Leo's eyes opened. Sunlight heat streamed in through the window, covering his bedroom in gentle golden light. A familiar ceiling greeted his eyes, flat and unbroken—not the rocky cave ceiling, not the ruined city sky.
He blinked.
Again.
His head was. too heavy, as if it had been underwater for too long.
Slowly, he pushed himself up, the soft mattress beneath him shifting slightly. Wait. A mattress?
His hands roamed over the fabric of his sheets, the familiar cotton texture grounding him. Not rough stone. Not cold dirt.
His breath hitched.
He was home.
Not in a ruined city. Not in a cave. Not being hunted by monstrous beasts.
Home.
A knock on the door jolted him.
"Leo! You're gonna be late!"
His mother's voice.
His heart clenched.
He swallowed hard and took a step towards the door, the sound of normalcy almost wrong after everything he had been through.
Hadn't he…
Hadn't he been somewhere else?
Memories of flames, of blood, of a black forest churned in his mind. He remembered hunger, pain, fear—survival.
But now, those memories felt distant. Hazy. Like a vanishing dream.
Perhaps… that's all it was.
Perhaps none of it had occurred.
Perhaps he had dreamed it all.
He took a rattling laugh, pushing his hand through his unruly hair. "One hell of a nightmare…"
A nightmare. That's all.
And now, he was where he was meant to be.
The smell of toast and eggs hung in the air as Leo came into the kitchen. His mom stood at the stove, quietly humming and flipping pancakes. His dad sat at the table, sipping coffee and browsing on his tablet.
His little sister, Mia, was full of cereal and barely looked up at him.
It was all so. normal.
But, as Leo sat down, an increasing discomfort rested heavily in his stomach.
"Rough night?" his dad asked, not lifting his eyes.
Leo hesitated. "Yeah… had a weird dream."
His mom giggled. "Had to have been awful. You were tossing and turning the entire night."
He grinned croakily. "Yeah. It felt so real, though."
His fingers reflexively explored the top of the table.
The sensation of cold metal. The weight of a crude spear in his palm. The rush of adrenaline as something monstrous chased him through the trees.
Leo shook his head. No. It was just a dream.
Wasn't it?
The school hallway was buzzing. Kids were laughing, lockers slamming shut, and the morning announcements droning on over the intercom.
Leo navigated through the hallways, trying to shake off the residual fear that clung to him.
Then, a voice interrupted.
"Yo, Leo! You good, man?"
Ryan—his best friend. The same goofy grin, the same carefree demeanor.
Leo hesitated before nodding. "Yeah. Just… weird dreams."
Ryan snorted. "Dude, if you're dreaming about school, you need better hobbies."
Leo laughed. It felt normal. Reassuring.
And yet, as he turned away from his locker, he caught something in the reflection of the little mirror inside.
For a split second, his own reflection didn't move.
His breath caught, his heart pounding in his chest.
But when he blinked, everything was fine again.
Only his own tired face staring back at him.
Little things during the day began to feel off.
His teacher inscribed on the board, but for a moment the letters blipped, morphing into unfamiliar symbols before restoring themselves.
The sound of his peers' voices sometimes echoed, even when the room was silent.
When he touched his pencil, fleetingly, it was as though he was holding something rougher. A wooden spear.
He pressed his palms against his temples.
"Get a grip. It was just a dream."
But if so.
Why did the dream feel like it wanted to pull him back in?
That evening, Leo lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling.
Sleep would not come.
A prickling, dark feeling crept around the edges of his brain.
Then, a sound—a whisper.
Leo stopped. His room was dark, the only light from the moon outside.
He moved slowly towards the mirror on his desk.
And his breathing caught in his throat.
Something was staring back at him.
Not his face.
Something else.
A dark figure, its form undulating, its eyes empty.
It raised a hand, and suddenly—
Leo remembered.
The ruins. The beast which had stolen from him.
His chest was heaving, his body trembling.
This was not a dream.
This was something else.
And before he could move—
The mirror broke.