Kenneth awoke with a gasp, his body slick with sweat, the echo of fire and dragon’s roar still vibrating in his chest. The faint gray before dawn pressed against his window, hinting at another ordinary day, but nothing felt ordinary now. For a long moment he lay still on the narrow cot, staring up at the cracked ceiling, tethered between the fading terror of the dream and the unreal hush of waking.
His breath came shallow, rattling. The vision remained sharp behind his eyes—the crystal eagle’s wings, the taste of smoke, the heat of burning mud. The message, too, pulsed in his mind: Heaven rules. His heart hammered, both comforted and unsettled. He pressed his hand to his chest as if to slow the racing thud. The world outside his window was quiet—no eagles, no flames, just the distant hum of the city, the river whispering past the edge of the grounds.
The white building stood across the water, ten floors gleaming pale in the blue morning haze. He’d been its housekeeper for seven gentle years, cleaning the corridors, keeping its crystal surfaces pristine, tending the lush banks of the river. But now even its beauty seemed fragile, haunted by the memory of what he had witnessed in his dreams.
A soft knock at his door jolted him. He sat up, groggy. Miriam, one of his colleagues, peeked in, her dark eyes wide and shining with concern. "Kenneth, did you hear the thunder in the night? And the river… the water looks so strange this morning."
He pulled on his shirt, forcing himself to stand. “I dreamt… things. Terrible things. But it felt real.” His voice wavered as he met her worried gaze. “The river turning, the sky darkening. Creatures—”
She flinched. “I saw something in the water just before dawn. I swear I did.”
At that moment, the third of their small team, Daniel, appeared in the hallway, clutching a broom as if it were a weapon. His face was ashen. "There’s a man by the riverbank. He’s staring up at the building. Doesn’t look right."
Kenneth’s skin crawled. He strode to the window and peered out. There, across the flawless water, stood the figure—unmoving, dark against the pale reflection of the building. The man’s face was obscured, but the way he fixed his gaze on the windows above felt like a challenge, or a summons. The air twisted and shimmered around him, as if reality itself had wrinkled.
A sudden wind whipped down the river, rattling the glass. The water began to churn, swirling as it had in the dream. For a heartbeat, Kenneth saw something vast and sinuous move beneath the surface—impossible, yet real to his eyes.
He turned to Miriam and Daniel, whose faces mirrored his own dread. “We can’t stay here,” Miriam whispered. "Let’s go inside. If he follows, we need to reach the upper floors."
The three hurried across the marble foyer and began to climb the grand staircase, their footsteps echoing in the trembling silence. On the ninth floor, each breath rasped in Kenneth’s throat. Behind them, the door on the ground floor groaned open, hinges shrieking. The stranger’s footsteps followed—slow, deliberate, inevitable.
On the tenth floor landing, Kenneth saw it: the unremarkable door with four brown bags hanging on the wall, just as in his vision. The air was thick with anticipation. The man from the river ascended behind them, his presence like a shadow pressing icy fingers to the napes of their necks. Miriam’s hand shook as she pointed. “The bags. There are four—one for each of us. Should we take them?”
Kenneth reached out, fingers grazing the nearest bag. The stranger appeared at the top of the stairs. He lingered in the threshold, watching, silent.
The clock in the hall struck once, marking the hour with a note like a bell tolling doom.
Kenneth’s hand closed around the bag’s leather strap, heart pounding, as the stranger’s gaze locked onto his. For an instant, the world balanced on a razor’s edge—the next move would shape everything to come.