Kira lay back on her bed, she had just came back from Ace's house, phone balanced with both hand, staring at the ceiling.
Her screen buzzed.
📱 The Girls
Mira:
So. We're not even going to pretend nothing happened today, right?
Kira sighed and started typing.
Kira:
Nothing happened.
Almost immediately—
Amber:
That's what people say when something definitely happened.
Issa:
You and Ace. Same project. Same house. Coincidence? I think not.
Kira rolled onto her side.
Kira:
It was just economics. We talked. We worked. End of story.
Lisa:
Did you finish the outline at least?
Kira smiled faintly.
Kira:
Yes. He's… surprisingly focused.
There was a pause.
Then—
Mira:
That's not a denial.
Amber:
At all.
Issa:
Did it get awkward?
Kira hesitated, then typed:
Kira:
Not awkward. Just… quiet.
Lisa:
Quiet can be dangerous.
Kira laughed softly.
Kira:
You're all dramatic. It's just a project.
Mira:
Sure. For now.
Amber:
We'll revisit this later.
Issa:
Sleep well, future economist.
Kira shook her head, locking her phone.
The room fell silent again.
But her thoughts didn't.
___________
THAT NIGHT
Lisa was asleep in her room, the house wrapped in midnight silence.
Her body lay still beneath the sheets—but her eyes were open.
Not wide. Not startled.
Just… open.
Her irises shimmered faintly, not glowing, not darkened—only altered, as if reality itself had thinned inside them. To anyone passing by, she would look like a girl caught in a strange phase of sleep. But Lisa was dreaming.
And she wasn't in her room anymore.
She stood in a place that felt neither solid nor unreal. The ground beneath her feet looked like glass layered over memories—soft ripples of moments she didn't recognize but somehow knew. The air was warm, heavy with emotion rather than sound.
Then she saw her.
"Mom…?" Lisa whispered.
Her mother stood a few steps away, exactly as she remembered her—not sick, not fading, not distant. Whole. Calm. Real. The kind of real that hurt.
Lisa took a step forward, her chest tightening.
"I thought you were—"
"I am," her mother said gently, smiling.
"But dreams are bridges, Lisa. And tonight, you were ready to cross."
Her mother reached out, pressing a hand over Lisa's heart. The touch burned—not painfully, but deeply, like something long asleep being stirred awake.
"You've carried this power since before you understood loss," her mother continued. "Dreams. Visions. The past that lingers, the future that whispers, the truths hidden between moments. They were never mine alone—I was only keeping them safe."
Light—soft, silver-blue—threaded itself from her mother's hand into Lisa's chest. Memories flooded in that weren't Lisa's: futures that hadn't happened, faces she hadn't met, echoes of things that would be.
Lisa gasped.
"I don't understand," she said, her voice trembling. "Why now?"
"Because the world is moving," her mother replied quietly. "And so are you."
The light faded. Her mother stepped back, already beginning to blur at the edges.
"Will I see you again?" Lisa asked, panic breaking through.
Her mother's smile was tender—and sad.
"You will see me in every dream that matters."
The realm dissolved.
Lisa's eyes closed at last.
In her room, the night returned to normal. No light. No sound. No sign of anything divine.
Except for Lisa's slow, unsteady breath…
and the way the shadows on her walls subtly shifted, as if watching.
She didn't wake knowing what she was.
But somewhere deep inside her, something ancient had opened its eyes.
________________
THE NEXT DAY
Lisa arrived at school earlier than usual.
Her steps were quick, her bag held too tightly against her shoulder. Fear buzzed beneath her skin—but so did something else. Excitement. A quiet pull, like something inside her had awakened and hadn't settled yet.
She spotted Kira and Damon standing just outside their classroom, talking softly before first period.
"Hey," Lisa called, a little too urgently.
Both of them turned.
Lisa stopped in front of them, breath uneven. "I—I need to tell you something. Something happened last night."
Kira studied her carefully. "You look like you didn't sleep."
"I did," Lisa said. "But… I wasn't just dreaming."
Damon raised an eyebrow. "That's never a good start."
Lisa tried to explain. Words failed her. Her hands lifted, then fell again.
"I saw my mom," she said quietly. "She talked to me. She said she was giving me her power. I felt it—but I don't know how to describe what I saw. It was past and future and… everything at once."
Kira's expression softened instantly.
"Lisa," she said gently, "slow down."
"I can't," Lisa whispered. "It's still there."
Without meaning to, Lisa reached out—fingers brushing Kira's wrist, then Damon's hand.
It felt like a spark.
Not forceful. Not intentional.
Just awake.
The hallway stayed the same.
But suddenly—
The world layered.
Images bled into the air around them like reflections on glass:
A younger Lisa, laughing with her mother.
Kira standing beneath a sky fractured with light.
Damon at a crossroads, countless paths branching away from him, some bright, some dark.
Damon sucked in a breath. "Okay… I'm definitely seeing things."
Kira's eyes widened, awe flickering beneath her calm. "Lisa. This is a vision."
Lisa pulled her hands back, shaking. "I didn't mean to show you. I swear I didn't."
The images trembled, reacting to her panic.
"My mom said this was hers," Lisa whispered. "Dreams. Memories. What was, what is, what could be."
Damon stared at the fading visions, then at Lisa. "So you didn't move us anywhere. You just… opened a window."
"Yes," Kira said softly. "And we're standing inside it."
Slowly, the images dissolved, like mist under sunlight.
The hallway returned to normal.
Students passed by. Lockers slammed.
The bell hadn't rung yet.
No one noticed a thing.
Lisa pressed a hand to her chest. "I don't know how to control it."
Kira smiled—warm, proud. "You will."
Damon gave a small grin. "And when you accidentally show me my future again, at least give me a warning."
Lisa laughed shakily, relief washing over her.
But deep inside her, something stirred—
not asleep anymore…
and not done showing itself.