Dreamed of a Young Boy
Chapter 1 – The Dream
The wind carried the scent of rain through the open shutters, a cool whisper that brushed against the face of an old woman sleeping in a narrow bed. Her name was Elowen, and she had not dreamed in years.
But tonight was different.
In the silence, a sound began — soft at first, like the distant hum of a lullaby. She opened her eyes within the dream and found herself standing in a meadow of silver grass, each blade shimmering like moonlight caught in glass. Above her, the sky was a deep blue bruise, and stars shifted as if they were alive.
And there — at the edge of the meadow — stood the boy.
He couldn't have been more than twelve, barefoot and dressed in a tunic of pale green. His eyes were strange: one gold, one blue, like mismatched jewels. They glowed faintly in the darkness.
"Who are you?" Elowen asked.
The boy tilted his head. "You called me."
"I… did no such thing," she said.
"Yes, you did. Long ago. When you were still a child."
A ripple of recognition passed through her, though she couldn't place it. She felt an ache in her chest, the way one feels when trying to remember a forgotten song.
The boy stepped forward, his voice lowering. "The world is thinning, Elowen. And you're the only one left who remembers the Gate