The ride home passed in a blur. I walked through crowds that moved with their usual haste, though every sound around me felt muted beneath the pulsing focus in my mind. I kept replaying the interview, trying to understand why it felt strange. The clarity of his voice lingered. The way he held my gaze felt too precise. Even after I stepped onto my street, my thoughts kept circling back to that office.

When I reached my apartment, I dropped my bag on the small table near the door and sat on the edge of my couch. The room felt narrower than usual. I ran my fingers through my hair and tried to separate nerves from instinct. Maybe I was overthinking everything. It was only an interview. A surreal one, but still an interview.

My phone remained silent.

I changed into softer clothes and leaned back against the cushions. The ceiling looked hazy as tiredness crept in. I told myself I had done what I could. The rest was out of my hands. My eyes drifted shut before I realized sleep had already started tugging at me.

The drift into dreaming came quickly, without a gentle fade. The air around me felt colder than my apartment. I stood in a dim field that stretched far into the distance. The ground beneath my feet looked scorched, darkened by something burned long ago. A pressure built inside my chest. I blinked toward a silhouette that stood several steps away.

A woman.

Her body was thin, almost weakened, though she stood with a strange resolve. Her long dress clung to her, torn from the lower edge. I could not see her face clearly. A wind moved across the field and her hair lifted with it. She raised her arm slowly. Her hand shook before she extended her fingers toward a group of figures standing opposite her.

Five of them. Tall. Still. They watched her with an unnatural calm.

My heartbeat quickened.

The woman exhaled with effort. Her voice trembled as though she was speaking from a fading body.

“You will feel what you have taken.”

Her arm lowered as though the rest of her strength drained with the words. Something rushed outward from her skin. A pale burst of light, thin and sharp, shot across the field. When the light reached the figures, their bodies jerked and staggered. Some fell to their knees. Others gripped their forearms with a frantic intensity.

My breath caught.

The woman collapsed. Her body hit the ground softly. Her chest rose once, then stilled.

Something inside me tightened in response, though I could not explain why.

I stepped forward without making any sound. The scorched ground felt warm beneath my feet now. One of the fallen figures lifted his head, and even though his face was obscured, I felt the force of his stare strike through me. It held anger. It held promise. It held recognition.

The dream shifted rapidly, almost torn away from me. I fell backward into darkness before I could brace myself.

I woke with a sharp gasp, gripping the couch cushion with both hands. Sweat dampened the back of my neck. My breath shook as I sat upright and blinked at my apartment. The room looked exactly as I left it. Dim. Familiar. Safe.

My heart kept racing.

I pressed a hand to my forehead. I rarely remembered dreams, but this one clung to me with an intensity that made my skin feel too tight. The scorched earth. The woman. The collapse. Those eyes.

I curled my knees toward my chest and stayed still for a moment. The dream did not feel random. It carried a clarity that made my stomach twist.

I breathed through it until the air steadied.

My phone buzzed on the table.

My hands trembled slightly as I reached for it. The screen lit with a single message from an unknown number.

Miss Quinn. The position is yours. Report tomorrow morning at seven.

Lucien Valtaros.

My breath stalled. He had chosen me.

A wave of relief washed through the leftover anxiety. Yet beneath the relief lived a faint echo of the dream, still pressing against the edge of my thoughts.

I set the phone down and leaned back again. Instead of easing, tiredness deepened. My eyelids grew heavy once more. I let them close, thinking it would be for a moment.

Sleep dragged me under faster than expected.

The second dream arrived without warning.

This time the air felt thicker. I stood inside an old structure with tall stone pillars lining a long path. Torches burned along the walls, though their flames flickered too slowly. The light cast elongated shapes along the floor. I felt small under the height of the place.

A faint sound traveled through the hall. It reminded me of footsteps, steady and deliberate. I turned toward the far end. A man walked toward me with a posture that looked composed and ancient all at once. His eyes glowed faintly red. They narrowed at me with displeasure that felt personal despite my lack of recognition. His face carried a stern outline, like someone shaped by years of resentment.

A cold sensation slid across my spine.

“You ran from what you swore to finish,” he said.

His voice echoed. My throat tightened. I stepped back, but the air behind me felt like thick stone. The torches dimmed one by one as he approached.

I opened my mouth to speak, but he raised a hand with a sharp motion.

“You cannot run again.”

A sound cracked through the hall like forced air. The ground trembled. My lungs seized. The man reached toward me.

I woke with a sharp pull of breath that left my chest aching.

I sat upright again, both hands gripping my shirt. My room looked unchanged, but my heartbeat felt too loud in my ears.

Two dreams in one nap.

I covered my face with my palms and tried to steady my breathing. The second dream carried a sharper edge. The man’s voice lingered inside my mind longer than I wanted it to.

I stood and walked to the sink, turning the water on and cupping a handful to splash over my face. The coolness helped clear the haze, though exhaustion clung to the corners of my thoughts.

My phone lit again with a follow up message.

Your ID badge will be ready at the front desk. A security escort will guide you to your floor.

I stared at the message. The professional tone should have helped anchor me, yet the contrast between my dreams and the reality of tomorrow’s work made my stomach twist again.

I dried my hands and leaned against the counter. I needed sleep, but the idea of closing my eyes again made my breath quicken.

I walked back to the couch, grabbed a blanket, and sat cautiously. I told myself the dreams were stress. My mind overreacting to a major opportunity.

It sounded logical. It did not feel convincing.

Eventually exhaustion overpowered fear. I lay back again, though I kept the lamp on this time. I hoped the light would help.

When sleep returned, it felt thinner, but no dreams came. The quiet was a relief.

By the time the sun crept through the window the next morning, I felt only partially restored. The dreams still lingered like faint impressions pressed into the edges of my thoughts. I washed, dressed, and prepared my things with careful movements.

I paused by the door with my keys in hand. My stomach clenched again, though this time it came from anticipation instead of fear.

A new job waited for me. A strange man waited for me. A day I had not expected waited for me.

Whatever yesterday set in motion, I had stepped into it fully now.

I locked the door behind me.

Tomorrow, I would step into Valtaros Corp as his secretary.