Celestial Guardians: Uniting Dimensions (Celestial Guardians Series, #1)

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Kevin's POV

The world felt... wrong.

I couldn't explain it, but every morning, I woke up with the same gnawing emptiness in my chest, like something important had been stripped away. I'd learned to ignore it—most days, anyway. But sometimes, in the quiet hours of the night, the emptiness felt like a scream I couldn't silence.

I wasn't anyone special. Just Kevin Quiamco, who worked odd jobs and kept his head down. No big dreams, no grand ambitions. I was trying to make it through life without too many scratches.

But lately, strange things have been happening.

I'd been dreaming—vivid, disjointed dreams that left me gasping for air when I woke. Faces I didn't recognize. Places that didn't feel real. And always, always the same voice, whispering, Remember.

The problem was I didn't know what I was supposed to remember.

This morning, the emptiness was sharper, like a shard of glass lodged in my ribs. I rolled out of bed, rubbing my temples. The dream from last night was still fresh in my mind—a girl's face, framed by a blinding light, and the sound of her screaming my name.

Who was she?

I shook it off as I got dressed. There was no use obsessing over things that didn't make sense. My shift at the diner started in half an hour, and I needed to focus.

The walk to work was uneventful until I passed the old bridge. That's when I saw him—the kid with the backpack who couldn't have been older than ten. He was leaning over the railing, staring at the rushing water below.

Something about the way he stood made my stomach twist.

"Hey, kid!" I called out, quickening my pace.

He didn't answer.

When I reached him, tears streamed down his face. His tiny hands gripped the railing like it was the only thing keeping him from falling.

"Hey," I said again, softer this time. "What's going on?"

He sniffled but didn't look at me. "I messed up."

"Everyone messes up," I said, leaning against the railing beside him. "Doesn't mean it's the end of the world."

He shook his head violently. "You don't understand. My mom's going to hate me forever."

My chest tightened. I didn't know what he'd done, but the despair in his voice hit me like a punch to the gut.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Luis," he mumbled.

"Okay, Luis," I said. "Listen to me. Whatever happened, it's not worth giving up. You can fix it. You have to take the first step."

He finally looked at me, his broad, tear-filled eyes searching mine. "You think so?"

"I know so," I said firmly.

He stared at me for a moment like he was trying to decide whether to believe me. Then, slowly, he nodded.

I helped him climb down from the railing and sat on the curb, listening as he poured out his story. It wasn't anything earth-shattering—he'd accidentally broken his mom's favorite vase while playing soccer in the house. But to him, it felt like the end of the world.

By the time I walked him home, the weight in my chest had lifted just a little.

And that's when it happened.