The rain poured over Paris, turning the city into a blur of colors. Neon lights melted into the wet streets, like paintings running in the rain.
Rhea sat quietly in the metro, her forehead pressed against the cold window. Her breath made little foggy clouds on the glass.
But she wasn't really seeing the city. She was stuck in her mind, trapped by her latest dream—the twelfth one.
A palace burning.
A voice—V's voice—whispering her name like a prayer.
And something heavy between them, something left unsaid.
"Hey, you're zoning out again."
Sia nudged Rhea with her elbow, snapping her back. She held out a half-eaten croissant, crumbs stuck to her scarf.
"Eat. You look like you haven't slept in a week."
Rhea took the croissant but barely tasted it. "I haven't. Not really."
Sia frowned, concern in her eyes. "Still the dreams?"
Rhea swallowed hard, lowering her voice. "Worse than that."
She hesitated, then said quietly, "I saw him yesterday. Outside the café. Not dream V—the real V. Or at least… someone who looked like him."
Sia's eyes widened. "Wait, what? Like… a doppelgänger?"
"No." Rhea shook her head. "It was him. The way he moved. The way he—"
She stopped, heart racing. "I know how crazy it sounds."
The train screeched to a stop. Doors opened with a loud hiss, letting in cold wind. The smell of wet pavement and baked bread filled the air.
Sia linked arms with her. "Come on. We're getting off here."
"But this isn't our stop."
"I know." Sia smiled, but it was a worried smile. "You need a break."
They stepped off the train and into the city. Rain drizzled softly now, but the air was thick and heavy—like something unseen was watching them.
They walked past foggy bookshops and tiny cafés where people sipped coffee under umbrellas. Everything felt dreamlike, unreal.
And then—
Rhea saw him.
A figure in a long coat, standing in an alley. The sharp cut of his jaw, the way his hair fell across his forehead—too familiar.
Her breath caught.
"Rhea?" Sia looked at her. "What is it?"
"He's here."
Before Sia could stop her, Rhea ran. She pushed past people, her heart thudding in her chest.
The figure disappeared around the corner.
Rhea skidded to a stop at the alley entrance.
No one was there.
Only a single black feather lay on the wet ground, shining like ink.
She picked it up—and the world shifted.
A soft whisper brushed through her mind. A voice she knew too well:
"Find me before the 13th dream."
Then, silence.
Sia caught up, out of breath. "What the hell just happened?"
Rhea clutched the feather, her hand trembling. "It's a message."
---
That night, sleep came fast—like waves pulling her under.
When she opened her eyes, she was somewhere else.
A library.
Endless shelves, stretching into the darkness. Books bound in gold and leather. Candles floated in the air, their flames dancing silently.
And there he was.
V.
He leaned against a ladder, arms crossed. His suit was perfect, but his eyes—his eyes were different.
Darker. Sadder.
"You're late," he said.
"Late for what?" Rhea asked, her throat tight.
"The trial," he whispered. His voice was soft but sharp like glass.
"This is the 13th dream. You were supposed to find me before now."
Her stomach twisted.
"But I saw you," she argued. "In Paris."
"No." He stepped closer. His eyes locked onto hers. "That wasn't me. It was an echo. The worlds are starting to bleed together, Rhea. It's getting dangerous."
"Then tell me the truth!" she begged.
V's face darkened. He reached for her wrist, his fingers brushing the spot where the feather had touched her.
A shock of warmth rushed through her.
In that second, she saw flashes in her mind:
A battlefield.
A promise broken.
A curse whispered in the shadows.
Then the visions disappeared.
"You have to remember," V said softly. "Or we'll both be lost."
The library began to shake. Books fell from the shelves, pages flying like leaves in the wind.
Candles blinked out, one by one.
"Wake up, Rhea!" V shouted, grabbing her hand.
But it was too late.
The floor vanished beneath her.
And she fell.
Not into darkness—
Into fire.
She woke up gasping, tangled in her sheets. Her room was freezing cold. Her breath made little clouds in the air.
Outside, the sky was painted in soft pinks and golds—the first light of dawn.
Sia burst into the room, hair messy, eyes wide. "Rhea! Your phone's been blowing up!"
Rhea grabbed it, her fingers shaking.
A news alert flashed across the screen:
K-pop star V collapses during rehearsal. Hospitalized. Condition unknown.
Her blood turned to ice.
Sia's voice sounded far away. "Rhea? What's wrong?"
Rhea looked at her, eyes wide, vision blurry.
"It's starting."
She glanced at her nightstand.
The feather was still there.
Its edges were glowing gold.
And for the first time, Rhea understood:
This wasn't just a dream.
It was a warning.
To Be Continue....