Jesse pulled over to the side of the road as we approached and consulted his father’s map. He traced a route with his finger, and his mouth moved as he whispered calculations under his breath. After a brief review, he shook his head, “There’s no way around it. The city is the only way to get through to Butte. The mountains on either side are too steep to travel by motorcycle. All the major roads lead directly to downtown, so we’ll have to leave the highway and skirt the edge of town through neighborhoods.” He met my gaze, his eyebrows drawn gravely together. “We should ride through fast, without stopping.”

​

Doubt had settled in like a resident in my mind. Was it wise to cross the dead countryside, following the cryptic directions of a man who called himself a wizard? I wondered if staying in Richland would have been better than losing our lives. Shadows flitted through the skeletal buildings in the distance.

​

“Do you expect trouble?” I asked, seeking reassurance as my eyes scanned the city ahead for threats. The dark, empty windows peered back at me hungrily. I withheld the questions I wanted to ask. Wouldn’t it be best to turn around now? At least Richland was safe.

​

“Yeah, I do. Any survivors out here would be gathered in places like this, protected from the elements. Your bike is noisy, and it’s valuable. If we stop, we’ll be sitting ducks.”

​

“I wouldn’t mind the delay if we had to go around.” I did my best to sound casual, but my nerves were on high alert after what we’d just been through.

​

Jesse’s expression softened apologetically, reading me with the ease of a long-time friend. “I don’t think the long route is viable - we only have enough supplies for a week at most. And, in the end, it would be a gamble. There’s no reason the next pass through the mountains would be any safer than this one.”

​

I took a deep breath and turned my gaze back to the road we had traveled, remembering everything behind us. I wasn’t ready to think about it, but I knew there was no going back. Not yet. And that meant the only path was forward.

​

We both agreed it would be best if I took the driver’s seat as I had the most experience handling the bike. Jesse showed me the map, but it didn’t inspire much confidence. A note from Jesse’s dad read 'CAUTION!' in block letters. Beneath it, the path through the mountains to Butte was visible, but the map’s scale lacked the necessary details for planning our route through the city. 

​

Ultimately, navigating my way through the city wasn’t particularly difficult. I managed it reasonably well by following my innate sense of direction while staying as close to the outer edge of the suburbs as possible. 

​

Jesse’s intuition was spot on. As we passed through streets where the buildings grew more dense and concentrated, we began to see signs of habitation, though it was evident that the city now supported only a fraction of its former population. The recently constructed fences were high and built with a surfeit of barbed wire. Signs warning away trespassers were painted bright red, promising horrifying consequences to intruders. In one neighborhood, a human skeleton hung as evidence of their seriousness. 

​

The grotesque aggression turned my stomach, and I had to steady my hands on the handlebars. Jesse leaned over my shoulder, saying something drowned out by the engine noise. It sounded reassuring, and I was warmed by the effort, even if I missed the message.

​

Just as I thought we were safe, a trio of ragged figures emerged from behind a barricaded alleyway ahead of us, blocking our path. 

​

Shit!

​

I brought my bike to an abrupt halt several yards away from them, turning in an uncontrolled slide for a few feet and kicking a small cloud of dust into the air. The engine was still running, and I glanced at Jesse, his face tense, before turning my attention back to the triad.

​

The central figure, an enormous goliath of a man, stepped forward, rapping his open left palm with a rusted metal pipe. Wild, unkempt hair and tattered clothes framed a face and body slashed with scars, reminders of a lifetime of conflict. 

​

Behind him, a wiry middle-aged woman clutched the hilt of a knife still sheathed in her belt and scanned us with a sharp, predatory gaze. Creases deeply lined the corners of her eyes.

 

The third figure, a much younger man with a shaved head and various piercings, began to circle us slowly, a menacing grin spreading across his face.

​

I cursed myself under my breath as fear tightened in my chest. Coming down this narrow street had been a mistake. Stopping had only compounded it.

​

Jesse’s grip tightened at my waist as he addressed them, “Hey there. We’re not here to make any trouble; just passing through to Butte.”

