"What do you wanna be when you grow up, son?" Davin asked, his voice warm, his hands rough from a lifetime of hard work resting on the worn wooden table. The dinner wasn't fancy—plain white rice and boiled vegetables—but the love in the small home made up for what it lacked in wealth. Family was their greatest treasure.
"He's gonna be a great businessman one day, honey," Angela chimed in, her tone hopeful. "And he's going to make so much money we won't have a worry in this world. Isn't that right, baby?"
Hound hesitated, his small hands gripping his spoon tightly. "I had another nightmare, Mom. I'm scared." His voice cracked as he pushed the rice around on his plate. "I was… I was a bad person."
Davin smiled, soft and reassuring. "Come here, big boy." He opened his arms wide, but Hound shook his head.
"It's okay, Dad. I know they're just dreams. Like you always say," Hound mumbled, shoving another spoonful of bland rice into his mouth.
Angela's smile softened as she watched her son. "Take a walk with me after dinner, sunshine," she said. "We've got some things to talk about."
"Without me? What are you two plotting?" Davin teased, earning a rare smile from Hound.
Later that evening, on the edge of an abandoned building, the wind rustled through the leaves of a nearby tree, carrying with it the fading hues of the setting sun. The red tint of the sky cast a warm glow over Angela and her son as they sat together, their legs dangling over the edge.
"Baby, I know your dreams scare you," Angela began, her hand gently stroking his curly hair. "They scare me too. Maybe we avoid talking about them because we don't know what to say. But I want to be better for you. So, tell me—what happened in this one?"
Hound leaned into her shoulder, his voice small and hesitant. "Puck and I were by the river. He was telling me about a girl he liked."
"Oh?" Angela asked, her voice light, trying to ease his nerves. "Did he now?"
"Yeah, he said she's really pretty," Hound said, a faint smile breaking through. "But I told him she's too pretty for him and from a house, so… there's no way trenchers like us would have a chance."
Angela chuckled. "Way to lift his spirits, son."
"I know, I know," Hound admitted sheepishly. "But Puck said he'd prove me wrong. So, we snuck into her house to talk to her."
"You do know that's illegal, right?" Angela teased, pinching his cheek playfully.
"Mom, it's just a dream. I can't control it!" Hound exclaimed, frustration creeping into his tone.
"Fair enough. Continue," she urged, her smile returning.
"We waited in her room. When she came in, Puck asked her to be his girlfriend, but she called the guards. They dragged us out. And then…", Hound's face saddened, "And then they said that behavior is unacceptable and for the damages we caused to her mental health, we need to enroll in mortal combat. We didn't do anything to her, we just wanted to know how she felt about Puck",
Angela's smile faded as she wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close. "What happened next, baby?"
"Hound wiped at his tears, but they kept coming. "Dad and Puck's dad… they were just farmers. They didn't stand a chance. They both died in front of us." His sobs came harder now, his body trembling against hers. "Then they made us slaves. Puck's mom couldn't handle it—she ended her life the first day. And you… you worked yourself to death trying to take care of us –until you died from overworking two years later."
"Oh, sweetheart," Angela whispered, holding him tightly. "I'm so sorry you had to see that."
"Mom, are we going to be okay?" Hound asked, looking up at her with wide, tear-filled eyes. "Puck asked me to hang out by the lake today. What if it happens?"
Angela paused, brushing a tear from his cheek. "What if… you don't go? Would that change things?"
"I don't think it matters," Hound said, his voice trembling. "Every dream ends the same. Everyone dies, except me and Puck."
Angela stilled as a cold wind swept through. "And the other dreams? Was there any way to stop it?"
"There was… one," Hound admitted hesitantly. "But it's impossible."
"What was it?" Angela pressed, her voice steady despite her growing unease.
Hound's tears streamed down his face, each one seeming to burn like fire against his skin. As the weight of his emotions overwhelmed him, a strange sensation coursed through his body—a deep, pulsing warmth that started in his chest and spread outward, consuming him. His breathing grew uneven, shallow gasps punctuating the silence.
Angela's comforting grip on his shoulder faltered as she noticed his skin changing. The rich, warm brown tone began to shift, darkening unnaturally, like ink spilling across parchment. It wasn't just a shadow—it was as if the very light in the air was being absorbed into him. His skin took on a matte black hue, smooth yet otherworldly, as though he were no longer entirely human.
"Ronnie…" Angela whispered, fear flickering in her voice as she cupped his face. But the heat radiating from his cheeks made her pull back in alarm.
Hound's hands trembled, his fingers curling into fists as his fingernails grew sharper, resembling obsidian shards. His eyes, once soft and brown, now shimmered silver, glowing faintly against the dimming sunset. The metallic hue seemed alive, swirling faintly with unspoken emotion and power.
The wind around them seemed to respond to his transformation. It whipped violently for a moment, scattering leaves and dust into the air, then quieted suddenly, as if holding its breath.
Angela backed away slightly, her fear and concern written plainly on her face. "Ronnie… my baby… what's happening to you?"
Hound's voice came, deeper and reverberating, as though layered with another presence. "I think… this is why I see the dreams, Mom.
"I don't think they're just dreams" Hound said, his voice trembling as though each word bore the weight of a lifetime. "I've tried to convince myself they weren't real, but… I see it so clearly, over and over again. No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try to change things, you all die. All of you. Except for me and Puck." His glowing silver eyes flickered with anguish as he struggled to meet Angela's gaze. "I just… I wanted to tell you… I love you, Mom. And I swear, I will make them pay for what they did to us. For what they'll do."
Angela's breath hitched, her lips trembling as she tried to stay composed. "Baby, don't talk like that. You're scaring me," she said, her voice unsteady as her hands tightened around his trembling shoulders. Her eyes searched his face, trying to find some trace of the child she had held so many nights. "Your eyes… your skin… how long has this been happening?"
Hound lowered his gaze, silent and consumed by grief. The words wouldn't come, as though speaking them aloud would make the nightmare even more real. After a long pause, he finally whispered, "There's only one dream where things turned out differently. Just one. But to change it… I'd have to do something impossible."
Angela's voice was barely above a whisper. "What do you mean, Ronnie? What's impossible?"
"I don't understand how everything is connected yet, Mom," he admitted, his fists tightening as his transformed skin faintly shimmered under the fading light. "But if I pushed you off this building… Puck and I wouldn't become slaves. You'd die, but the chains wouldn't bind us. It's the only way out for us. But even then, it doesn't fix everything. Two years later, everyone else still dies. Everyone except me and Puck."
Angela's face softened, her lips forming a fragile smile despite the tears brimming in her eyes. She cupped his face, her touch tender even against the strange warmth of his altered skin. "If you want to push me, Ronnie, I'll let you. I'd rather fall a thousand times than see my son suffer in slavery. But if you don't, I'll cherish every second I have left to see your face." Her voice cracked as she pulled him closer. "What's it going to be, sunshine? Tell me what you want."