Elias didn't dream often—or at least, he never remembered them. But this one was different. It wasn't a chaotic blur of random thoughts or nonsensical images. It was clear, almost too real. He could feel the warmth of her arms around him, the way she held on just a little too tightly, the faint scent of vanilla in her hair.

Gabby.

His heartbeat quickened as the memory lingered in his mind. The dream had been brief—she hugged him, said nothing, and yet, somehow, it felt like the most important thing that had ever happened to him. When he woke up, his chest was tight, his skin buzzing with something unfamiliar.

What the hell was that?

He sat up in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to shake it off. It was just a dream. Nothing more. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop thinking about her. About Gabby. The way she looked at him in that dream, the warmth in her eyes—it wasn't like the real Gabby, the one who barely spoke to him outside of polite conversation.

And yet, something had shifted.

He was in love.

The realization hit him like a slap to the face. No, this was stupid. It didn't make sense. He'd barely even talked to her before. Sure, he had always thought she was kind of cool in a distant, untouchable way, but love? That was insane.

Except… it didn't feel insane. It felt right.

Elias groaned, flopping back down onto his pillow. You've lost your mind, man. But the feeling wouldn't fade, and that scared him more than anything.

It wasn't until later that day that things got even weirder.

Elias was sitting on his bed, replaying the dream in his mind for the hundredth time when something strange happened. The air around him shifted. It wasn't something he could see, but he could feel it—like an invisible current rippling through the room.

Then, just for a second, the world glitched.

His vision blurred, and suddenly—impossibly—he was back in the dream. Gabby's arms wrapped around him, the scent of vanilla filling his nose. But this time, he was aware. He wasn't just reliving a memory. He was there, inside the dream, awake.

Panic surged through him. He stumbled back, his mind racing. And just like that, the dream shattered. He was back in his room, gasping for breath, his hands shaking.

What the hell was that?!

It took him a few minutes to calm down, but when he did, a terrifying, exhilarating thought formed in his mind.

Then, as if reading words that had been etched into his mind, he muttered under his breath:

"Dream Manipulation? You can manipulate dreams, give them to others yourself and bring parts of them into the real world."

His hands trembled slightly. The words felt both foreign and familiar, like something that had always been there, just waiting to be discovered.

That wasn't just a dream.

He had controlled it. No—he had created it. And if he could do that… what else could he do?