​

“Don’t see many travelers,” the goliath grunted, his voice dry like sandpaper. A scar pulled one corner of his mouth into a contorted grimace. 

​

I raised my empty hands and showed them my palms, struggling to keep the quiver out of my voice. “We don’t want any problems.”

​

The woman chortled, her laughter mocking and cruel, “Oh, you won’t have any problems here... as long as you make it worth our while.” She nodded to the young scavenger, who had begun to edge closer to Jesse. He grinned back, his fingers twitching near his belt. Ready to move.

​

Fuck! He’s flanking us.

​

I looked at Jesse, hoping to see a plan in his eyes. “We... we don’t have much.”

​

“Just let us go,” Jesse said with a greater degree of strength than I had mustered. He sounded calm and assuring, but I could hear the tension in his voice. “We won’t bother you.”

​

The woman’s smile vanished. “You’re free to go... but the bike stays.” 

​

My mind froze. I had no answer. There were no words that could rescue us from this situation.

​

Then something shifted in my peripheral vision. A black shape alighted on the rusted remains of a lamppost. 

​

The raven. 

​

It perched above us, its glossy features ruffled in agitation.

​

The young man lunged. 

​

But Jesse was ready. Leaning back for leverage, he drove his boot into the scavenger’s gut, sending him sprawling into the dirt.

​

An ear-splitting screech ripped through the air as the raven launched itself from its post, a smudge of black slicing through the air toward the old woman. 

​

“Fucking hell!!” She swore, stumbling back as the bird’s talons raked her cheek. She pressed her palm to a narrow scratch across her cheekbone while the goliath’s gaze followed the bird as it disappeared into the sky. 

​

It was gone as quickly as it arrived, but it was enough. 

​

“Drive!” Jesse barked. “Now!”

​

Reflex took over. I twisted the throttle, and the wheels spun, spitting up gravel before finding purchase. As we jerked into motion, the goliath turned back, swinging his metal pipe in a wide arc and missing my head by inches. 

​

Behind me, the woman screamed curses in fury. Then… THUD! A flash of silver as a knife embedded deep in the wooden siding of an abandoned shop ahead of us, still quivering from the force of the throw. 

​

We didn’t look back.

​

I raced through the narrow streets as fast as the bike could carry us. A frantic rush of energy pulsed through my veins, sharpening my senses as I maneuvered around obstacles.

​

Jesse’s voice broke through the rush of wind, “We’re good, Heather. We’re good!”

​

Though relieved, I didn’t slow down until we were well beyond the city limits.

​

I was grateful when the urban trappings gave way to the wooded peaks of the Rocky Mountains, but I took us several miles beyond the last human structure before I pulled over for a break. Even Jesse was unusually silent as he produced a pair of ham sandwiches from his backpack. I could see his hands trembling as he unwrapped them. 

​

We sat next to one another on the grass and ate in silence, each of us lost in our thoughts. I stared blankly at the red-tinged mountains before us, eating the offered sandwich reflexively but without registering the flavor. 

​

Jesse finally broke the silence, “You’re a good driver.” His words were a statement, but there was an underlying question. He wanted to be sure I was ok.

​

“I shouldn’t have stopped. I should have kept going.”

​

He was quiet for a few heartbeats, “You didn’t know, and you got us out fast.”

​

I didn’t have the energy to argue with him, but I forced a reassuring smile as he passed me the canteen.

​

After that, there were no more words as we each unpacked the events of the morning. Perched on the branch of a gnarled old tree above us, a raven kept watch, its keen eye following every movement of the bread in our hands.

​

​

​

​

​

The drive through the mountains to Butte offered a lovely respite from an otherwise overwhelming day. The updrafts cleared the red haze, giving us a rare glimpse of a clear sky. To either side of the highway, tall fields of green grasses faded into an ombre of aqua as the fields rose into mountains, the distant peaks cast in a subtle light blue. Clusters of bright orange wildflowers dotted the landscape, a vibrant contrast to the encroaching evergreens. Beyond occasional damage to the road, no trace of destruction from the prior battles could be seen. Nature, more resilient than we are by far, had come back in full force, obscuring the scars of war under layers of abundant flora.

