember."

The world broke.

And I fell.

And for just a moment, I didn't want to wake up.

—

I woke with my heart in my throat.

The light from the window caught on the mirror across the room, and for a second, I thought I saw a crack running through my reflection.

But when I blinked…

Just me.

Just the room.

Just the weight of a name I didn't know.

But something about the moment stuck.

I kept thinking about what Anya once said, curled on the couch in my hoodie, voice half-lost in sleep:"What if dreams aren't dreams? What if they're waiting for us to remember them?"

I'd laughed at the time.

Now… I wasn't so sure.

—

Morning light barely touched the rain-slicked windows.

The Gate's low hum buzzed beneath the city like a heartbeat.

It was probably flying high again today.

Far above whoever it had taken.

I padded into the kitchen, bleary-eyed and half-dressed.

Lyra stood by the counter with her usual cup of coffee, scrolling something on her phone with a faint look of boredom. The light from the screen flickered across her face like something fading in and out of focus.

Dad had probably already left for work.

She looked up.

"You look like hell," she said.

"I didn't sleep."

She didn't joke this time. Just raised her mug in quiet acknowledgment, then, without looking, grabbed a second cup from the rack.

I frowned.

She started to pour the coffee.

I grabbed a glass and stood at the sink, letting the cold water run over my fingers for a few seconds before filling it.

"Hey," I said after a beat, not quite looking at her. "That new guy. Cayos. What do you know about him?"

She didn't answer right away. Just added exactly one sugar, stirred once, added milk, then slid the mug across the counter toward me.

The foam had a pattern drawn in milk. A leaf, maybe. Or a heart. I'd forgotten she could do that.

I didn't touch it.

Just sipped from my water instead.

When I finally glanced up, her expression had shifted, flat, wary. The kind of look she saved for arguments she thought might already be lost.

"Why?" she asked.

"I don't know," I said, too quickly. "He just… said something weird. Something about the Reverie. Made me think."

"Right," she said, voice tightening. "You only start worrying when I talk to someone you can't control."

"What? No. I wasn't..."

"You don't need to pretend it's about something else, Dio."She crossed her arms, coffee forgotten.

"I know that look. It's the same one you get anytime I breathe near someone you haven't vetted like a bodyguard."

"That's not fair."

"Isn't it?"

The scent of coffee clung to the air. Bitter, grounding.Thick enough to sting.

It should've helped.

But all it did was make my head throb.

I tried again, quieter.

"I'm just asking what you know about him. That's all."

She shook her head.

"You don't get to ask like it's neutral. Like you haven't spent the last two years screening every guy I so much as looked at sideways."

Her voice wasn't angry. Just tired.Frayed.

"I'm not trying to control you," I said. "I just..."

The words caught.

How do you explain a gut feeling carved from a dream? How do you say he felt wrong without sounding like you're breaking?

"I just think... you should be careful."

Lyra blinked. Her mouth tightened.

"I'm not dating him, Dio. I gave him my number because he didn't know anyone."

"I know."

My voice barely made it out.

And I hated how much it sounded like an apology.

"I have to get ready for school."

She turned and walked out of the kitchen.

I didn't stop her.

The silence that followed felt heavier than it should've.

I stood there for a while, gripping my glass, trying to swallow whatever this was.

Then the dizziness hit.

Maybe coffee wasn't such a bad idea after all.

I looked down.

The heart in the foam had collapsed... blurred into pale rings.

Just cold coffee now.

I sighed as I took a sip.

As if warmth could still be salvaged from something already gone.

—

We drove to school in silence.

Rain tapped the windshield.

Everything outside the car looked blurry.

Distant.

The shine of the Citadel loomed in the distance, gleaming like it didn't belong to the same world.

Its Gate had already chosen someone this morning.

I just didn't know who.

I wanted to say something. Anything.

But every word felt too small for what was coming.

So I stayed quiet.

"You gonna tell me what happened with Anya?"

Her tone was light, but I could feel the edge beneath it.

I gripped the wheel tighter.

"It's nothing."

She looked out the window like she didn't believe me.

But she didn't push.

Just like always.