Chapter 1
Chapter One: The First Dream
Some dreams reveal the future. Others are invitations—and not every invitation can be refused.
Rain had been falling over the university for nearly an hour when Shamas finally gave up on studying.
He stared at the same paragraph in his textbook, his pen motionless between his fingers. Outside, the wind rattled the old hostel windows, and distant thunder rolled across the sky. Every few seconds, lightning illuminated his room, revealing the untidy books scattered across his desk.
Shamas dropped his pen.
“Lectures all day, assignments all evening, and exams all night,” he muttered. “Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful.”
The yellow light of his desk lamp flickered.
He looked up at it, waited for it to settle, and returned to his book. He had a lecture in the morning, an assignment to finish, and no intention of letting a little rain distract him.
At least, that was what he told himself.
Shamas was in his fifth semester at university. His life was ordinary, and he preferred to keep it that way. He was not someone who enjoyed drawing attention to himself. He rarely shared his problems, rarely asked for help, and had learned to hide exhaustion behind a quiet expression.
People sometimes assumed that nothing bothered him.
They were wrong.
He simply believed that worrying about a problem in front of other people did not make it easier to solve.
His phone vibrated beside his notebook.
Saira Begum — Missed Call.
His expression softened.
He immediately called his mother back.
She answered almost at once.
“Beta, are you still awake?”
“Yes, Mother. I was studying.”
“Of course you were.” Her voice carried the familiar warmth he had missed since leaving home. “And have you eaten?”
Shamas glanced at the food sitting untouched beside his books.
“Yes.”
A short silence followed.
“Shamas.”
He closed his eyes. “What?”
“Don't lie to me. I can recognise your lies even through the phone.”
A reluctant smile crossed his face.
“All right. I haven't eaten yet. I was going to eat after finishing this chapter.”
“You said the same thing yesterday.”
“Yesterday was different.”
“And the day before?”
“That was also different.”
Saira Begum sighed, but he could hear the smile in her voice.
“One day, you will argue with me so much that I will come to your university myself.”
“Then I will finally get a proper meal.”
“You think you're very clever, don't you?”
“Only sometimes.”
For a few seconds, the conversation felt wonderfully ordinary. Shamas could almost imagine sitting at home, listening to his mother's familiar complaints while the world outside carried on without demanding anything from him.
Then her voice changed.
“Shamas…”
He straightened slightly.
“Yes, Mother?”
“I don't know why, but I feel very restless tonight.”
His smile faded.
“Are you feeling unwell?”
“No. Nothing like that.” She hesitated. “It's just a strange feeling. As if something is about to happen.”
Shamas glanced toward the rain-streaked window.
“Perhaps you're worried about me.”
“Perhaps.”
“I'm fine, Mother. I promise.”
“I know, beta. Just take care of yourself.”
“I will.”
“And eat something before you sleep.”
He smiled faintly. “Yes, Mother.”
When the call ended, Shamas kept the phone against his ear for another moment before lowering it.
Something is about to happen.
He shook his head, annoyed with himself for allowing a simple conversation to unsettle him.
His mother was probably tired. The weather was unpleasant, and the night had made everything feel more serious than it really was.
There was a reasonable explanation for everything.
At least, there usually was.
Shamas placed his phone on the desk and stood. His back ached from sitting for so long, and his eyes felt heavy. He walked to the window, intending to close it properly before going to bed.
A cold gust of wind brushed his face.
Across the dark campus stood the old university library.
It was one of the oldest buildings on the grounds, built from weathered stone and partly covered in thick vines. During the day, students passed it without giving it much thought. At night, however, its tall windows and shadowed walls made it seem strangely separate from the rest of the university.
There were rumours about the building.
Some students claimed that an underground chamber lay beneath it, constructed by a nobleman long before the university had existed. Others said the chamber had been sealed for generations.
Nobody seemed to know what was true.
Shamas had never cared enough to investigate.
Tonight, he found himself staring at the highest window.
Something stood behind the glass.
A human-shaped shadow.
He stopped breathing for a moment.
The figure was too far away for him to make out its features, but he was certain that it was facing his direction.
Watching him.
“Who's there?” he whispered.
Thunder cracked overhead.
Lightning flashed, flooding the campus with white light.
For an instant, the library's upper window became perfectly clear.
It was empty.
Shamas leaned closer.
Nothing moved behind the glass. No light appeared inside the building, and the surrounding branches swayed beneath the rain.
He remained at the window for several seconds, searching for an explanation.
Then he forced himself to step back.
“I'm exhausted. That's all.”
He closed the window, checked the lock, and switched off his desk lamp.
The room fell into darkness.
Shamas lay down, pulling the blanket over himself. He tried to think about tomorrow's lecture, his unfinished assignment, and all the ordinary responsibilities waiting for him.
Slowly, the sound of rain became distant.
His eyes closed.
And somewhere beneath the university, something ancient stirred.
He was standing in a corridor that had no end.
Cold stone stretched beneath his feet. Tall bookshelves rose along both walls, disappearing into a misty darkness above. Old torch holders were fixed between them, but not a single flame burned in their empty brackets.
Yet the corridor was not entirely dark.
A strange blue-and-golden glow shone from somewhere ahead.
Shamas turned around.
There was no door.
No window.
No sign of the room where he had fallen asleep.
Only the corridor, stretching behind him into the mist.
“Hello?”
His voice travelled through the empty passage.
Hello… hello… hello…
He waited.
Nothing answered.
“Is anyone here?”
The silence that followed felt deliberate.
Shamas began walking.
Every step echoed against the stone floor. As he passed the shelves, he noticed that the books were unlike any he had ever seen. Some had silver symbols engraved on their covers. Others shimmered faintly, as if light moved beneath their leather bindings. Thin trails of smoke curled from several volumes, disappearing before they reached the ceiling.
He stopped beside one shelf.
A symbol had been carved into the stone above it: a circle surrounded by seven small stars.
He reached toward it.
Before his fingers could touch the wall, a book slid out of the shelf.
Shamas jumped back.
The book floated into the centre of the corridor and stopped directly in front of him.
Its cover was black, worn around the edges, and marked with a silver crescent moon. Inside the crescent burned a single star.
The symbol glowed.
Shamas stared at it, unable to look away.
Then the book opened by itself.
One page turned.
Then another.
Within seconds, the pages were fluttering wildly, though the air around him remained perfectly still.
A faint light escaped between them.
It spread across the floor, climbed the bookshelves, and illuminated the strange symbols carved into the walls.
The corridor trembled.
Shamas raised an arm to protect his eyes.
“What is this?”
The book's pages stopped turning.
A whisper slipped through the corridor.
“Shamas…”
He spun around.
At the far end of the passage stood a girl wearing a pale blue dress. Her hair fell loosely to her shoulders, and her expression mirrored his own confusion.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Shamas took a cautious step toward her.
“Who are you?”
The girl looked at him, but her attention quickly returned to the floating book.
“That book…”
“What about it?”
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
“I've seen it before.”
Shamas frowned. “Where?”
“In a dream.”
Before he could ask another question, the book's silver crescent flashed.
And the girl suddenly looked afraid.
Because she had not dreamed of the book alone.
She had dreamed of the corridor, too.
And in that dream, someone had been standing behind Shamas.
Someone who had no face.
The girl opened her mouth to warn him.
But before she could speak, another voice rang out through the darkness.
“Is anyone here?”
Footsteps rushed toward them.
Shamas turned as two more girls emerged from the mist, one holding tightly to the other's hand.
And the ancient book opened its pages once again.
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