First message
For months, my nights have been hijacked by a pair of striking eyes and a voice that feels like it’s echoing from the bottom of an ocean, and frankly, I’m losing my mind trying to figure out why she keeps haunting my subconscious. Ever since Halloween night, every time I close my eyes, I’m pulled into the dreams of a fiercely intuitive psychic girl—a mortal who shouldn't be able to peer past the veil, let alone anchor herself so firmly in my eternal sleep. I’ve been trying to send her a message, to warn her about the dangerous convergence of our worlds, but dreamscapes are fickle things, and I always wake up before I can tell her the truth. Then today, the impossible happened: I saw her standing across the crowded coffee shop, her breath hitching as our eyes locked in sudden, undeniable recognition. The human part of me—the facade I wear that makes me look like an ordinary twenty-three-year-old guy—wants nothing more than to walk over, take her hand, and stay in the warmth of her gaze forever. But the ancient, non-human reality of what I am screams a warning, because once a psychic binds her soul to a creature of the dark, there is no waking up from the nightmare.