Wind brushed against Jael Madlock's face like a cool whisper. He sat on the very edge of the top floor of the skyscraper, legs dangling freely into open air, a thousand feet of nothing beneath him. The city stretched outward in a sprawl of concrete and glittering glass, but his gaze wasn't on the view — it was on her.
The girl.
She stood only a few paces away, her figure outlined bright against the sky. Fair skin seemed to glow under the sun's soft rays, long black hair dancing like ribbons in the wind. Her eyes — dark and deep — reflected the entire skyline. She was too calm, too serene, as though the danger simply did not exist for her.
Jael swallowed hard, unable to tear his eyes away.
"What are we doing here?" he asked, voice tight. "Aren't you afraid at all?"
The girl turned slowly toward him — a smile unfurling upon her lips. It wasn't mocking, nor playful. Just… wrong. Too knowing. It sent a cold ripple down Jael's spine.
Without answering, she stepped even closer to the edge. Then she stood — toes hanging into the void — her arms opening slightly as if she could embrace the wind itself. Every casual movement she made felt deliberate… savoring… indulging.
Finally, she spoke. "Isn't it beautiful?" she asked, gaze stretching out over the city. "The view. Sometimes you must overcome fear to see the beauty of the world."
Jael shifted, heart pounding harder.
"That's not the point," he replied, forcing a shaky laugh. "Aren't you afraid of… you know… dying? One wrong move and—"
She glanced at him over her shoulder, her smile widening, eyes darkening.
"In this world full of illusions…"
Then the skyscraper vanished.
The city, the wind, the dizzying heights — all gone in the blink of an eye.
Jael gasped.
They now stood on rolling hills covered in emerald grass, stretching as far as he could see. A gentle breeze carried the scent of flowers and warm earth. Birds sang somewhere distant, and the sky vaulted above them in a perfect blue dome.
His breath caught in his throat as the sunlight shifted unnaturally, like a curtain peeling back.
She stepped off the ledge — but there was no ledge anymore. Only soft, living earth beneath her feet. Her smile grew impossibly wider, like she was delighted by his bewilderment.
"…the only certainty," she continued, "is death."
Jael's pulse hammered through him.
"What does that mean?" he demanded. "What are you saying?"
He blinked — and she was gone.
Not vanished into thin air — simply no longer in front of him. His muscles locked, and cold dread crawled up his spine.
Then her hand — gentle yet undeniably real — settled on his shoulder from behind.
Jael flinched, frozen.
"You," she whispered, voice brushing his ear like breath. "You're the only one who can find the answer."
Darkness swallowed everything. As if someone had blown out the sun.
Jael tumbled through black, weightless and falling, the world dissolving—
"Jael! Dude — wake up!"
Jael shot upright, nearly knocking over his desk. The classroom snapped into existence around him — blinding lights, chalk dust, rows of students. His head spun.
Julius Serano — best friend, loudmouth, and chronic trouble magnet — hovered beside him, shaking his shoulder urgently.
But it wasn't Julius that froze Jael's blood.
It was the man standing at the front of the room.
Mr. Santos, arms tightly crossed. Eyes sharp. Mustache twitching like a live wire.
"Well," he said, voice too calm. "It seems my class is so easy for you that sleep is far more interesting, Mr. Madlock."
A few students snickered. Julius winced.
Jael tried to breathe normally — but his heart continued slamming against his ribs, adrenaline refusing to fade.
"S-Sir, I—"
"Is that your excuse?" Mr. Santos cut in. "Spare me. Since you're so… comfortable… perhaps you'd enjoy standing through the rest of my class. You might find the view enlightening."
The irony squeezed Jael's chest.
"Yes, sir…"
He forced himself to stand despite trembling knees. The world spun for a moment — skyscraper, hills, darkness — flashes of the surreal vision clinging to his senses.
Mr. Santos resumed his lecture. Something about Trigonometry. The graph of trigonometric functions. Nothing Jael could focus on. His mind was still falling.
Jael clenched the edge of the desk behind him, grounding himself.
He knew what he saw.
And he knew why.
He had been warned all his life that moments like this would come — moments when the unseen world pressed too close.