​

The clouds crowded back in as we approached our destination, and the eye-watering red tinge returned to the air. Our once lush surroundings gave way to sheared orange and yellow hillsides, remnants of decades of copper mining. The outskirts of Butte were barren, the soil long contaminated by copper sulfides that had seeped into the groundwater, leaving the land desolate.

​

As we neared, we took frequent breaks for Jesse to consult the map. The path had been relatively easy as long as we had traveled along the highway, but when the coordinates took us away from major roads, it became difficult to determine precisely where we were to go. At times, Jesse returned to a nearby road, trying to triangulate our destination point from the surrounding highways. We investigated a few abandoned homes, hoping to find the safe house described by the man on the radio, but the buildings were empty, save for cobwebs and rodent droppings.

​

We had just finished searching through the third such place, an isolated, faded ranch. As I closed the door, we heard a loud shout from a forested area in the backyard. “Hey! Help! I need help!” The voice was strong, filling the space between the trees. As I searched for the source, a man called, “Over here! Here in the tree!”

​

I squinted and spotted movement higher up in one of the oaks. I could barely make out something suspended from one of the branches in the waning light. 

​

“Jesse…” I said under my breath, pointing at the dark shape in the tree.

​

“I see him,” Jesse replied, his eyes already trained on the figure.

​

We hesitated with uncertainty, wary of a trap. But the man had seen us from his position. “Look, I can’t hurt you. I’m stuck up here. And we haven’t got a lot of time. The sun is setting. Please don’t leave me here. It won’t take you long to cut me down.”

​

I caught Jesse’s eyes and nodded toward the man in the tree. “We should help,” I muttered quietly. 

​

Jesse nodded, retrieving a pocket knife, but before he moved forward, I grabbed his elbow. When he turned to look at me, I struggled for words. 

​

“Be careful,” I finally said.

​

His lip quirked in a small smile, and he gave me a reassuring wink before leading the way.

​

We could see the man more clearly in the fading light as we approached. He looked like a military surplus model, fair-haired, green-eyed, with broad shoulders, and dressed head to toe in durable camouflage. He hung by his ankles from a rope, his tawny head swinging about six feet off the ground. His arms were free, and he struggled to pull himself up to untie the knot. The branch from which he hung groaned under his weight, and when he relaxed, he swung precariously. “See? I can’t get loose. My weight keeps the knot tight. I can’t untie it.”

​

“Who are you, and how did you get up there?” I was always ready with the obvious questions.

​

He held out his empty hands to signal he was no threat. “Listen, the sun is about to set.” He gestured at the sky. “I’ll tell you anything you want, but I need to get down, and then we need to get somewhere safe. I’ll do whatever you need me to do. Just trust me.”

​

Jesse's eyes fell on mine, reading my expression and searching for signs of hesitation. Seeing none, he nodded and turned back to the man, “Hang on, I’ll climb up and cut you loose.” With that, he approached, circled the trunk until he found a sturdy handhold, and pulled himself up. As he reached the branch, he made his way across to the rope, laying flat while he moved hand-over-hand.

​

I pushed away visions of him falling to the ground and breaking his neck. Looking away, I focused on the stranger instead. 

​

“If we cut the rope, won’t you fall?” I called up. 

​

The man grunted in response and, with impressive core strength, curled his torso upward, folding at the waist to grasp the rope. Jesse cursed as the branch wobbled precariously in response. 

​

As the branch stabilized, the man panted, “Give me your hand.” 

​

Jesse braced himself, reached down, and clasped the man’s hand, pulling him up until the man could grab the branch. “Thanks,” The stranger gasped, breathless, while Jesse worked the knot with his knife.

​

“Got it!” Jesse exclaimed. As the rope unraveled, the man dropped his feet, still grasping the branch tightly in his hands. Pausing a moment to orient himself, he released the branch and fell to the ground in a crouch to break his fall.

