Nightmare

Liora was running.

The world around her was nothing but shifting darkness, a maze of whispering shadows stretching endlessly in every direction. Cold air pressed against her skin, wrapping around her like unseen hands, trying to pull her back. She could hear them—voices, soft and hollow, calling her name from the depths of the abyss.

"Liora..."

She didn’t look back. She couldn’t.

Her bare feet hit the ground, though she wasn’t sure if there even was a ground. It felt like running on water, every step sinking slightly before pushing her forward again. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her chest tightening as if something unseen was wrapping around her ribs, squeezing the air from her lungs.

Then, she heard it.

A song.

It drifted through the darkness, soft and sorrowful, like a lullaby sung by someone who had long forgotten the meaning of sleep. The melody curled around her, threading through the cold emptiness, weaving itself into the very shadows that reached for her.

She knew this song.

It was the one she never dared to sing.

Her steps slowed. The whispers grew louder.

"Sing, Liora."

She tried to speak, but her voice was gone. Panic surged through her as she clutched her throat. Nothing. No sound. It was as if the darkness had stolen it, swallowed it whole.

The shadows surged forward, spiraling around her, thickening like a storm cloud ready to consume her. The song grew louder, almost pleading.

And then—she saw them.

Figures emerging from the darkness. People. Or what was left of them. Their faces were blurred, their bodies thin and weightless like smoke, their eyes nothing but empty voids. They stood in a circle around her, their mouths moving, singing the song she couldn’t.

She tried to scream, but still, nothing came out.

One figure stepped closer. It was smaller than the others, delicate and familiar. As the shadows shifted, Liora’s breath caught in her throat.

It was her.

Or rather, a reflection of herself—pale, hollow-eyed, lips parted as if singing the song that had been locked inside Liora for as long as she could remember.

The shadow-Liora reached out a hand. And as their fingers almost touched—

Liora woke up.

She bolted upright, chest heaving, heart pounding like a drum inside her ribs. Her room was dark, but not the suffocating blackness of her nightmare. Moonlight trickled through her window, soft and silver. She was safe.

But her throat ached.

As if, in another world, she had been screaming.

Liora stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at her reflection as if it belonged to someone else. Her dark hair was tangled from restless sleep, and faint shadows clung beneath her eyes—a lingering trace of the nightmare that still clung to her skin like damp fog.

She touched her throat. It didn’t hurt anymore, but the sensation of being voiceless in the dream unsettled her. Even now, she wasn’t sure if it had been just a dream… or something more.

A knock on the door made her flinch.

“Liora! You’re going to be late,” her mother called.

Snapping back to reality, Liora hurried to get ready. She pulled on her uniform—a crisp white blouse, navy blazer, and pleated skirt—before slinging her bag over her shoulder and heading out the door.

The morning air was crisp as she walked toward Eunha High School, the towering brick-and-glass building coming into view. The school was prestigious, known for its academic excellence, but to Liora, it was just a place where she blended into the background.

Students bustled through the gates, laughing in clusters, some half-asleep as they dragged themselves inside. Liora kept her head down, weaving through the crowd unnoticed. That was how she preferred it—no attention, no expectations.

But as she stepped into the school hallway, something felt… different.

Whispers.

They curled around her like invisible threads, not in the usual way students gossiped about weekend drama. This was something else.

"Did you hear? Someone saw her sleep-talking in class yesterday."

"Weird, right? Like she was saying something… but no one could understand her."

"Maybe she’s just—"

Liora’s hands tightened around the straps of her bag. Her heart pounded.

She didn’t remember sleep-talking. She barely even spoke at school.

Had her nightmare followed her into the real world?

As she reached her classroom, she hesitated at the door. Then—

“Liora!”

A soft, cheerful voice broke through her thoughts.

She turned.

Standing there was Mina—small, bright-eyed, and effortlessly adorable, like a character straight out of a shoujo manga. Her honey-blonde hair was tied up in two messy buns, a few stray strands framing her round face. She was hugging her notebook to her chest, rocking on the balls of her feet as she smiled up at Liora.

“You okay?” Mina asked, tilting her head slightly.

Liora blinked. No one ever really asked her that. Not in a way that felt real.

“I…” The word barely left her lips before she hesitated. She should just say she was fine, brush it off like she always did. But something in the way Mina looked at her—soft, curious, like she actually cared—made her pause.

Before she could answer, the bell rang.

Mina pouted. “Aw, guess you’ll have to tell me later.” She reached out, gently squeezing Liora’s hand before skipping past her into the classroom.

Liora stood frozen in place, the warmth of Mina’s touch lingering against her skin.

Something was changing.

She just didn’t know what yet.

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