__________Ethan__________

Fifteen years. That’s how long it’s been since dreams disappeared.

I don’t really know what they felt like—what it was like to wake up with the echoes of something strange and beautiful.

I was too young when it happened. Too young to understand what was being taken from us.

For me, dreams are just stories—something I’ve only ever heard about from people older than me, from books and old videos where people talk about them like they were this incredible, untouchable experience. A place where anything could happen. A place that only existed inside your own mind.

I hear it on the news every morning.

“Dreamless: The Phenomenon Explained.”

It’s always the same. Some nervous-looking anchor, her face pale under the bright studio lights, talking about how scientists still have no explanation for why no one dreams anymore. People post about it all the time, asking if anyone has figured it out yet, if anyone has an answer. No one does.

People wake up, go through the motions, and try not to think about it. But it shows. You can see it in their faces—tired, hollow, like something inside them is missing.

But that’s not even the weirdest part.

Because when dreams disappeared, something else started happening.

People started changing.

They call them Seers—people who woke up one day with strange abilities, things that shouldn’t be possible. At first, there were only a handful. A few scattered reports across the world—people claiming they could do things no normal human should be able to do. Most thought it was a hoax. A trick of the mind. Some new mass hysteria born from the loss of dreams.

But then there were more.

Not a sudden flood—nothing dramatic like a movie where the whole world changes overnight. Instead, Seers started appearing little by little, a slow but undeniable trickle of impossibility creeping into everyday life. The first ones were treated like freaks, anomalies that governments and scientists scrambled to study, to explain.

And then it became clear.

This wasn’t stopping.

More people Awakened, and the world had no choice but to evolve.

Governments created organizations to monitor them. Laws were adjusted. Society, at first resistant, started adapting—companies hired Seers for their abilities, security forces learned to handle both threats and opportunities that came with them, and specialized schools were built to train them.

By the time I was old enough to understand any of it, Seers had become just another part of life. Still rare—only a fraction of the population Awakened—but no longer a mystery.

Some could bend reality itself. Some were strong enough to fight the monsters that came along with this new, dreamless world. While…

Me? I’m just trying to get through high school.

I’m sitting at the back of the classroom, staring out the window.

It’s not like there’s anything interesting outside—just the same sky, the same buildings, the same streets I see every day. But it’s better than paying attention.

I ran a hand through my black hair, the strands falling just above my eyebrows as always. In the reflection of the classroom window, I caught a glimpse of myself—light tan skin, normal brown eyes, nothing remarkable. Just the same face I saw every morning.

The classroom buzzed with the usual noise—chairs scraping, footsteps shuffling, voices overlapping in pointless conversations. Someone flipped through the pages of a notebook, like they were actually going to pay attention, but let’s be real—we all knew that was a lie. The faint smell of chalk dust lingered in the air, mixing with the usual classroom scents—old paper, worn-out textbooks, and that one guy who always wore way too much cologne.

And then, just as I’m starting to drift, my view suddenly disappears.

I blink.

Dark green eyes are staring right at me.

Mia.

She’s standing in front of my desk, completely blocking my view of the window with a stupid, smug grin on her face. Strands of dark auburn hair fall over her freckled face, the tiny specks of brown dusting her cheeks making her look harmless—if I didn’t already know better. Her petite frame shifts as she leans forward, making sure I really can’t look past her.

"You’re daydreaming again!" she accuses, leaning forward like she’s making sure I really can’t look past her.

I roll my eyes, smirking as I shake off whatever thoughts I was lost in. "Oh, as if I could. No one can dream anymore."

Mia just raises an eyebrow. Her grin gets even wider. "Oh? Maybe you were thinking about me?"

I snort. "Hell no."

Mia gasps like I just slapped her. Then, before I can react, she wraps her arms around my shoulders and practically drapes herself over me.

"Come on, come on, admit it! You were totally daydreaming about me!"

I groan, trying to push her off. "No way! Get off me! You smell like bagoong!" I pretend to gag for extra effect.

She cackles.

"Oh, like you smell any better! Admit it, Ethan, I’m in your dreams!"

I finally manage to shove her away, scooting my chair back to put some distance between us. "Dreams? More like nightmares," I say flatly. "Now get away from me before I toss you out the window."

Mia steps back with a satisfied smile, like she just won something.

I point lazily toward the glass, smirking. “And we can’t dream anymore.” I spoke.

Then, the playful energy between us fades just a little.

"Yeah," she says, quieter this time. "We can’t dream anymore."

Something in the way she says it makes my smirk drop for a second.

But then she lifts her chin and says, "But we can still imagine, you know?"

I roll my eyes. "It’s the same thing."

"No, it’s not!" she shoots back instantly, like she was waiting for me to say that. "Imagination is what keeps us going! It’s about creating our own stories."

I give her a look. "So you’re imagining that I’m daydreaming about you?"

Mia freezes.

Then, to my absolute satisfaction, her face explodes into a deep red blush.

"N-No!"

I lean back in my chair, folding my arms behind my head. "Uh-huh, sure."

She opens her mouth, probably about to throw something at me, but before she can, the classroom door swings open.

"Alright, everyone, settle down!"

Mia lets out a dramatic sigh and finally retreats to her desk.

As she sits down, I catch the tiny smile she tries to hide behind her notebook.

I shake my head, fighting back a grin of my own.

Maybe she’s right. Maybe imagination is different from dreaming.

But I’m not about to admit that to her.

The teacher cleared his throat, and just like that, the classroom fell silent. "Let's begin."

And so, another thrilling lesson began.

I tried to focus. I really did. But my mind drifted, my notes turning into nothing but half-scribbled words and random doodles. The teacher’s voice blurred into background noise, blending with the soft scratch of pencils and the occasional murmur of a bored student.

Time stretched. Minutes crawled.

And then—finally—the bell rang.

Snapping back to the present, I wasted no time gathering my things. The second I stepped into the hallway, the energy of students breaking free from another school day filled the air. Chatter, laughter, the occasional shove—just the usual flood of teenagers desperate to escape.

As I made my way through the crowd, I pulled my phone out of my pocket.

"REAL OR FAKE? NIGHTBORN CAUGHT SPEAKING ON CAMERA"

Oh, great. Another one of these.

The thumbnail is grainy—a snow-covered street at night, dimly lit by a flickering streetlamp. The title is racking up views fast, the comments already a mess of reactions.

• *"That has to be edited. Nightborn don’t talk."
• *"Scripted?"
• *"Nah, that last part was real."
• *"Fake as hell. Why does the cameraman always cut it right before the important part?"

I exhale sharply. This is gonna be stupid.