​

He didn’t take a single moment to pause before he was off.  Long strides carried him to a big pile of ash. He shoved his hands deep, pulling out small objects which he hastily shook off and pocketed. As he ran to another pile and repeated the process, he asked, “Do you have a spot? We can use the cellar right over there, but we need to move now.” He looked up at Jesse, who was still climbing down. “We should go.” He grabbed a backpack hidden in some brush and half-ran back to the ranch house. “Hurry!” he called over his shoulder.

​

I turned to Jesse, who had just dropped to the ground, and shrugged, “I guess we follow?” 

​

Jesse seemed uncertain but nodded. “I don’t want to come across whatever managed to hang that guy up. Plus, it’s getting dark.”

​

“You were pretty awesome right there.” I thought it should be said. “I’d probably have fallen out of the tree.”

​

His lips curled into a small smile, but he said nothing as we followed the man around the corner of the house. When the stranger came into view, he was already working on prying open two cellar doors that led beneath the home.

​

“This should do it. I scoped it out before I got caught in that trap.” And then, under his breath, he added to himself, “like a jackass.”

​

As he descended into the cellar, Jesse and I started to speak at once before I gestured for him to go first. “What exactly are you doing here? Who set that trap?”

​

The man paused on the steps and gestured to the sky, now nearing dark. His expression was incredulous, but as we remained quiet, awaiting an answer, he simply stated, “Vampires.” 

​

The word hung in the air before he continued, “Listen, I’m going in, and I’m boarding up now. You should join me.”

Jesse and I shared a glance. It should have been unbelievable, but nothing was out of bounds today. 

​

“What about our stuff?” I asked Jesse quietly. We had tucked the bike away when we set out on foot to investigate the ranch house, but we had essential gear stored in the saddlebags. He tapped his backpack with a self-satisfied smile. 

​

“Well, alright then. You think of everything.” 

​

“Are we back at one?” His question hinted at a return of his easy-going humor.

​

“Don’t push it.”

​

I peered into the cellar and descended the stairs with Jesse on my heels. We had scarcely passed the threshold when the stranger shut the door and barred it behind us, having already lit an oil lamp in the room below.

​

The basement was coated in cobwebs, and ash had been free to accumulate for some time. Old storage bins were stacked along one wall, and aging furniture crowded the remaining space. A couch, covered with a sheet to protect it from the dirt, had been set on its side to conserve space. I carefully pulled back the sheet, but as I pushed the couch onto its legs and against the wall, I still managed to launch an ash cloud into the air.

​

The stranger checked the door's strength by ramming his shoulder and thick upper arm against it before leaning a chair against it as a brace. He stepped back, eyeing it in contemplation. 

​

“It’ll have to do,” he muttered. The flickering lamp cast sinister shadows on his face, yet there was something gentle in his voice. As he pulled a crossbow-like contraption out of his bag, he asked, “I gather you have no experience fighting vampires?”

​

Jesse and I exchanged a look, both shaking our heads.

​

With a strained smile, the man cleared his throat and extended his hand to Jesse, “Thanks for your help out there. I’m Rex Lewis, from Garrett, Maryland.” 

​

The name sparked a memory, and I superimposed the face of the boy from my dream over the man standing before us. The similarities were striking: the same kind eyes, square face, pale hair; even the dimples appeared in the same spot when he smiled. But this “Rex” was at least ten years older, with a dark gold beard and mustache framing a mature jawline.

​

I scanned his eyes for any hint that he might recognize me, thinking I might have caught a glimpse of something, but it was gone before I could be sure.

​

Jesse shook his hand, “Jesse Davis.” He gestured to me, “And this is Heather Jones.”

​

I reached out and clasped Rex’s hand in mine. “Nice to meet you.” It felt strange to offer such a common greeting in such extraordinary circumstances, but I couldn’t think of anything more clever. Mundane politeness would have to suffice, even when meeting a person I’d prophesied in a dream state. “You’re from Garrett? That’s quite a coincidence.” Garrett was home to the Maryland Loop facility. “We’re from Richland, Washington. Just left there this morning.”

​

“Ahh… the West Coast Loop,” His brow furrowed briefly as his eyes narrowed, and he asked carefully. “How are things in the Tri-cities?” 

