A gentle breeze across her neck was the first thing Sophie noticed. With the cover her long brown wavy locks had always provided, the breeze was something she wasn't accustomed to. It sent a shiver down her spine, not because of the cold, but because something was wrong. Something was missing.
She reached back instinctively to feel her hair, only to find bare skin all the way to her ears.
Weird.
Then her hands caught her attention. They were larger than they should be—long-boned, calloused, not the delicate, soft hands she was used to. Panic flickered in her chest. She looked down to find her feet encased in rugged boots. The shape of her legs, even the weight of her limbs—they weren't right. Her entire body was hers… and yet, completely foreign.
A sharp brightness pierced her eyes.
She turned, shielding her face. The room around her had no corners, no walls—just a vast white void. And standing in the middle of it was a man cloaked in darkness, his features hidden beneath a hood.
He raised a hand but said nothing at first. Sophie felt her breath catch in her throat. Despite the absence of detail, she knew him. Not from memory, but from the feeling he carried.
Familiar. Like déjà vu mixed with the echo of something sacred.
He finally spoke. "Trust your instincts, follow your heart… and save us all."
Wind chimes tinkled in the distance, the delicate sound growing fainter as if being carried away.
Then—
"Sophie."
She shot up in bed, drenched in sweat. Her mother's palm was on her forehead, warm and grounding. Her chest rose and fell in shallow, rapid breaths.
Another dream.
They were becoming more frequent—and more detailed.
"Honey, are you all right?" her mother asked gently, worry creasing her forehead.
Sophie managed a nod. "Just a weird dream. Again."
Her mother sighed. "Honestly, I thought the wind and chimes would help relax you. But you're just as rattled as ever."
She muttered something under her breath in Spanish, then walked toward the window to open the blinds. Morning light spilled into the room, making Sophie squint.
She groaned. "It's not really the best replacement for an alarm clock."
Dragging herself out of bed, she shuffled toward the bathroom.
Sophie stared at the girl in the mirror.
Eyes tired. Hair a frizzy mess. Dried drool on her cheek. She sighed.
After a hot shower and half a bottle of detangler, she picked out her usual outfit: white tank top, black denim jacket, black-and-white ripped jeans, and her worn-in white Vans. Simple. Comfortable. Hers.
On her bed lay untouched shopping bags—makeup kits and designer clothes her mom had clearly bought during another spree.
Not her style. Not her problem.
Downstairs, the aroma of coffee and cinnamon toast greeted her.
"Good morning, Sophia," sang her fifteen-year-old brother Jake, his devilish grin in place.
She shot him a glare.
Jake knew she hated her full name. Which is exactly why he used it.
"Still having your midnight horror movie marathons in dreamland?" he teased.
"Eat your toast, troll," she grumbled.
Their mother, Taylor Reese, turned from the stove and sighed when she saw Sophie's outfit.
"Sophie, I specifically laid out a new outfit for you this morning."
"Yeah, I know. Didn't feel like it today."
"Heaven forbid you have a rebellious streak," her mom muttered, setting down a plate.
"I'm leaving. I'm late anyway," Sophie replied, grabbing her bag.
As she reached the front door, her mother called out, "Oh, Sophie! Don't forget to stop by the office after school. Your father asked for you."
Sophie groaned. "I don't want to go to the office! I've already been three times this week."
"You know why, honey. You'll run the company one day."
"But I'm sixteen!" she snapped. "I have cheer practice today."
"And I have investors to impress," her mom countered. "And a company to run while your father recovers. We all make sacrifices."
Sophie rolled her eyes and slammed the door behind her.
The wind outside tousled her hair, and for a moment, she heard it again—the faint sound of chimes.
She froze. Turned.
Nothing.
Elsewhere
In a chamber deep beneath blackened skies, a woman with a frail voice was chained to stone. Beside her crouched a creature of shadow and light, feline in shape but dragon-blooded.
"Can you feel her essence?" the woman asked.
"Yes," the creature rumbled. "But faintly."
"Send a message to my sister. Tell her… she's almost ready."