Fire dances around me as I stand at the heart of a land being devoured by flame, everything turning to glowing ash.
Amidst the chaos, a pair of eyes meet mine—burning with longing and fierce affection.
We're only meters apart, yet somehow closer than ever. Around us, growls and roars echo through the smoke as two pale-faced men and a towering, hairy beast fight off a mob of otherworldly beats.
I jolted awake, drenched in sweat, my body cold and trembling. The vivid images still clung to my mind, painting a reality that shouldn't exist—but felt far too real to be just a dream.
I turned to my side, heart racing, only to see my best friend fast asleep, undisturbed by the storm I'd just escaped.
Heart racing and breath shallow, I stumbled into the kitchen for a glass of water. But just as I reached for it, a chill crawled down my spine-the unmistakable feeling of being watched.
I turned around slowly.
There, in the dim light, a dark figure sat unmoving on the armchair. My heart thudded louder in my chest. With trembling fingers, I flipped on the lights-
-and froze.
A man, strangely handsome and eerily calm, was slouched in the chair as if in a deep sleep... or pretending to be.
Panic surged through me. I turned on my heel and ran to my room, shaking my friend awake.
"Wake up!" I hissed, breathless. "There's a stranger in our house-he's sleeping on the armchair!".
"Mia wake up there is man in our living room" I called her.
She whinny and irrtated wakes up asking "what do you want from me ,that to at three in morning Vivian" she tells me with a irritated voice.
"There is a guy on the armrest in the living room".
"What? A guy... Oh, right-now I remember. That's my brother, Jeremy," she said in a soft, dragging voice, as though piecing it together while speaking. "I let him in yesterday... My family went on a trip and forgot to leave the spare key in the plant pot.
"Vivian don't wake him up as he is very cranky when somebody wakes him up." Said Mia as she drifts back to sleep.
So I tip toes back down only to see the armchair empty and the kitchen light on.
I go into the kitchen to see a empty bottle and a packet of indomie on the counter top.
Suddenly, I felt strong hands wrap tightly around my waist, locking me in place as I was lifted off the ground.
"I missed you, Mia," a deep voice murmured behind me, laced with a strange mix of warmth and joy.
I screamed with all the strength I had, the sound slicing through the silence of the house-loud enough to jolt Mia awake and send her racing down the stairs.
Mia came charging down the stairs, barefoot and wild-eyed, clutching a baseball bat with both hands.
She skidded to a halt at the bottom step-ready to strike-only to freeze when she saw her brother, Jeremy, laughing as he lifted me off the ground like a ragdoll.
"Jeremy?!" she blurted, lowering the bat in confusion. But then her eyes narrowed. "Jeremy, what are you trying to do to Vivian, you pervert?!"
"I thought... this was you," he muttered, blinking in surprise.
Then he turned his head and looked at me properly-his expression shifting from playful to stunned as he realized I wasn't Mia. Slowly, almost sheepishly, he placed me back down on the floor.
"The lights were on, Jeremy," Mia hissed.
"How the hell did you think she was me?"
"You both have the same haircut now!" he defended, stepping back. "From behind, in that hoodie... I just saw someone by the sink and thought it was you. I was half-asleep. I didn't mean to scare anyone!"
"You didn't just scare her, you manhandled her," Mia said, her voice cold and sharp. "You were literally passed out in the armchair, and the next second you're clinging to her like a creep. What were you thinking?!"
Jeremy ran a hand through his messy hair, eyes darting between us. "I wasn't. I woke up, saw someone standing there, and-l don't know-I thought I'd be funny. I didn't realize it was Vivian, alright?"
I took a step back, arms crossed tightly over my chest. "Well, it wasn't funny. It was terrifying.
Mia's grip tightened on the bat. "Guest room. Now. And don't even think about stepping out of it tonight."
Jeremy opened his mouth to argue, but one look at her and he backed down.
Wordless, he trudged toward the hallway and disappeared around the corner.
Silence returned to the kitchen.
Mia looked at me, eyes softening. "You okay?"