​

“They’re… good,” I replied lamely. What do you say about the home where you’ve been held prisoner via mind control for the last ten years? “I mean… there are no vampires there,” I added, the words feeling strange as I spoke them. Vampires felt like something out of one of Jesse’s movies, not something that could be lurking outside our door.

​

“Well, you’re not in Kansas anymore.” He said with a kind smile. At that, a loud thump on the cellar door echoed through the room. A second thump sounded, the door shuddering and displacing a thick layer of dust into the air. I instinctively stepped back, retreating further into the room, while Rex, clutching his strange weapon, eyed the door as it shook. After several rounds of assault from the other side, he seemed satisfied. 

​

“It’ll hold,” he offered me a dimpled smile of assurance.

​

As the pounding and snarling continued, he stepped away from the door and settled on one of the storage bins. I watched as he sorted through his bag, comparing him to the boy in my dream. The man before us was disciplined and efficient in his movements, hardened by life. I hoped the wholesome boy I had met the night before was somewhere underneath the mounds of baggage earned through a decade of difficult experiences. Chances were good. There are people who can light up a room with a single smile. Despite knowing him only minutes, I could see that Rex was one.

​

Seeing him in front of me raised so many questions. Had the boy in my dream been a mere premonition of the man I had just met? If so, whose dream had I truly entered—his or mine? Or both? There was an undeniable sense of “truth” to what I had discovered behind the Horn Gate, but I didn’t understand its meaning or purpose.

​

I was broken from my reverie as radio static filled the air. At first, I looked at Jesse, assuming he’d retrieved his father’s shortwave radio, only to find him watching Rex intently. Noticing my glance, Jesse met my eyes pointedly and lingered a moment before returning his gaze to our new friend, who was turning the dials of his radio. Rex's brows were drawn together in concentration and he seemed to be struggling to find anything but white noise.

“Is it a Sony?” Jesse asked, reaching his hand out tentatively.

​

Rex paused in his work, a polite smile spreading on his face. “Sure is. Do you know about these things? This one’s been giving me problems.” At Jesse’s nod, he leaned back, silently indicating his consent. As Jesse picked up the radio, he continued, “It’s been having trouble picking up reception.”

​

“A pre-Energon unit.” Jesse ran his hands across the plastic casing, “It could be that some wiring has come loose, or the antenna maybe, but more often than not, with these old units, it’s the battery.” He opened the bottom compartment and tapped the batteries into his hand. “Have you replaced them recently?”

​

“Well, yes, I have, though they’re hard to come by…” 

​

Jesse cut him off with an enthusiastic addition, “Ah! This is it. You’ve got some corrosion built up here in the terminal. See here?” Rex leaned in closer as Jesse carefully cleaned the contacts with his thumb and then pushed the batteries back in.

​

“You must be a big fan of pirate radio,” I commented, hinting at the coincidence too striking to ignore. It seemed almost impossible that we’d find someone else out here with a shortwave radio so close to the safe house, wherever it may be.

​

Before he could answer, the radio crackled to life in Jesse’s hands, and the voice of the Wizard broke through the static:

 

“... It’s 9 PM, and THIS is thirty-three seventy-five kilohertz, the heartbeat of the rebellion. 

​

“In 1971, the beloved singer-songwriter, John Denver, released an enduring favorite that became an unofficial anthem of West Virginia. This is ‘Take Me Home, Country Roads.’ Remember, rebels, the road ahead is dark, but it’s the only way home.”

 

A chill ran through me as the words echoed in my mind, bringing with them the memory of Ricky’s voice in my dream: I’ll find you on the dark road. My breath caught, the pieces falling into place with sudden certainty. 

​

“You’re following him too, aren’t you, Ricky?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

​

Rex’s eyes met mine, the answer evident in his gaze.

​

Jesse raised an eyebrow but didn’t question me as I told Rex what we were doing out here. But, if I was expecting a surprised response from Rex, I didn’t get it. He merely nodded as if he’d already suspected.

​

“Yeah.” He said simply. “I was looking for the safe house, too, when I got myself caught in that damned vampire trap.” He brushed the back of his fingers against his jawline and shook his head. “Should’ve known better.”

