Someone nestled under soft covers, surrounded by the gentle scent of fabric softener and the cozy warmth of the bed.
The room was plunged into twilight when a phone screen suddenly lit up, tinting everything with a dusky glow.
An insistent buzz vibrated on the nightstand, pulling him from the comfort of sleep.
"A wake‑up alarm?" he thought, confused.
Still reluctant, he reached out and turned off the alarm. The screen read: 05:05 – May 20, 2025.
Tuesday. Workday.
With a sigh, he stretched, trying to shake off the early‑morning torpor.
His mind still wandered through the remnants of a dream—'Shadow Slave'.
A laugh escaped him unintentionally.
It was one of his favorite stories, and he knew those characters like old friends.
He rose and headed for the bathroom.
He brushed his teeth automatically, each movement a reflex from countless mornings before.
As he prepared, flashes of the dream assailed him:
He had "been" in that world, talked with Sunless, watched Nephis, and, amid it all, there was Cássia by his side.
The hot shower water dispelled the last of his sleep.
But what intrigued him most was the intensity of the experience. He knew his memory was good, but that… that felt real.
Dressing, the details began to dissolve, evaporating like mist in the sun. Only scattered fragments remained, blending into reality.
He sipped his coffee slowly, the strong aroma helping to anchor him in routine.
The dream's sensation faded, replaced by the monotony of habitual mornings.
Before leaving, he grabbed his phone and checked the time.
A faint trace of excitement resonated within him—a nearly childlike nostalgia for the universe he had inhabited for a few hours.
He smiled.
"Imagining so much in a dream… was fun."
He closed the door and felt the cool morning air against his face.
On the way to the subway, the rhythmic steps and murmur of voices brought him back to reality.
But as he descended the station stairs, an insistent thought arose:
"What if I could go back?"
***
Someone's days flew by.
In the big city, the subway was a parade of strange faces, endless noise, and visual pollution that hid even the stars.
There were nights when not even the Moon dared to shine.
He felt a stranger in the crowd—a silent observer, always out of place.
***
Someone's dreams began.
They weren't just common dreams, but fragments of something that felt more real than his own life.
They were glimpses of a simple home, of a smiling mother whose gaze overflowed with love and a concern always masked by sweetness.
"Am I going insane?"
The dissonance began with that first inexplicably vivid dream.
He no longer remembered the details, only the overwhelming certainty that it had been real.
But how could it be?
If that world truly existed, would he be in the First Nightmare? How could he know the story's future? How would something like that appear in his mind, disguised as mere literary fantasy?
"And those memories? They… don't belong to me?"
What if he were ill? What if he were schizophrenic?
The days continued their passage…
***
Someone's nightmare began.
It was horrific.
He watched his humble life collapse into absolute chaos. Screams echoed around him, and the shadow of his mother dissolved before his eyes.
He woke gasping, heart pounding.
And, as if a veil were torn away, the truth hit him full force:
He had no family. No genuine childhood memories. Only gaps.
They were only fragments—fragments that existed only in his dreams.
Panicked, he searched for records, documents, anything to confirm his existence.
But there was nothing. No photo. No birth certificate. No trace.
Nothing.
Horrified, he whispered to himself:
"I'm living in a nightmare…"
Over time, the idea of seeking answers became a burden.
Despair crept into his thoughts, and routine became a prison.
The world around him lost its luster.
Then, on a morning like any other, while waiting for the subway, a thought slid into his mind:
"What if I just…?"
The train approached, slicing the air like a silver arrow.
***
On a day like any other.
Someone watched the gleaming tracks before him.
Ending it would be so simple…
***
Someone sat on the station bench.
The noise around him became a muffled roar, as if submerged.
One part of him screamed to stop, but another urged him to take that final step.
Then, at the last moment, a fleeting memory crossed his mind:
His mother's smile. Her gentle laugh. The warmth of an embrace.
What is real?
The train approached. The ground vibrated beneath his feet. The cold stung his skin.
Adrenaline coursed through his body. The line between pain and release grew thin.
And then… he jumped.
The impact was brutal.
The crash of metal tearing flesh distorted his perception.
There was only a flash, followed by silence.
He floated.
Time unraveled.
***
Someone awoke in a forgotten place.
In a dark cave, shrouded by a dense fog, his body was trapped in something viscous, like a cocoon of black silk.
Around him, others slept in identical wrappings, eyes open and empty smiles.
Above them, a grotesque creature hovered, feeding on the dreams of those who would never wake.
Terror.
A manifestation of his deepest fears.
Somehow, he freed himself. And, facing the creature, something within him changed.
…
And then he dreamed.
…
In his mother's arms, he felt the warmth of genuine love.
His ever‑watchful mind noticed the subtle weight of concern hidden in her gestures.
…
His childhood had been peaceful, immersed in books that carried him to other worlds.
Like a peregrine in fantasy.
There, stories offered an escape—and, at the same time, a promise.
…
He remembered his first job, the joy of helping with the bills, of proving to his mother that he could give back for her care.
…
But deep down, a new doubt arose:
"And my father? Who was he?"
…
The memories advanced like a storm's refraction in a kaleidoscope.
…
The first shock didn't come from his choice, but from an inherited burden.
His father, a man involved in crime, had been a shadow in their lives. And, for mistakes that weren't his own, he and his mother became targets of revenge.
…
"What a useless act… That man never cared about us."
…
But the past was sealed.
…
And now, in this state, the Peregrine had to move forward—whether to anywhere, or nowhere at all.