The Dream That Was Not a Dream
Mira dreamed of the door on the forty-third night.
She was standing in the darkness again, the cold pressing against her skin, the silence pressing against her ears. The door was before her — massive and black, its surface pulsing with silver light, its symbols burning like eyes.
She reached for it.
Her hand passed through.
There was no resistance. No warmth. No cold. Just emptiness.
The door was open.
Beyond the door was light.
Not silver. Not golden.
Red.
Deep and dark, pulsing like a wound, bleeding like a heart.
And in the center of the light, a figure.
Not her grandmother. Not Zander. Not the child.
A woman she had never seen before.
Young. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Pale skin.
She was crying.
“Help me,” she whispered. “Please. Help me.”
Mira woke.
Her heart was pounding.
Her hands were shaking.
The room was dark.
The ship was silent.
But the voice lingered.
Help me. Please. Help me.
She got out of bed.
She walked to the observation deck.
The stars were still. The ship was quiet. The void was empty.
But she could feel it.
Something out there.
Watching.
Waiting.
Hungry.
She found Zander in the cryogenic bay.
He was standing in front of a pod, his silver eyes fixed on the sleeper inside.
“The dreams are back,” he said.
“I know.”
“What did you see?”
She was silent for a long moment.
“A woman. Young. Dark hair. Dark eyes. She was crying. She asked for help.”
“The first dreamer?”
“No. Someone else. Someone new.”
Zander turned.
His silver eyes were bright.
“The others are dreaming of her too. The sleepers. The crew. Everyone who heard the song.”
“What does she want?”
He looked at the pod.
At the silver eyes of the sleeper inside.
“She wants to be found.”
Captain Theron called an emergency briefing.
The senior staff gathered in the conference room — Mira, Zander, Jax, Elara. Their faces were pale, their eyes tired, their hands steady.
“The signal is back,” Theron said.
The room was silent.
“Not the same signal. A different one. Fainter. Softer. But it’s there.”
“Where is it coming from?” Mira asked.
Theron looked at the star chart.
The blinking light was not at the edge of the galaxy.
It was closer.
Much closer.
“It’s coming from inside the fleet.”