​

His words carried an edge of self-reproach. Did he always hold himself to such high standards? I wondered how often he’d had to learn lessons the hard way.

​

Eventually, as the night grew long, we settled into a comfortable silence. Rex stretched out on the ground in a corner, resting his head on his backpack, a camouflage hood pulled over his eyes. He hadn’t stirred for some time. 

​

“You should take the couch. I’m going to stay up.” I offered to Jesse, moving across the room to take Rex’s prior position on the storage bin. I’d slept more over the last few nights than I’d had in a long time.

​

Jesse had been eyeing the floor for a spot large enough to lie in that was also out of the way of traffic. He crossed his arms and stared me down. 

​

“No, absolutely not. You’ll need your rest for the ride tomorrow. Just…” He glanced at Rex, “Just make your preparations like last night. Things went fine. And, worst case, we’ll deal with any problems that might… materialize.”

​

I felt like I should object, but I didn’t have the energy for a debate. 

​

“Alright,” I lied, intending to keep my eyes closed only as long as it took for Jesse to fall asleep. “But the couch is big enough for both of us. You take that side over there,” I stretched out on the cushions with my head on the opposite end and gestured to the narrow space on the sofa beside my legs. “There’s room for your legs here, see?”

​

With an assessing glance at the hard floor, Jesse nodded curtly and settled across from me. I shifted to give him as much room as possible, but the space between us remained limited. Accustomed to reading before bed, I pulled out the book on lucid dreaming, but I couldn’t concentrate. The slightest brush of his leg against mine sent a jolt of awareness through me, making me hyper-conscious of every inch of space between us. I turned a page, flicking my eyes up from the book, stealing a glance at him, but he seemed relaxed, eyes closed. The only indication he was still awake was the tension in his jaw when another bang resounded from beyond the cellar door.

​

I flipped through several more pages without registering the words; my thoughts pulled elsewhere. Finally, I took out The Book of Oneiroi, hoping to focus my restless mind.

​

What do you have to say about all this? I wondered as I opened it to a random page and tilted it toward the flickering light of the oil lamp. 

​

A fanciful illustration, reminiscent of a children's storybook, spread across both pages. On the left, a dark, sinuous road wound into a graveyard, the gates overgrown with tangled vines. The path led deeper, circling a crypt crowned with a statue of an aeronaut, striking a heroic pose in the basket of a hot air balloon. From there, the road swooped to the right into the tentacled grasp of Icelos, his sharp claws, and massive teeth tearing into it with monstrous satisfaction.

​

Is this a hint or a warning? I asked in thought, unsure if Phantasus could hear me but confident, regardless, that a graveyard was in our future.

​

I was dreaming, but I didn’t realize it was a dream. 

​

​

​

​

I was light, unfettered by the pull of gravity, and unbound by the constraints of flesh. My being thrummed in harmony with a song that only existed in my dreams. I wanted to cling to the delicious euphoria, but as his lips pulled away from mine, I felt the warmth slipping away. Even as he withdrew, I was left with the sensation of aching sweetness. His gentle exhale of breath, a tantalizing caress on my lips, was the last vestige of that bliss. Jesse.

​

But as he stepped back, cold crept in, darkness twisting around us. A harsh beam of light, stark and unforgiving, sliced across his face, deepening the shadows under his eyes and hardening his features. His eyes turned icy, knives in the gloom, and his tender expression contorted into a snarl of disgust.

​

“You’re an abomination,” he spat out his words like venom.

​

“... an abomination,” echoed in the chilling voice of my Aunt Emily. Shocked, I released the hold my mind had on him, and the dream pulled him away, leaving me alone in the room where I had last seen my aunt. 

​

My bedroom wasn’t how I’d left it. The shadows were alive, creeping across the floor and walls, pulsing like a heartbeat. My childhood treasures loomed menacingly, warped by the darkness that writhed within them and hid behind them. 

