Dust to stardust

The dream always began the same way.

Silence.

Not the peaceful kind that wrapped around sleeping children or quiet forests. This silence was older than language. Older than stars.

It was the silence that existed before the universe remembered how to breathe.

Mita floated through endless darkness, weightless, surrounded by tiny specks of silver light. They drifted around her like living dust, each one glowing with a heartbeat of its own.

One drifted close enough to touch.

The instant her fingertips brushed it, the darkness exploded into color.

Golden rivers stretched across the sky.

Mountains floated upside down.

Trees shimmered with crystal leaves.

Moons circled each other like dancers.

Above everything stood an enormous doorway made of light.

Its pillars reached farther than she could see.

Its surface wasn’t made of stone.

It was made of stars.

Someone stood before it.

She couldn’t see their face.

Only long robes that shimmered like galaxies.

“You came back,” the figure whispered.

The voice sounded like hundreds of voices speaking together.

Young.

Old.

Kind.

Terribly sad.

“I don’t know you,” Mita answered.

“You did.”

The stars around them dimmed.

“You simply forgot.”

The figure lifted one hand.

A tiny glowing symbol appeared in the air.

It looked like a circle surrounded by eight smaller stars.

The moment Mita saw it, something deep inside her chest burned.

Not painfully.

Like remembering a forgotten song.

“You carry the Key.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will.”

The doorway behind the figure cracked.

A sound echoed across the universe.

Not thunder.

Not an explosion.

More like reality itself breaking.

The figure looked toward the crack.

“They found us.”

The stars began disappearing.

One after another.

Like candles being blown out.

The figure turned back toward her.

“When the sky begins to tear…”

The voice grew distant.

“…find the others.”

The universe shook.

“…trust the wolf…”

Another crack.

“…never let them awaken—”

Everything shattered.

—

Mita woke with a gasp.

Rain tapped softly against her bedroom window.

The familiar ceiling greeted her.

White.

Plain.

Safe.

Or at least it should have felt safe.

Her heart raced so hard she could hear it.

She sat up slowly, pressing one hand against her chest.

The dream.

Again.

Always the same.

Always ending before she learned anything.

She rubbed her eyes.

“Just a dream.”

She said it aloud because hearing the words made them feel more believable.

Still…

Something about this one felt different.

The symbol.

She could still remember it perfectly.

That had never happened before.

She grabbed the notebook lying beside her bed.

The first pages were filled with sketches.

Strange towers.

Floating islands.

Stars.

Faces she had never met.

Doorways.

She turned to a blank page.

Without thinking, her pencil moved.

Circle.

Eight stars.

Perfect.

She stared at the finished drawing.

How had she drawn it so easily?

Her phone buzzed.

7:02 AM.

School.

Normal life.

Normal people.

Exactly what she needed.

—

The bus smelled faintly of wet jackets and coffee.

Outside, rain painted silver streaks across the windows.

Everyone looked half asleep.

Headphones.

Phones.

Backpacks.

Ordinary.

Mita tried to focus on them.

Reality.

That’s what mattered.

Not dreams.

Not symbols.

Not impossible places.

She chose her usual seat near the back.

As the bus pulled away, something caught her eye.

Standing across the street.

A boy.

About her age.

Black coat.

Dark curls.

Golden eyes.

Not brown.

Not hazel.

Gold.

He wasn’t waiting for the bus.

He was watching her.

The moment their eyes met—

He smiled.

Not happily.

Knowingly.

A chill raced through her body.

The bus turned the corner.

He disappeared.

She stood halfway up from her seat.

“What…”

There was nothing there.

Only empty pavement.

—

School was loud.

Lockers slammed.

Teachers called names.

Friends laughed.

Life continued exactly as it always had.

Which somehow made her dream feel even stranger.

Her best friend, Emma, hurried over.

“You look awful.”

“Thanks.”

“I meant tired.”

“I know.”

“Nightmares again?”

Mita hesitated.

She had never told anyone the whole truth.

Only that she dreamed a lot.

“Yeah.”

Emma nudged her shoulder.

“You need a vacation.”

“I wish.”

“You’ve been staring out windows for like…two weeks.”

“Have I?”

Emma raised an eyebrow.

“Yes.”

Before Mita could answer, something moved at the end of the hallway.

Black coat.

Golden eyes.

The same boy.

Standing perfectly still among hundreds of students.

No one else seemed to notice him.

He looked directly at her.

Then he mouthed three words.

It’s starting now.

The lights flickered.

Every phone screen in the hallway turned black.

Every conversation stopped.

For one impossible second…

Everything froze.

Students stood like statues.

Teachers stopped mid-step.

Even the humming lights became silent.

Only Mita could move.

Her breathing echoed through the hallway.

“What is happening?”

The boy walked calmly toward her.

Not a single frozen person reacted as he passed.

He stopped a few feet away.

“You remember more than expected.”

“I don’t even know who you are.”

“My name is Kael.”

His voice carried the calm certainty of someone stating the weather.

“You have exactly seven days before the first Rift opens.”

“What?”

“You are in danger.”

“I think you’ve got the wrong person.”

“I wish I did.”

The air behind him rippled.

Like heat rising from pavement.

A crack appeared in empty space.

Tiny.

Barely visible.

Yet somehow deeper than any tunnel.

Something inside it moved.

A hand.

Long.

Black.

Too many fingers.

Mita stumbled backward.

Kael’s expression changed instantly.

“No…”

The hand reached farther through the crack.

Reality bent around it.

The hallway walls twisted like reflections in water.

The frozen students remained motionless.

The creature pushed harder.

The crack widened.

Mita couldn’t breathe.

“What is that?”

Kael stepped between her and the Rift.

“They found you.”

“They?”

He didn’t answer.

Instead he pulled something from beneath his coat.

Not a weapon.

A silver pendant shaped exactly like the symbol from her dream.

It burst into brilliant white light.

The hallway vanished.

The creature screamed.

The sound wasn’t loud.

It simply existed inside her thoughts.

Then—

Everything snapped back.

Students laughed again.

Lockers slammed.

Teachers continued walking.

Phones lit up.

Nobody reacted.

Nobody noticed.

The crack was gone.

The creature had vanished.

Kael was already walking away.

“Wait!”

He stopped without turning around.

“If that was real…”

“It was.”

“…then why can’t anyone else remember?”

“Because this world protects itself.”

He looked back over his shoulder.

“And because they’re already asleep.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’ll understand soon.”

He stepped into the crowd.

Within seconds he was gone.

Impossible.

She searched everywhere.

Nothing.

Emma appeared beside her again.

“You okay?”

Mita looked around.

“You didn’t see him?”

“See who?”

“The boy.”

Emma frowned.

“What boy?”

The hallway was completely ordinary.

Students talked.

Someone laughed.

Someone dropped books.

No black coat.

No golden eyes.

Nothing.

Mita looked down at her notebook.

It was open inside her backpack.

She hadn’t opened it.

Across the page, beneath the star symbol she’d drawn that morning, someone had written a single sentence in silver ink.

The stars remember you.

She slowly reached toward the page.

The words dissolved into glowing dust.

The dust floated upward.

Then disappeared.

Mita closed the notebook with trembling hands.

For the first time in her life…

She wasn’t afraid of her dreams.

She was afraid they were memories.