Ethan stood in the middle of Fulton Street, his breath coming out in sharp, ragged gasps.
But this time, he wasn't alone.
A figure stood just ahead, barely visible through the thick, unnatural fog that clung to the ground. It was tall, impossibly tall, its silhouette stretching in the dim glow of a flickering streetlight.
His pulse thundered in his ears.
The thing wasn't moving.
It just stood there, its head tilted slightly, like it was watching him.
Ethan took a step back, but the moment his foot hit the pavement—
The thing twitched.
Not moved. Twitch.
Like a broken video, skipping a frame, its body suddenly snapping a few inches closer without actually walking.
Ethan's stomach lurched.
He turned his head—just for a second—searching for a way out.
When he looked back—
The thing was closer.
Too close.
His breath caught. His entire body screamed at him to run, but his legs wouldn't move.
The figure had no face. Nothing. Just a shifting blur, like reality itself refused to show him what it really looked like.
And then—
It spoke.
Not with words. Not with sound.
But directly into his mind.
"You don't belong here."
Ethan clapped his hands over his ears, but it didn't help. The voice slithered through his skull, cold and wrong, like a parasite burrowing inside.
The fog around him thickened. The streetlights flickered violently. The buildings in the distance warped, twisting at impossible angles.
And then—a hand clamped around his wrist.
Ethan jerked awake.
3:33 AM. Again.
He shot up in bed, gasping.
The room was dark. The air felt thick, like something was still here, lingering. Watching.
He turned his head slowly—toward the window.
And froze.
Outside, past the city lights, past the rooftops—
The sky was flickering again.
For a split second, he saw it. The same sickly red void from his dream, stretching endlessly.
Then—snap—it was gone.
Ethan's entire body trembled.
This wasn't just some nightmare.
Something was breaking through.
The next morning, Ethan barely spoke.
He arrived at school exhausted, eyes darting to every flickering light, every strange shadow. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong—that it was following him, bleeding into the real world.
And he wasn't the only one.
Maya looked just as bad.
Dark circles under her eyes, fingers tapping anxiously against her desk.
Ethan caught her gaze. They didn't even need to say it.
They both knew.
Jax, on the other hand, looked pissed. "Okay," he muttered under his breath. "I don't know what the hell's happening, but I'm about five seconds away from losing my mind."
They were back in the cafeteria, same corner table as yesterday.
Lucy crossed her arms, scowling. "I haven't slept. Every time I close my eyes, I end up back there."
Maya nodded stiffly. "Me too."
Jax exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. "Same. And it's getting worse. I saw something last night. It saw me."
The table went silent.
Ethan swallowed. "What did it look like?"
Jax hesitated.
Then, quietly, he said, "I don't know. Its face was—wrong. Like it wasn't supposed to be seen."
Ethan's blood ran cold.
It was the same thing.
The others—Lucy, Maya, even Reed—all tensed.
They had seen it too.
Reed finally spoke, his voice calm but serious. "It's not just a dream. We're being pulled into something."
Ethan clenched his fists. He already knew Reed was right.
The question was—who was pulling them? And why?
And more importantly—
What happened if they couldn't wake up next time?