His grandfather's voice echoed from memory:
"This is the curse of the Madlock's family. You must never speak of what you see and learn, Jael. Not to your friends. Not to your teachers. Not to anyone."
Jael had learned the truth years ago, long before he was ready. The war that made his grandfather a hero? The stories the town praised?
Half-truths.
The real enemy had not been other men.
His family — the Madlocks — guarded a different battlefield entirely. One unseen. One that should never be known by ordinary people.
Jael lifted his hand, pressing his fingers against his temple, trying to chase away the lingering presence of the girl. But her whisper haunted him like a chill:
"You're the only one who can find the answer."
Why him?
Why now?
A whisper brushed his ear before he could push the thought away.
"Jael…"
He froze.
It was her voice.
His blood turned to ice. Slowly, he turned his head — expecting to see her, inches away, smiling with that knowing grin.
But there was no one there.
Just a flicker of black hair at the very edge of his sight — gone when he blinked.
She's not real, he told himself.
But that was the problem. Some illusions in the Madlock world were real — too real.
A soft poke tapped his shoulder.
Jael jerked — eyes wide — only to find Julius holding out a small folded note.
He accepted it with shaking fingers.
You okay? You look like you saw a ghost.
Jael scribbled back quickly.
Just a bad dream.
Really bad.
Julius read it and nodded.
If it's about the math quiz, same bro. I was sweating bullets last night.
Jael almost smiled — almost. Julius had a talent for dragging normalcy back into view. But normal didn't feel reachable today.
The bell rang — a sound Jael had never been more grateful to hear. Students shot up, chairs scraping loudly. Mr. Santos gave him one last glare of "We'll talk again," while Jael grabbed his bag like a lifeline.
Julius slung an arm over his shoulder with his usual confidence.
"Alright, spill. What nightmare makes someone flinch like a cat seeing a cucumber?"
Jael snorted faintly. "It was… different." He hoped his friend wouldn't ask what he wanted to forget, but curiosity got the better of his friend.
"Oooh," Julius wiggled his eyebrows. "Different, like romantic? Tall girl, twinkling stars, destiny?"
Jael's heart skipped before his brain could deny it — skyscraper rooftop, long black hair —
"No," he insisted quickly. "Not like that."
"Tragic." Julius sighed dramatically. "I was rooting for your nonexistent love life."
They walked down the hall, choked with the usual chaos: laughing groups, slamming lockers, someone yelling about lunchtime beef patties being a conspiracy.
Normal things.
Jael's eyes darted. He observed walls, corners, shadows — hunting for slipping illusions.
Because he knew what his grandfather drilled into him since childhood:
"The world isn't just what they see, but what we see. Ignore those you can't touch, but never ignore those that can harm you... The most dangerous are those humans do."
He grabbed his pendant. It was given by his grandfather for him to live a normal life outside.
He couldn't tell Julius. Not even a hint. His family's secret was a boundary sealed with heavy warning.
"Jael," Julius whispered, snapping him out of thought. "You sure you're good? You're pale, dude. Like zombie-after-midterms pale."
Jael exhaled. "I told you. A weird dream."
Julius squinted. "Weird like flying ninjas and killer clowns? Or weird like—"
Before he could finish, Julius stopped talking. His eyes drifted past Jael's shoulder — brow furrowing.
"You… might want to stop looking like that."
"Looking like what?" Jael asked.
"Like someone who thinks ghosts are real and following him right now."
Jael stiffened.
He turned.
At the far end of the hallway — where the bright sunlight met the shadow of a corner — stood a figure.
Long black hair.
Fair skin.
Unmoving. Watching.
His pulse detonated.
But when a student walked past — blocking his vision for half a second — she was gone.
Julius was still beside him, clueless to the terror unfurling inside Jael's chest.
He had been raised to hide what he saw.
He had been trained to deny and suppress.
But the girl's voice echoed louder than fear:
"You're the only one who can find the answer."
He didn't know the question.
He didn't know the stakes.
He only knew this —
The dream he had wasn't a dream at all. It was a prophecy. A warning.
Whatever he saw on that rooftop wasn't finished with him.