26_ Dreams

I ran my fingers through my hair and pulled at it, my frustration boiling over. I could still feel the weight of her words hanging in the air. “Claudia is destined to die… just like you were destined to die.” The way she said it so matter-of-factly made my blood boil.

“Destined to die,” I muttered under my breath, pacing the living room. “Why does she keep talking about my death like it’s inevitable? Like I don’t have a say in it?”

Dylan, sitting on the couch, watched me with a worried expression. “Katrina,” he started, his voice soft, “Sabina is only—”

“I don’t care what Sabina is doing!” I snapped, whirling around to face him. “I’m tired of hearing it. Tired of waiting for some prophecy to dictate my life. I don’t want to die, Dylan. I don’t want this to be my story.”

My voice cracked at the end, and I hated how vulnerable I sounded.

Dylan stood and walked over to me, his presence grounding me even as my emotions threatened to spiral. “I know,” he said gently, his hand brushing my arm. “And you’re not alone in this. We’ll figure it out. Together.”

I sighed, my shoulders slumping. “I just don’t know how much more I can take.”

Before Dylan could respond, Sabina stepped back into the room, her face filled with determination. “Katrina, I promise you, I’m researching everything I can. I’ll do everything in my power to help you. I swear it.”

Her words softened the edge of my frustration, and I nodded, though my heart still felt heavy. I just sighed in exhaustion.

Sabina gave me a reassuring smile before leaving, the faint scent of herbs lingering in the air after she’d gone.

The house fell silent once Sabina was gone, and Dylan and I sat on the couch. For a while, neither of us spoke. The weight of the prophecy, the visions, and my uncertain future pressed down on us both.

“What do you think we should do?” I finally asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Dylan leaned back, his arms resting on the back of the couch. “First,” he said, “we stop thinking about the worst-case scenario. You’re not dying, Katrina. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

His confidence was comforting, even if I wasn’t entirely sure I believed it.

“And second?” I asked, tilting my head to look at him.

A playful smile tugged at his lips. “We go on a date.”

I blinked at him, caught off guard. “A date? Now?”

“Yes, now,” he said firmly. “You’ve been cooped up in here worrying about things you can’t control. You deserve to have some fun.”

I hesitated, my fingers brushing against a strand of my white hair. “But what about this?” I gestured to the snowy strands framing my face. “It’s not exactly subtle, Dylan. People will stare.”

“Let them,” he said, his voice steady. “You’re beautiful, Katrina. Screw the prophecy! Your white hair suits you. It makes you look like an angel.”

Heat rose to my cheeks at his words, and I couldn’t help but smile despite myself.

“Fine,” I said, rolling my eyes playfully. “But if anyone starts asking questions, it’s your fault.”

Dylan grinned and stood, holding out his hand. “Deal. Now, go get ready. We’re going to have a great time.”

\---

It took me longer than I expected to get ready. I wasn’t used to picking out clothes for dates—or for anything, really. Most of the time, I just wore whatever Dylan had given me, but tonight, I wanted to make an effort.

When I finally emerged, Dylan was waiting for me by the door. His eyes lit up when he saw me, and he let out a low whistle. “You look amazing.”

I laughed, feeling a little self-conscious. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

He offered me his arm, and we stepped out into the cool evening air.

The date itself was simple but perfect. Dylan took me to a cozy little diner he said was his favorite. The atmosphere was warm and inviting, with soft music playing in the background and the scent of fresh food wafting through the air.

We talked about everything and nothing—our favorite foods, the places we wanted to visit, and the books Dylan said I should read someday.

For a while, it was easy to forget about the prophecy and everything else looming over us. I laughed more than I had in weeks, and I couldn’t stop smiling at the way Dylan looked at me, like I was the only person in the room.

“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to see you smile like this,” he said at one point, his gaze soft.

I felt my cheeks flush, and I looked down at my plate, unable to stop the grin spreading across my face. “I guess I just needed the right person to make it happen.”

\---

By the time we returned home, I felt lighter, like a part of the weight I’d been carrying had been lifted.

“Thank you,” I said as we stepped inside.

“For what?” Dylan asked, his brow furrowing.

“For tonight,” I said simply. “For reminding me that there’s still good in the world.”

Dylan smiled, his eyes full of warmth. “Anytime.”

He kissed me as we said goodnight to each other.

As I went to bed, I fell asleep feeling more at peace than I had in a long time.

But the peace didn’t last. I had a dream.

The dream started innocently enough. I was walking through the forest, the familiar scent of pine and earth surrounding me. But then the air grew heavy, the scent of blood filling my nose.

I froze, my heart pounding as I looked around. The ground was littered with bodies—lifeless, unmoving, and scattered as far as the eye could see.

When I stepped closer, I noticed something strange. Each body had silver residue around their wounds, as though they’d been stabbed with a silver knife.

My stomach twisted as my mind went to the prophecy, the words echoing in my head like a haunting melody.

As I looked up, I saw her—Sabina’s mother. She stood in the distance, her expression unreadable as she watched me.

Fear gripped me, but before I could move or speak, the scene faded, and I jolted awake.

My chest heaved as I sat up, the remnants of the dream clinging to me like a dark shadow.

And then I saw her.

Sabina’s mother stood at the foot of my bed, her eyes locked on mine.

A scream tore from my throat as I scrambled back, my hand clutching the blanket tightly.

I blinked, rubbing my eyes and looking again.

There was no one in my room. She was gone.

My heart raced as I stared at the empty space where she’d been, the room eerily silent.

What was happening?