Lumen
Sky didn't notice her at first.
She sat in the back row—quiet, pale, still. Hair like ink spilled across white paper. Sharp and straight and too perfect. She didn't raise her hand. Didn't eat at lunch. Didn't flinch when the homeroom teacher mispronounced her name.
She just watched.
Sky would've ignored her completely—if not for the dream.
The one last night had changed.
This time, he opened the red door.
And inside stood her. Lumen. Face turned away, hand pressed against a wall covered in moving reflections. When she turned, her eyes weren't just glowing.
They were glowing with his shard's light.
He had whispered to her:
"Don't break it. Not yet."
Now, in the fluorescent-lit classroom, Sky couldn't stop staring.
His pulse fluttered like moth wings.
Had he seen her before she joined the school?
Or had the mirror shown him what it wanted him to see?
The teacher called names, voice distant and underwater. Then—
"Sky and… Lumen. You two are paired."
Of course.
As if the dream had arranged it.
He made his way to her desk, palms clammy. "Hey. Uh… I guess we're partners."
Lumen looked up slowly.
Her eyes—closer now—were the same pale gray as fogged glass. They fixed on him, unblinking.
"I know you," she said.
Sky blinked. "From class?"
A pause. Then her head tilted, just slightly.
"From the forest."
His blood iced. "What forest?"
She didn't answer right away.
Instead, she leaned closer—too close—and whispered:
"You found a piece, didn't you?"
His mouth went dry. He glanced around.
"What… what do you mean?"
From under the desk, she slid something across the space between them.
A shard. Smaller than his.
But unmistakable.
The same shimmer. The same invisible gravity. The same hum in his bones.
"They talk," she said, soft and certain. "First in dreams. Then when you're awake. If you listen long enough... they show you things."
Sky stared at it, breath shallow. "Who are you?"
Lumen's voice was quieter now. "Someone who used to dream of a boy with hollow eyes. And now I dream of you."
The lights in the room flickered.
A chill passed between them, too brief for anyone else to notice.
Lumen looked toward the window.
"They're waking up again," she said. "And they remember us both."
That night, Sky didn't dream.
But when he woke, the shard was gone from his drawer.
In its place: a folded slip of paper. No name. No signature.
Inside, written in block letters:
"We're not the first.
But we might be the last."