Niah jolted awake from her sleep, her breath coming in quick like shallow bursts. The last threads of a weird, unsettling dream slipped away, vanishing like smoke. Morning sunlight crept through her curtains, painting long shadows across her room. But it wasn't just the light that felt strange, it was the air itself, which was heavy with something old and familiar, like a memory that refused to come into focus.
She sat up and rubbed her eyes, her hands still tingling from whatever she'd just experienced. It wasn't only the dream. The whole world felt a little off, like the air had shifted or maybe she had. Her fingers drifted to her neck, brushing the spot where her scarf had rested yesterday. The shiver that ran through her wasn't from the cold, it was something deeper, something ancient stirring inside her.
The dream itself was a mess of fragments: flashes of something ancient, light twisting and bending, voices echoing from somewhere far away. She could almost feel something pulsing just out of reach, like it was trying to break through the veil that separated her from… what, exactly?
Is this a memory? she wondered. Is this who I am now?
Niah swung her legs off the bed and started pacing, hoping to shake off the déjà vu. But the puzzle pieces never fit. Every step brought her closer to some kind of answer, but never close enough to actually grab it.
She sighed, headed to the bathroom to splash some water on her face, and got ready for the day, barely paying attention to what she was doing.
A knock at the door snapped her out of her daze. She froze, caught between confusion and the weird pressure building in her chest.
"Come in," she called, her voice rougher than she meant.
Maria stepped inside, moving slower than usual. Her eyes were sharp and watchful, nothing like her normal, bustling self.
"Good morning," Maria said, trying to sound casual. "You look like you barely slept."
"I didn't," Niah admitted, pushing her hair back. "Had some weird dreams. And honestly? I just feel… off. Like I'm not really myself today."
Maria gave her a small, unreadable smile. "Or maybe you're more yourself than ever."
Niah narrowed her eyes. "What is that supposed to mean?"
Maria didn't answer right away. She crossed the room and perched on the edge of Niah's desk, her gaze drifting to the window and the light filtering through the curtain.
"Dreams like that don't just pop up for no reason," Maria said quietly. "Sometimes they're memories, older than you'd think, or sometimes… they're a sign."
"A sign of what?" Niah's voice sharpened, a hint of suspicion creeping in. "Maria, what do you know?"
Maria looked at her, and for a split second, something flickered in her eyes.
"You always thought the bookstore was just a bookstore," Maria said. "That I was just someone who loved old pages and good ink."
"Aren't you?" Niah whispered.
Maria smiled, sad and a little tired. "Not entirely. I've been keeping a watch, Niah. For a long time. For people like you."
"Like me?" Niah's voice dropped to a whisper.
Maria stood and moved closer, raising her hand as if to brush something from Niah's cheek, but stopping just short.
"You're starting to see past the veil and that doesn't happen to everyone. Only to those meant for something more."
Niah took a step back. "Meant for what? Maria, do you—" she hesitated, "do you have magic?"
Maria didn't flinch. "I do. Not exactly like yours. But close enough to sense the change in you."
Silence settled between them. Outside, a bird chirped once, then everything went quiet, like the world itself was holding its breath.
"I don't get any of this," Niah said.
"You will," Maria promised, her voice gentle. "For now, just let yourself feel it. And remember, you're not alone."
Before Niah could answer, her phone buzzed on the nightstand. She glanced at the screen.
Zaire Castellan:
Meet me at the chapel. We need to talk.
Her heart skipped. Zaire's message was short, but there was an urgency behind it that made her chest tighten.
"Everything okay?" Maria asked, catching the change in Niah's face. She watched as Niah's eyes flicked to her phone, saw the shift that meant the world was already pulling her somewhere new.
Niah stood, her voice shaky. "I—I have to go."
Maria nodded, then paused. "Before you go…"
Niah stopped in the doorway, turning back. Maria approached near her and for a moment, she looked older than Niah had ever seen her, like someone who'd been walking a long road before either of them knew it.
Maria looked her in the eye. "When you step out that door, things won't be the same. Not for you but for the whole world."
Niah swallowed. "I don't think they've been the same for a while."
"No," Maria said softly. "But this is different. This isn't chance finding you, this is you choosing to find it."
They stood in silence. Niah almost left, but Maria raised her hand, just to say one last thing.
"If you ever doubt yourself," Maria said, "If the Veil gets too thick or the voices too loud, remember: You were never chosen by accident. You are the story, not just a reader passing through."
Niah let the words sink in, deep and heavy, like seeds waiting for rain.
"I'll remember," she said.
Maria smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Good. Because soon, you'll need to."
Niah slipped out, closing the door softly behind her.
Maria stood by the window for a long time, her hand resting on the glass, watching Niah disappear down the street.
"I'll be where the ink runs deep," she whispered, "And the tea always steams."
* * *
Outside, the air felt heavier than usual, buzzing with something Niah couldn't name. A low hum vibrated at the back of her mind, making her hyper-aware of every step, every shift in the world around her. She wasn't just walking, she was feeling the rhythm of the earth, sensing something big moving in the distance.
By the time she reached the chapel, her heart was pounding. She pushed the door open, and the soft echo of her footsteps was the only sound in the quiet space.
Zaire stood near the altar, his back to her. He didn't turn, but she could feel that he knew she was there.
"You've arrived," he said, still facing away.
"How'd you know?" she asked, her voice tight with nerves.
He turned, meeting her gaze with those dark, unreadable eyes that always seemed to see right through her.
"You are awakening Esme. It was bound to happen. You don't have to say a word, I can feel it."
Niah frowned, crossing her arms. "You're not going to stop calling me that, are you?"
Zaire smirked. "Of course, I won't. It fits you more and you know it."
"I don't get it." Her voice wavered. "I'm not Esme. I'm Niah. And I—"
"Esme is who you've always meant to be," Zaire cut in, his tone softer but steady. "Niah is just the name you've used in this life. But now you're waking up, and that means you're coming back to your real self."
Niah stepped back, her heart racing. "What's happening to me?"
"Everything's coming into focus," Zaire said, his gaze intense. "The power inside you, it's not sleeping anymore. It's been tugging at your mind for a while. I told you there's more to this world than you've been taught. Now you're finally seeing it."
His words hit her hard, settling deep inside.
Niah felt her heartbeat speed up as that strange feeling inside her grew stronger, like something wild and ancient was finally waking up. It wasn't just in her head, it was in her blood, pulsing in time with the magic all around her.
Zaire's eyes narrowed, watching her closely. "Trust me, Esme. You can't ignore this. You're not just a bystander anymore. You have a part to play."
She met his gaze, a flicker of understanding sparking in her chest. "And what if I'm not ready? What if I don't want any of this?"
Zaire stepped closer, his voice dropping low.
"Then you'll have to decide. Ready or not, the world is changing. And it needs you, more than anyone."
Niah felt the weight of his words settle into her bones.
Something was shifting, and she couldn't pretend otherwise. She did not know if she was ready for any of this, but one thing was certain: the world wasn't just something she lived in anymore. She was part of it now.
And there was no turning back.
* * *