​

I caught sight of my reflection in the window and stared into the eyes of my mirror self. I wasn’t of this world—I was something else, something uncanny and twisted in ways I couldn’t fully grasp. I was monstrous. Spidery fingers of horror crawled up my spine, and tears welled in my eyes as my reflection sneered back at me.

​

“Squalling brat!” My aunt's voice spilled from my reflection’s mouth, filling the room as tears slid down my cheeks.

I tore my gaze away from the window that had become a mirror, only to find myself surrounded by glass reflections, each more terrible than the last: I was the coward, the negligent niece, the lazy student, the self-obsessed child. I was unlovable. My reflections stared back at me, twisted by every fear I’d ever had.

​

I ran, desperate to escape myself, desperate to hide in the void that closed in from every side. I sprinted down the endless corridor between my childhood bedroom and kitchen, the inky blackness encroaching with each step. The further I ran, the more I felt it: a presence, terrible and vast, on the verge of manifesting. Shadows danced around me, whispering appalling truths. I couldn’t look at them; I couldn’t listen; I could only run. The great beast was seconds behind me. If I slowed even a moment, he would be upon me.

​

Suddenly, she appeared—my Aunt Emily, standing at the end of the hallway, bathed in warm, golden light that banished the surrounding gloom. My frantic flight slowed, my steps faltering, yet the distance between us closed as her heart pulled me closer. 

​

As I neared, her face began to change, aging rapidly with each passing second. Her features twisted into something grotesque: her hair thinned and darkened, her nose and chin lengthened into sharp points, and her skin took on a sickly green cast. She had become the epitome of a storybook witch, eyes filled with cruel malice.

​

She reached out a gnarled hand to grasp me. I stepped back instinctively, and she spasmed, slapping her own cheek with such force that her head whipped to the side. When she turned back to me, it was my Aunt Emily again, with her honeyed hair and sun-kissed cheeks. She smiled, warm and familiar, and reached out to me again, but this time in love. I stepped forward to embrace her, and a breeze stirred around us, smelling of linen and vanilla. Her kind eyes held mine, and in them, I found forgiveness. 

​

But then the happiness drained from her face. Her eyes widened, filling with fear and sorrow. She whispered, “He’s come,” the words hitting me like a physical blow.

​

It had all been a trick! He had trapped me, lured me with what I desired most! 

​

Prickling static crawled over my skin, the air thick with the charge of an impending storm. Something vast and terrible had found me. Shadows flowed around my ankles, coiling around me, seeking to drag me under.

​

I was out of time.

​

Primal instinct ignited my veins. My wings snapped open, and I launched myself skyward just as shadowy claws raked through the space where I had stood a heartbeat before. A sharp pain lanced down my back; I hadn’t escaped unscathed.

​

But I was gone. I tore through the sky, soaring away from the oppressive darkness.

​

Around me, a cool mist drifted serenely in all directions, scattering diffuse gray-blue light. I flew through an endless twilight, drifting as my furious heart slowed. I yearned to return to that earlier ecstasy, but I couldn’t find my way back, and the memory of it flittered out of my grasp like a butterfly.

​

After a time, I saw a twisting black line in the distance—a dark road cutting through the vast miasma of undefined space, where few rules anchored reality. I peered closer, my vision telescopic in this strange space, and saw that the road was composed of vast numbers of winged spirits, much like myself. They flocked in a chaotic yet elegant cloud, churning and shifting through various organic shapes, forming this singular, ordered road. Drawn to them, I entered the stream of dreams, letting myself go as the flock carried me with it like a river.

​

Ahead, the polished Ivory Gate loomed—the exit from this realm, I presumed. But as it drew closer, I noticed that it wasn’t the dreams alone that passed through. A half-dozen wingless phantoms stood at the portal, pushing their way through a fissure-like crack I hadn’t seen when I stood on the other side. Before I could examine them further, the current of winged spirits pushed me out of the Ivory Gate and back into its twin.

​

​

​

​

​

I found myself locked in a fierce struggle, and I was losing. My strength was waning; my thighs burned from a sustained crouch, and my stomach ached from repeatedly throwing my weight forward. My legs trembled, feet shuffling beneath me, but my energy was spent. No matter how hard I pushed, my opponent effortlessly blocked my path. 

