Devyn Marlowe was eight years old when he had his first vision.

It came without warning, like a thief in the night. One moment, he was sound asleep, the soft murmur of crickets outside lulling him into dreams. The next, he was plunged into a nightmare so real, so vivid, that it felt like he was living it.

Shattering glass. Screeching tires. His mother's scream, sharp, frantic, like something inside her had snapped.

He was in the backseat of their family car, his hands pressed against the smooth leather as the vehicle spun wildly.

His father's face was twisted in panic, his knuckles white as he gripped the wheel, struggling to regain control. His mother's hand flew out, reaching for Devyn as if she could shield him from what was coming, but her eyes betrayed her fear.

The car jerked violently to the side, the world outside the window blurring as they careened off the road. The sound of crunching metal reverberated in Devyn's ears, and then, silence.

The stillness was suffocating. Time slowed, each heartbeat dragging out like an eternity.

And then he woke up.

Devyn shot up in bed, his heart hammering in his chest, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His room was dark, save for the soft glow of his nightlight casting shadows on the walls. His blankets were tangled around him, damp with sweat. For a moment, he sat there, blinking into the darkness, trying to shake the remnants of the dream from his mind.

But it clung to him, the images too sharp, too real.

The dream was unlike any he'd had before. He could still hear the screeching tires, feel the way the car spun out of control. His mother's scream echoed in his ears, haunting, as if it were more than just a figment of his imagination. He wiped his forehead, his fingers trembling. He'd always had an active imagination, but this… this felt different.

He swallowed hard, his throat dry. His small hand reached for the glass of water on his bedside table, but he paused, listening. It was too quiet. Something felt wrong, though he couldn't explain why.

Sliding out of bed, Devyn tiptoed down the hallway, the hardwood floors creaking beneath his feet. He headed for his parents' bedroom, his heart still racing, his mind replaying the dream over and over. With each step, the unease in his stomach grew, twisting into a knot of dread.

He knocked on their door, barely a whisper of sound, and when there was no answer, he pushed it open.

The bed was empty.

His breath caught in his throat. They weren't there.

His stomach churned as a sickening thought formed in the back of his mind. What if…

He ran to the front window, his fingers fumbling with the curtains. Outside, the street was still, the early morning air cool against the glass. But their car was gone. The driveway was empty.

A cold chill swept through him, prickling the back of his neck. He stared at the empty space where their car should have been, his small fingers gripping the windowsill. The dream surged back to the forefront of his mind, the screeching tires, the scream. His heart pounded in his chest as panic set in.

No… no, no, no…

He ran to the phone, his hands shaking as he dialed his mother's cell. The line rang, each ring twisting his stomach tighter, his pulse thundering in his ears. There was no answer. He called his father next, again, no answer.

Time seemed to crawl as he waited, as if the very air had thickened, making it hard to breathe. Then, finally, the phone rang. Devyn nearly dropped it in his haste to answer.

"Hello?" His voice was shaky, almost a whisper.

"Is this Devyn Marlowe?" The voice on the other end was unfamiliar, calm in a way that felt wrong.

"Yes…" Devyn's mouth was dry. "Where's my mom and dad? Are they okay?"

There was a pause, too long, too heavy.

"I'm very sorry, Devyn," the voice said slowly. "There's been an accident…"

The words blurred together, lost in the storm of emotions that crashed over him. He barely registered what the person was saying. His parents were gone. The dream, his dream, had come true.

---

Devyn stood at their graves, staring at the fresh dirt that covered his parents' coffins. He felt numb, empty. The air was cool, but he couldn't feel it. The world around him moved on, people whispered condolences, cars drove by in the distance, birds chirped in the trees. But to Devyn, it was like watching it all through a fog. Everything was distant, muted.

At eight years old, he didn't have the words to explain what had happened, but he knew it wasn't a coincidence. The dream had been a warning, one he was powerless to stop. His parents were gone, and all he was left with was the sickening knowledge that he had seen their fate before it happened.

He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms.

The nightmares started again that night.

---

For years, the dreams came in fragments. Small accidents, inconsequential disasters. They plagued him at random, sometimes in the middle of the night, other times in the quiet moments of the day when he thought he was safe. He saw flashes of cars crashing, people tripping down stairs, trees falling during storms. Nothing major, nothing world-altering. But each one felt like a knife twisting in his chest, a reminder of what he couldn't stop.

He never told anyone. Who would believe him? How could he even explain it?

And then, when he turned eighteen, the dreams began to shift.

They became clearer, sharper, and far more frequent. No longer were they glimpses of minor accidents or inconsequential events. Now, the visions were more vivid, nightmares that left him drenched in sweat, gasping for air. The world in his dreams was unraveling, falling apart piece by piece.

And then, one night, the vision hit him like a tidal wave.

---

Devyn stood on the edge of a crumbling city, his heart pounding in his chest. The ground beneath him trembled, cracking open like an old wound. Fissures spider-webbed across the earth, splitting the streets apart. Buildings groaned, collapsing in on themselves as fire erupted from the sky, raining down like the wrath of some vengeful god.

Screams echoed all around him, panicked, desperate cries that chilled him to the bone. People ran, scattering in every direction, but there was nowhere to go. The earth was splitting apart, and from the gaping cracks came something… else.

Dark figures rose from the depths, monstrous forms crawling out of the shattered ground. Their hulking bodies were covered in jagged armor, their eyes glowing with an unnatural light. They towered over the ruins, their limbs moving in slow, deliberate motions as if savoring the destruction.

Devyn's breath caught in his throat as one of the creatures turned its gaze toward him. Its eyes burned with a cold, malevolent fire, and for a moment, he couldn't move. He couldn't think. His heart pounded in his chest as the creature let out a guttural roar, shaking the ground beneath him.

The sky darkened, a swirling mass of storm clouds blotting out the sun. Lightning flashed, illuminating the horrors below as more creatures crawled from the depths. The world was breaking, tearing itself apart at the seams, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.

Devyn gasped, his body drenched in sweat as he jolted awake, his chest heaving. He was in his bed, the familiar sounds of the night settling around him. But the vision,the nightmare, clung to him, sharp and terrifying in its clarity.