Lena had always felt like something was off, like she was living in a dream that was just too strange to understand. For weeks, she'd been having dreams—no, nightmares—that seemed so real, so vivid, they lingered long after she woke. It was as though the line between dream and reality was beginning to blur. The faces, the sounds, the shadows—they followed her, and the dreams were getting worse.
Each night, they escalated. At first, it was just fleeting glimpses of a dark world, cold and shadowed. Then, the figures began to speak, their whispers clawing at her mind. They called her by a name she didn't recognize, told her of things she couldn't comprehend. Each time she woke, her heart raced, the weight of their words heavy in her chest. But she told no one. Not her aunt, not her friends—no one. She just pretended everything was fine.
Lena was a 17-year-old college student, and to the outside world, she was just like any other girl her age. But inside, she was a mess. Her heart had shattered a week ago when she found out that her best friend, the one person who was supposed to have her back, had started dating the most popular girl on campus. How could she not have seen it coming? How could she have been so blind?
Tonight, she was going to a party to forget about everything, to bury the pain that gnawed at her from the inside. She slipped into a tight red dress, something she knew would catch people's attention. It wasn't much, but it was all she had left to feel good about herself. As she stared at her reflection in the mirror, she knew she wasn't going to find answers at this party—but she needed to try.
When Lena arrived, the music pulsed through the crowded room, people laughing and dancing. It felt like an escape, for just a few hours. She didn't care anymore. Let them all think she was fine. She wasn't. But she could pretend.
She walked straight to the bar, ordering a drink before she even thought about it. A little alcohol would dull the edges, right? Maybe she could forget about the dream she had last night—the one where the shadows whispered her name again, only this time, she could see them more clearly, feel them more intensely. It was terrifying.
But tonight, she wasn't going to think about it.
After her third drink, everything started to blur together. The faces, the sounds, they all melted into a haze. She could still hear the whispers from the dream, but they were distant now, like an echo from another world.
The room spun, and she felt herself sway as she leaned against the wall. That's when everything changed.
Lena stepped outside, needing a moment to breathe, needing to get away from the noise. She stumbled down the empty alley behind the club, tears welling up in her eyes. She wasn't sure why she was crying—maybe it was the heartbreak, maybe it was the weight of the dreams—but whatever it was, it felt like too much.
And then, just as the tears blurred her vision, something… someone, appeared before her.
The air turned cold. Too cold. She stopped, the hair on the back of her neck standing up.
She blinked, trying to clear her vision, but all she could see was the outline of a tall figure standing in front of her. He was draped in a cloak, dark and flowing, but it wasn't the cloak that caught her attention. It was his eyes.
One eye gleamed a deep, eerie red, while the other was a sharp, piercing blue. They glowed, like flames in the darkness, and they locked onto hers with an intensity that made her shiver.
"What the hell?" Lena muttered, trying to steady herself on her feet. "Who the f*** are you?"
The man didn't respond, just continued to watch her, his eyes unreadable. His face was handsome—too handsome—and his expression was cold, detached, as if he wasn't entirely sure she was real. But his gaze never wavered.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" she demanded, voice shaky but defiant. "Why's one of your eyes red and the other blue? What the hell are you?"
She was drunk, she knew that, but there was something about him that made everything feel surreal. Her heart raced, but not out of fear. There was something magnetic about him, something… dangerous. Her body instinctively took a step back.
"You're not real," she whispered to herself, still trying to process what she was seeing. "You can't be real."
The man stepped forward, his presence overwhelming. The cold air seemed to intensify with each step he took toward her, as if the very night itself were bending to his will. He was too beautiful—too powerful. The way his cloak billowed around him made it seem like he was drifting in and out of reality itself.
Then, finally, he spoke. His voice was deep, but strangely calm, and yet it sent a shiver down her spine.
"You shouldn't be here."
Lena scoffed, wiping the tears from her eyes. "I'm not the one who's not supposed to be here, you creep. Why are you even looking at me like that? Are you some kind of… monster?"
The words slipped out before she could stop herself, but she didn't care. She was tired of pretending, tired of acting like everything was okay when it clearly wasn't.
The man didn't flinch, just continued staring at her with those two-colored eyes, his expression unreadable. But there was something in the way he looked at her—something in the darkness surrounding them—that made Lena feel small, insignificant.
But then, just as she was about to turn away, she froze.
She couldn't move. It was like an invisible force had gripped her, holding her in place.
He was close now, just a few feet away, and Lena could feel the chill of the air surrounding him, the way his presence seemed to distort the reality around her. It wasn't just his power. It was the fact that she could feel him—really feel him—in ways she couldn't explain.
And then, before she could even think, he reached out and touched her cheek, his hand cold against her skin.
Her breath hitched in her throat, and before she could say anything, everything around her went black.