Zareth Ashveil knew he was dreaming.
At least, he thought he was.
That was the only explanation his mind could come up with, because nothing in front of him made sense.
The city was destroyed.
Buildings were split open like something had torn through them.
Cars were flipped over in the middle of the road. Smoke drifted through the air in slow, heavy waves, carrying the smell of burning metal and something far worse that Zareth didn't want to name.
The sky was red.
Not bright red.
Not sunset red.
Just wrong.
It stretched over everything like a wound that hadn't closed.
Zareth stood in the middle of the ruined street, frozen.
His chest felt tight.
His hands were empty, but he kept looking down at them like maybe he'd find some answer there. Nothing. Just his own fingers shaking slightly.
He turned in a slow circle, trying to understand where he was, but the more he looked, the worse it got.
There were bodies.
Too many of them.
Some were lying in the road. Some were half-covered by rubble. Some looked like they'd tried to run and never made it far enough.
His stomach twisted.
"What the hell."
His own voice sounded too small in a place like this.
Then he saw someone standing ahead.
Not far.
Just past a broken streetlight and the shell of what used to be a car.
At first, Zareth only saw the outline.
A person standing completely still in the middle of all that destruction.
But then the smoke shifted.
And his blood ran cold.
The figure looked like him.
Not similar.
Not close enough to be a coincidence.
Exactly like him.
Same black hair.
Same face.
Same build.
Only older.
Not old, just older. Sharper somehow. Like the years between them had carved something harder into his face and taken away whatever softness he still had left.
Zareth stared.
His first thought was that he was
looking into some kind of mirror.
Then he saw the eyes.
They were glowing.
A deep red.
Not bright like fire. More like something burning underneath the surface.
He took an involuntary step back.
"No."
The older version of him didn't move.
Darkness drifted around his body in thin strands, like smoke that didn't know where else to go. It moved around his arms, his shoulders, his legs, never fully leaving him.
It looked wrong.
Not magical in a clean or beautiful way.
More like something that had attached itself to him and decided it wasn't ever letting go.
Zareth's breathing turned uneven.
That's not me.
But even as he thought it, he knew it was.
Somewhere deep down, in the part of him that reacted before his mind could catch up, he knew.
That was him.
Or at least that was who he was going to become.
Then a body hit the ground at the older Zareth's feet.
The sound made him flinch so hard his shoulders locked.
He hadn't even seen it happen.
One second the older him had been standing there alone.
The next, there was a corpse in front of him.
A man in some kind of white coat, blood spreading beneath his body.
Zareth's mouth went dry.
He looked around again and realized the older version of him wasn't standing near the dead.
He was standing in the middle of them.
And he didn't look shocked.
Didn't look scared.
Didn't even look guilty.
If anything, he looked tired.
Not sleepy.
Not exhausted.
Just done.
Like whatever had happened here had already taken everything it could from him.
The older Zareth slowly lifted his head.
And looked straight at him.
Zareth's entire body went still.
For one horrible second, he forgot how to breathe.
That wasn't possible.
This had to be a dream.
It had to be.
Because dreams weren't supposed to look back at you.
But those red eyes did.
They locked onto him like they had known he was there the whole time.
Like they had been waiting.
Then the older version of him spoke.
"You're late."
Zareth blinked.
That wasn't what he expected.
"What?"
The older him took one slow step forward.
His boots crunched over broken glass.
The shadows around him shifted.
"You always were."
Zareth frowned, even through the fear.
"What are you talking about?"
No answer.
The older him looked at him for a long second, and there was something in that stare Zareth hated immediately.
Disappointment.
Not anger.
Not hatred.
Just disappointment.
Like he was looking at a version of himself he didn't respect.
That somehow stung more than it should have.
Zareth clenched his jaw.
"Who are you?"
The older him almost smiled.
Almost.
Then a low sound rolled across the sky.
Zareth looked up instinctively.
And immediately wished he hadn't.
Something was wrong with the sky.
A crack was spreading through it.
A huge black fracture stretched across the red clouds, jagged and unnatural, like the world itself had been split open. There was something moving behind it something huge, slow, and impossible to make out clearly.
Then came the whispers.
Soft at first.
Then louder.
Not one voice.
Hundreds.
Maybe thousands.
Zareth couldn't understand a single word, but hearing them made his skin crawl anyway.
It felt like the kind of sound a human being was never meant to hear.
The older him didn't even look up.
Like this was normal.
Like he'd seen it before.
Slowly, he raised one hand.
The darkness around him moved immediately, gathering around his fingers.
Zareth stared.
It wasn't smoke.
It wasn't shadow.
It was something else.
Something that looked alive.
The air around them changed.
The ground cracked beneath the older him's feet.
And all at once, everything else went still.
The wind.
The fire.
Even the whispers.
The older him looked at Zareth again.
This time, his expression had changed.
It wasn't just disappointment anymore.
It was recognition.
Like he wasn't looking at a stranger.
Like he was looking at the beginning of a mistake he already knew too well.
"You still don't understand," he said.
Zareth felt his pulse in his throat.
"Understand what?"
The answer didn't come from him.
It came from everywhere.
From the air.
From the sky.
From inside his own head.
You were never meant to stay weak.
Zareth spun around.
The ruined city was gone.
Everything was gone.
The fire.
The bodies.
The streets.
Now there was only darkness.
He was standing in some kind of endless black space with no walls, no sky, no ground he could properly understand.
And chains.
Huge chains hung around him, disappearing into the dark above and below. Some were rusted. Some looked broken. Some looked like they had been holding something in place for a very long time.
Zareth's breathing got worse.
His chest tightened.
Then he saw the eyes.
Far ahead in the darkness.
Two red eyes staring at him from somewhere behind the chains.
He couldn't make out the shape around them.
Only the feeling.
Heavy.
Ancient.
Wrong.
Like standing too close to something that should not exist.
His legs nearly gave out.
The voice came again.
Kneel.
Zareth's whole body locked up.
He couldn't move.
Couldn't even tell if his feet were touching anything anymore.
The chains groaned.
A deep metallic sound echoed through the void.
Then the voice spoke again.
This time quieter.
And somehow worse.
No.
The darkness trembled.
You were never meant to kneel.
Something in Zareth's chest reacted instantly.
A sharp, violent pulse.
He gasped and grabbed at his shirt.
It felt hot.
Too hot.
Like something inside him had just woken up.
The red eyes in the distance narrowed.
And for the first time, Zareth had the awful feeling that whatever was looking at him.
already knew his name.
Then the darkness moved.
Fast.
Too fast.
It rushed toward him all at once and Zareth woke up.
He sat up so hard the bed frame creaked under him.
His breathing was uneven.
His shirt was damp with sweat.
For a few seconds, he just sat there,
staring into the dim light of his apartment, trying to remember where he was.
The rusted fan.
The cracked mirror.
The bucket under the leak.
His room.
Morning.
Normal.
He dragged a hand over his face and forced himself to breathe through it.
"Just a dream," he muttered.
But it didn't feel like one.
Not really.
Dreams were supposed to fade after you woke up.
This one didn't.
It stayed.
Like it had followed him back.
Zareth sat there for another second before finally looking toward the corner of the room.
And freezing.
The shadow there had moved.
He stared at it.
Didn't blink.
Didn't breathe.
Then, somewhere deep in his chest something moved too.