​

Finally, I surrendered to my body's demands, standing upright to stretch my sore back. I made another half-hearted attempt to push past her, but I failed to gain any ground as she blocked me again.

​

“You need to keep your center of gravity low, Heather,” she said, frustration evident in her voice. We were at the center of a large grassy field, flanked by bleachers and surrounded by a circular track. “You can’t just keep standing up like that; you’ll get knocked on your ass.”

​

“I can’t do it!” I protested, stepping back and raising my hands in exasperation. “My butt is killing me, and there’s no way I can move my feet when everything hurts.” With a dramatic groan, I dropped to the grass and fell backward, staring at the sky.

​

Her blonde hair and freckled nose filled my vision as she leaned over me, sunlight catching the amber flecks in her brown eyes. She wore a football jersey with "Blake" stenciled above the number 19, the fabric soft and thin from use. There was a warm glow to her skin, her beauty enhanced by the daylight. She was as made for the sun as I was for the dark corners of libraries. “You just need to keep practicing. It’ll be worth it if we encounter anything like that creepy clown guy again.”

​

What would happen if she realized I had no idea what she was talking about? She knew my name, but like Ricky in my dream last night, I did not know her. “Can we take a break? It’s insanely hot.”

​

She sighed, sitting down beside me in the grass. “Why don’t we stop for today? We can work on it again tomorrow.”

“... for sure.” My breath was still labored from our exertion, and I breathed in deep gulps of air. I was physically exhausted in this dream, yet my mind clung to the memory of everything I’d experienced before. So much had been given to me, only to be lost, and I’d faced so many truths about myself that I didn’t want to see. Tears welled in my eyes.

​

“So stupid!” I muttered, jamming the heel of my palms into my eyes. Water leaked around the edges and spilled onto my cheeks.

​

All was silent until she spoke again, “Hey, you better stop saying mean things about my friend! You’re not stupid.”

​

Just a squalling brat, I thought, but I couldn’t bring myself to say it aloud. I couldn’t talk about Aunt Emily. Or Jesse.

​

“What’s wrong?” She asked, her voice gentle as the moment stretched on.

​

I swallowed the knot in my throat and choked out, “I’m a coward.”

​

“I don’t think courage is your problem.” She was blunt, but there was kindness in her tone.

​

“Oh? What’s my problem then?” My voice was hoarse as I pulled my hands away from my face to look at her.

​

She twisted her lips as she weighed her words, “Courage is taking action despite your fear. You do that every day. Your problem is you need to be bolder. More… audacious! Screw those ass-butts and their stupid ideas of how you should be, of WHO you should be. Be insolently, authentically, you. That’s what I think.”

​

Her words struck a chord, and I found myself silent, absorbing her advice. I didn’t know this girl, but she seemed to know me.

​

“I’m not always brave, you know,” I admitted, swallowing hard. “I ran away once, and someone else… someone innocent, they… they paid the price.”

​

The girl looked down at me, her golden hair reflecting hints of red in the sunlight. Her small hand rested on mine. “Surviving isn’t cowardice, Heather. And whoever they were… whatever happened to them… it isn’t your fault. Whatever you were running from… that’s what’s to blame. Don’t feel guilty that you lived, and don’t own responsibility that isn’t yours. You were the victim, not the perpetrator.”

​

Her words sank deep into my heart, her ideas resonating with a force that left me in awe. Who was this girl? 

​

Just as I began to absorb the depth of her wisdom, a sudden chill brushed against my skin, snapping me out of my reverie. My breath caught as I turned to my left, searching for the source. Something cold and wet brushed my cheek, and before I could react, a dark tendril slithered into view.

​

Panic seized me as I whipped my head back to find her, desperate to assure myself of her safety. But instead, a dripping maw rimmed with sharp teeth loomed before me, obstructing my view. Its hot breath steamed against my cheeks, the humidity plastering my hair to my forehead as the creature screeched a challenge inches from my face. Darkness and agony engulfed me.

​

I jolted awake, heart pounding.

​

I didn’t even have a chance to ask her name.