THE LAST DREAMER

The darkness of the night felt heavier than it ever had before. A chilling cold seemed to seep through the cracks in the walls of the old house, even though the fire was roaring in the hearth. The embers barely held any warmth as they flickered in the dimly lit room, casting eerie shadows that danced across the walls. Ethan lay awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind racing with thoughts he couldn't escape.

Since the battle with the creature, everything had changed. They had stopped the rift. They had stopped the curse. But now, Ethan found himself haunted—not by the past, but by something worse. The realization was slow at first, a creeping sensation that came over him during the day, like a shadow in the corner of his mind. But now, at night, it was impossible to ignore. 

Nightmares.

It wasn't just any nightmare, though. It was the same one, night after night, repeating in vivid, horrifying detail.

It started the same every time. Ethan would be standing in the middle of a forest—a dense, almost suffocating tangle of trees, their branches heavy with darkness. The air was thick with an oppressive silence that pressed in on him from every direction, but it was the feeling of being watched that unnerved him the most. Every step he took felt like it was being tracked by unseen eyes.

And then, from the darkness, there would be a figure.

A shadow, tall and menacing, emerging from the trees. It never spoke, but Ethan could feel its presence—something was coming for him. He tried to move, to run, but his legs would be frozen in place, his body unresponsive to his mind's frantic commands.

The figure would approach, slow and deliberate, its eyes glowing red, burning with an otherworldly fire. And in those eyes, Ethan saw something that made his blood run cold: the image of Maya, standing at the figure's side, her face expressionless, her eyes distant, as if she were no longer her.

It was always the same—Maya's face twisted, distorted, until she was just a shadow of the person he knew. The figure's presence would loom closer and closer, until it would reach out, its hand coming down like an iron vice around his throat.

Then, just as Ethan would feel the life draining from his body, he would wake up.

Sweat clung to his skin, his heart pounding as if he'd run a marathon. He gasped for breath, his eyes darting around the room, as though expecting to see that same shadow looming over him. But the room was quiet—too quiet. The shadows seemed deeper, more oppressive, as though the nightmares were somehow spilling into his waking life.

Ethan wiped his face, frustrated. It's just a nightmare, just a stupid dream, he tried to reassure himself. But it wasn't that simple. The dreams felt real, like they were a warning, something he couldn't shake. The connection between him and Maya—the way she had changed, the way the monster had influenced them all—it all felt tied to this sense of dread that seemed to cling to him now, every waking moment. 

Sitting up in bed, Ethan glanced over at Maya's room. He hadn't spoken to her much since Henry's confession. There was a distance between them now, a barrier he didn't know how to cross. Henry's past—his involvement in the curse—had cast a shadow over their relationship, and Maya, in her quiet way, had retreated into herself. She wasn't the same. Neither of them were. They couldn't be. The weight of everything they had faced had changed them.

But what really troubled Ethan wasn't the monster anymore. It wasn't the curse or the dark forces they had battled. It was the feeling that something was wrong with Maya. That coldness in her eyes that had emerged since the battle, that distant look she gave him every time their eyes met. He hadn't dared confront her about it. Not yet. But deep down, he knew. Something was off, and it was eating away at him, just like the nightmares.

He shook his head, trying to shake off the lingering effects of the dream. But as he glanced at the moon through the cracked window, an unsettling thought crept into his mind: What if the nightmares weren't just dreams?

What if they were a warning? 

Suddenly, the door creaked open. 

Ethan tensed, his body rigid with alertness, but it was just Maya. She stood in the doorway, her silhouette faintly illuminated by the soft light from the hallway.

"You're awake?" Maya's voice was soft, barely more than a whisper, but Ethan could hear the concern in it.

Ethan swallowed, his throat dry. His eyes flickered to her face, but it was difficult to read her expression in the dim light. She looked exhausted, her skin pale under the soft glow, her hair tousled from sleep.

"Yeah," Ethan replied, trying to sound normal, trying to push the unease in his chest away. "Just couldn't sleep."

Maya stepped into the room, her bare feet making soft noises on the floor. She paused at the foot of his bed, her gaze scanning his face as though she were searching for something—an answer, maybe. Ethan wasn't sure. 

"I had a nightmare," she said quietly, her voice barely audible in the stillness of the room.

Ethan's heart skipped a beat. "Me too." His voice was rough, like he hadn't spoken in days, though it had only been a few hours since they last talked.

Maya gave a small, tired smile. "It's not just dreams, is it?" Her voice held a quiet resonance, like she, too, felt the connection between the nightmares and their reality. 

Ethan sat up fully now, feeling an odd sense of relief that Maya had admitted the same thing. "No. I don't think it is."

Maya stared down at the floor for a long moment, her fingers nervously twisting a loose thread in her shirt. "I keep seeing… things. People. Faces. But they're not real, Ethan. They can't be."

Ethan felt a knot in his stomach. His first instinct was to reassure her, to tell her that it was just their minds playing tricks, that after everything they had been through, it was natural to be haunted by what had happened. But the way she looked at him—like she was waiting for some kind of confirmation, some kind of sign—made him pause.

He reached out and took her hand, his grip firm but gentle. "Whatever it is, we'll figure it out. Together."

Maya's eyes met his, and for a moment, the weight of the nightmare they had both experienced hung between them, unspoken but undeniable. The unease, the feeling that something was still very wrong with the world they had tried to escape, loomed like a dark cloud.

As Maya sank into the chair beside his bed, Ethan couldn't shake the feeling that the worst was yet to come. Whatever was happening to them, whatever force was still lurking in the shadows, hadn't finished with them. And the nightmares—they weren't just dreams. They were messages, warnings from a place deeper and darker than they could ever understand.

The connection between them—strained by the curse and tested by everything they had gone through—had become even more complicated. Ethan felt a tightness in his chest, a heavy weight of responsibility he hadn't felt before. The nightmares, the sense of doom that surrounded him, weren't just affecting him. They were affecting Maya too.

"We'll find out what's causing this," he whispered, trying to convince both her and himself. "We'll fix it."

But deep down, Ethan knew something that he couldn't bring himself to say: Maybe there was no fixing it. Not now. Not after everything they had faced.

The darkness was still there, lurking beneath the surface, waiting for its chance to rise again.

And this time, Ethan wasn't sure if they'd survive.