I nodded stiffly. "Yeah. Just... freaked out."
She set the bat down with a clunk and sighed. "I'm so sorry, Viv. I don't know what's wrong with him."
"Anyway let's go back to sleep" I said and we returned to our room.
The morning sunlight spilled into the kitchen, warm and golden, a sharp contrast to the chaos of the night before. I sat at the table sipping coffee, still in my oversized hoodie, while Mia clanked around making eggs like she was still mildly annoyed at the world.
Jeremy shuffled in, hair sticking up like a mop, eyes squinting against the light. He looked like a man walking into his own trial.
"Morning," he mumbled, scratching his head.
Mia didn't look at him. "Guest room was cozy enough for you, Your Honor?"
He sighed. "Okay, okay. I deserved that."
I raised an eyebrow, pretending to look scared. "Just making sure… You know who I am this time, right?"
He blinked. "Yeah. You're… the one who screams like she's being murdered by a ghost."
Mia snorted.
"Excuse you," I shot back. "Anyone would scream if they were randomly picked up like Simba from The Lion King."
He winced. "Okay, fair. Look… I'm really sorry, Vivian. I honestly thought you were Mia."
"Oh wow, what a comfort," I said dramatically. "So next time I see you coming, I should yell 'Not Mia! Abort!'?"
Jeremy raised his hands. "No more surprise hugs. I swear. From now on, full facial recognition will be confirmed before any contact is made."
Mia finally turned around, flipping a pancake onto his plate. "Good. Because if you ever pull something that stupid again, I will swing that bat next time."
"Understood," he said, grabbing the plate. "Message received. Bat threat internalized. Brain updated."
He looked at me again, a sheepish smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Truce?"
I pretended to think, then gave a mock sigh. "Only if you do the dishes. For a week."
Jeremy groaned. "Blackmail at breakfast. You're more like Mia than I thought."
We all laughed, the awkwardness melting away bit by bit—until Jeremy added, "Still, though, you two really need different hairstyles."
Mia and I turned to him in unison. "Don't even start.
After a heavy breakfast that included pancakes, eggs, and Jeremy's eternal shame, the three of us crashed on the couch in front of the TV. Mia insisted we watch "Phantom Hearts", a horror-romance about a paranormal activist who falls in love with a ghost who may or may not be real… or evil… or allergic to sunlight?
"It won Best Actress," Mia announced proudly as she pressed play, "so shut up and watch with respect."
An hour and forty minutes later, the credits rolled. The room was silent. Mia was wiping a dramatic tear from the corner of her eye.
Jeremy and I turned to each other in unison and said, "What the hell did we just watch?"
Jeremy blinked at the screen. "How did she win an Oscar for that? Did the judging panel watch the same movie we did?"
I laughed. "Maybe they were haunted. Or bribed. Or both. I mean, she cried… while kissing a floating lampshade!"
Mia threw a cushion at us. "It was metaphorical!"
"Metaphorical for what? Dating furniture?" I shot back.
Jeremy nodded solemnly. "'Best Actress' should go to us—for surviving that without losing brain cells."
"Okay, haters," Mia huffed, crossing her arms. "Y'all just don't appreciate supernatural love stories."
"Supernatural love stories are fine," I said. "But this one had a ghost who played the violin, possessed her cat, and wrote love letters in ketchup."
"Art," she replied with a smirk. "You wouldn't get it."
Jeremy leaned back, mock-pondering. "Maybe next we can watch 'Chainsaw Soulmate'—a romantic slasher about a serial killer who just wants to be loved."
"Oh! Or 'Bride of the Banshee'!" I added. "Where she screams people into falling in love."
Mia shook her head. "Y'all are uncultured."
But she was lauging.
Suddenly, the sound of a phone ringing cut through our laughter like a knife. We all paused. Jeremy reached into his hoodie pocket and glanced at the screen.
"Dad," he muttered, holding it up. The caller ID had a demon emoji next to the name.
Mia and I exchanged looks.
"Classic," she whispered with a grin.
