Night had come too quickly.
Lying in bed, Julie couldn't shake the dream. She had seen herself—different. Older? Stronger?
At her side was Jeremy—but not like he was now. His eyes burned with fire, and his arms held her in the middle of chaos.
They were together, and yet distant.
The surrounding walls had crumbled.
"Love is not a reward. It is a test."
The words echoed inside her.
They didn't belong to high school corridors, to textbooks, lockers, or the boys she hadn't kissed.
That dream… was something more.
She slid open the drawer and pulled out an old notebook—the one where she used to write down her dreams.
She began recording every detail, trying not to forget: the symbol, the voice, the feelings.
She wanted to understand.
But deep inside, she already knew.
That dream hadn't belonged to her alone.
*
Jeremy sat in the abandoned monastery.
The candles Henry had lit cast golden shadows across the walls.
His mother's book lay open in his lap.
The entries were more unsettling than before—the deeper he read, the more he felt she had known.
What awaited him.
What awaited all of them.
"If you ever see fire in a dream and it doesn't burn you—it means you're waking up."
He couldn't stop thinking about Julie.
Something had changed in her. Her gaze… was heavier, like she carried a secret.
And he knew—she had dreamed too.
He felt it under his skin, like one senses a storm before it breaks.
But he said nothing.
Not yet.
*
Julie walked home from school alone.
The sun was setting behind the trees, casting shadows on the pavement that stretched in a strange, pulsing way.
It didn't feel like a street.
It felt like something alive.
Something that knew her.
She stopped by an old road sign—rusted, tilted.
Something urged her to touch it.
The moment her fingers met the cold metal, a wave of warmth rushed through her body.
Her vision wavered.
The trees began to move, though no wind stirred.
In the distance, a sound rose—like a song, but too deep, too ancient.
She knew it.
From the dreams.
From that place where she had stood beside Jeremy.
And then she saw something.
A flash.
Herself—but not as she was now. Her eyes gleamed silver, and in her hands, she held light.
Light Jeremy tried to quench with his darkness.
Nausea gripped her.
She stumbled, hitting a bulletin post, and clutched her head.
"What the hell…" she whispered.
From behind the trees, a figure emerged.
A man.
Tall, cloaked in dark fabric.
His face felt familiar, though she couldn't place it anywhere from school.
"Julie," he said calmly, as if he'd always known her name.
"Who are you?"
"They used to call me Henry. But to your mother, I was just an angel who tried to stop something that had already begun."
Julie frowned.
Her heart pounded like mad—yet something inside her calmed at that name.
Like she had heard it before… in another life.
"You… wait, my mom isn't into dark stuff. My parents are normal. I'm—"
"You're connected to a fate that's only just beginning to weave.
There's more in you, Julie. That's why you dream. That's why Jeremy feels you."
She took another step back, but she didn't run.
Because something in her had started to believe.
*
Books spilled across the living room table.
Julie flipped through page after page—from occult history to pseudo-scientific theories on dreams, souls, and dimensional bonds.
She couldn't sleep.
Every whisper in her head, every flicker in the corner of her eye reminded her of something greater.
And of him—Jeremy.
For days, she had avoided him on instinct, afraid to reveal too much.
But he knew.
He could feel her changing.
And that was the worst part.
She stopped on an old scanned article about the Heirs of Light and Shadow.
Rituals.
Dreams shared by kindred souls.
"When light and shadow touch for the first time, both will feel fire. But before they can burn together, they must face the trial: to see the truth that existed before their birth."
Julie held her breath.
"That… sounds like me," she whispered.
"And Jeremy."
Then she heard the whisper.
Not from behind the wall.
Not from her phone.
From the air itself—like the room had begun to breathe:
"See what was.
Remember what you never lived."
She shivered.
For a heartbeat, she wasn't in her room anymore, but in some ancient library.
The books before her weren't paper—they were memories.
Hers. Others'. Unnamed.
She closed her eyes.
In a blink—she saw herself.
In a different dress.
With different eyes.
Standing before the same boy who now held fire inside his chest.
She opened her eyes.
Silence.
But she knew one thing for certain now:
She wasn't just a normal girl.
And Jeremy was no coincidence.