𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒

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・┆𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 ┆・

・┆𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 ┆・

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➤ 𝐊𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐉𝐎𝐋𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐊𝐄, 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄 𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐔𝐁𝐁𝐄𝐃 her tired eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. The plane shuddered slightly beneath her, its engines humming in the background, and the turbulence nudged her back to full consciousness.

She blinked a few times, adjusting to the dim lighting of the cabin, her heart still racing from whatever it was she had been dreaming about.

She slowly sat upright in her seat, feeling the dull throb of a headache form at her temples, her mind spinning as she tried to make sense of the dream.

What was that? The details were already slipping away from her, fading into the fog of her waking mind, but the sense of it—the emotions—lingered.

It wasn't just any dream. Kara had been having these strange, unsettling dreams for a while now.

They felt too vivid, too real, like pieces of a memory she should know, but every time she woke up, the meaning dissolved before she could grasp it.

Peering around the cabin, she observed the other passengers. No one seemed to notice her sudden distress. Most people were asleep, their heads tilted against the backs of their seats, some softly snoring.

Others were preoccupied, eyes glued to their screens, watching movies or tapping idly at their phones.

A few were gazing out the windows at the endless night sky.

It was a typical flight, quiet, routine, but Kara felt anything but.

Her pulse was still racing, her chest tight with the remnants of unease, so she closed her eyes for a moment and took several deep, steady breaths. Inhale, exhale.

She repeated it, trying to center herself, to push the dream and the frantic feeling it had left behind out of her mind. Eventually, her heartbeat began to slow, the tension in her shoulders easing.

Calm down. It's just a dream.

But no matter how much she tried to shove it aside, she couldn't shake the image of the boy—the one who had looked at her in that familiar, almost knowing way. His face, the intensity in his eyes, stuck with her, haunting her even now. She couldn't remember who he was or why he seemed so important.

Why does she keep seeing him? It wasn't the first time he had appeared in her dreams, and each time, it felt more real than the last. But she didn't know him.

At least, she didn't think she did.

The confusion gnawed at her, but she forced herself to push it down, to let it go. It was probably just her imagination, or so she told herself.

𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘,      ❪ HOMELANDER ❫ Where stories live. Discover now