Jeremy answered the call with a sharp, "Yeah?" His face changed within seconds. Serious. Cold. He stood up without another word and left the room.
We sat there, waiting. It was only a minute, but it felt longer. When he came back in, the mood had shifted.
"I have to go," he said simply.
No explanation. No eye contact.
He disappeared into the guest room, and a few moments later re-emerged in a perfectly pressed suit—dark charcoal, clean-cut, completely at odds with the soft t-shirt and joggers he had been lounging in minutes before.
Mia and I stared.
"You keep a suit here?" I asked, blinking.
He shrugged, adjusting his collar. "Always keep a spare. Ma's house has better storage anyway."
There was something about the contrast—the sudden transformation from laid-back chaos to sharp precision—that left a lasting impression. It was like seeing two different versions of the same person walking out of the same skin.
He gave Mia a nod and looked at me, offering a faint smile. "Thanks for not stabbing me last night."
"Still tempted," I replied, but smiled back.
He was gone in seconds. The sound of the car pulling away faded fast, leaving only the hum of the television and the morning light stretching across the floor.
Mia immediately sank back into her gaming chair, headset on, controller in hand. "Back to the real world," she said, already half-lost in whatever digital warzone she was entering.
I stretched and curled up by the window, pulling out a book I'd picked up last week—"Samael: Devil of Wrath.
I kept reading Samael all morning, completely absorbed. The writing was strange—elegant, yet unsettling. It wasn't just scary, it was personal, like the book knew things it shouldn't. Every chapter pulled me deeper, each line whispering secrets I didn't know I wanted to hear.
Just as I was reaching a particularly intense passage—where the main character finds a name scratched into a mirror that hadn't been there the night before—I heard Mia call from the kitchen.
"Viv! Lunch!"
I blinked, realizing it was already noon. The sun had shifted, the room now bathed in soft gold. Time had slipped past me like water.
I stretched, setting the book down carefully, almost like it might bite me if I closed it too fast.
As expected, Mia had Chinese takeout spread across the table—steamed dumplings, fried rice, garlic noodles, crispy chili potatoes, and her favorite chili chicken, still steaming in its container.
"Guess what," she said with a grin as I sat down. "They gave us extra spring rolls. The universe wants us to overeat."
I laughed. "Or it's apologizing for that movie you made us watch."
She tossed a napkin at me. "You're never letting that go, are you?"
"Not until the Oscar committee apologizes too."
We dug in like we hadn't eaten in days. The chili chicken was perfectly spicy, the noodles soaked in garlicky goodness, and the dumplings practically melted in our mouths.
But even in the middle of good food and warm conversation, my eyes drifted back to the living room—where Samael lay on the couch, its black cover glinting faintly in the light.
I read through the pages, the story pulling me deeper with every word. It was becoming more and more interesting, but not in the safe, page-turner kind of way—it felt like it was creeping into my head, poking at corners I didn't even know were there.
Then, out of nowhere, the dream I'd had came rushing back.
Not the part I remembered when I first woke up—the loud chaos, the fear, the blur of movement. No, this was the other part, the hidden piece my mind had apparently tucked away until now.
Amidst all the noise in that dream, the dark wolf figure had stepped toward me, slow and deliberate. It lowered itself beside me, its massive head resting gently on my lap. Without thinking, my fingers sank into its fur—surprisingly soft, impossibly warm.
And then… I saw its eyes.
Golden, sharp, unblinking.
Jeremy's eyes.
The connection was so sudden, so absurd, that I snapped the book shut without realizing I'd done it. My heart was racing, and I had no idea why.
I tried to shake it off, to push my mind anywhere else, but those deep, dark golden eyes refused to let go.
They stayed burned into my vision—glowing, watching, following me even when I blinked.
Only… it wasn't the wolf anymore.
It was Jeremy's face.
Not smiling, not teasing—just staring with that same unblinking intensity. The kind of look that made it impossible to tell if you were safe… or prey.
I swallowed hard and opened the book again, hoping the words on the page would drown the image out. But every letter seemed to bend, twist, and form those same golden eyes in the spaces between.