The 13th Hour

dream.

Every night, as Zion lay down in his small, dimly lit room, he would close his eyes tightly, waiting, almost yearning, for the dream to take him. It had begun so innocently—a fleeting whisper at the edge of sleep, gentle as a breeze. But with each passing night, it became more vivid, more real, until he could feel it in his bones, humming like an ancient promise: he could fly.

In his dreams, he would awaken in a place bathed in silver mist, atop a quiet hill carpeted with dewy grass. The world around him stretched in soft grays and muted greens, washed in the tranquil light of dawn. The air was so crisp, so pure, that breathing felt like drinking in stardust, filling his lungs with something magical, something vast. And in this place, his feet would lift off the ground with effortless grace, like the Earth itself was letting him go. Gravity was no more than a distant memory.

Every detail was as sharp as if he were awake: the bite of cool air on his cheeks, the delicate feel of dew against his bare feet, the smell of damp earth and wildflowers. Rising higher and higher, Sam would look down at the landscape stretching below him like a painted canvas. Tiny houses, rivers winding like silver threads, clusters of dark green forests—all drifting farther from his reach as he soared above, a legend in his own secret sky.

When Zion flew, he felt unstoppable. He would dive through clouds, cool and wet against his skin, dipping and swirling as freely as a bird. The world beneath him blurred into colors and shapes, fields and lakes shrinking as he rose. Sometimes, he would stretch out his hand, reaching toward the stars that blinked down at him, feeling as though he were only inches away from brushing against them. They seemed to shimmer in greeting, a silent choir of light just for him.

In the waking world, Zion was quiet and reserved, a boy who lived more in his head than in reality. At school, he was the kind of student teachers called a "daydreamer," his gaze often drifting out the window as his mind wandered somewhere far beyond the classroom walls. He didn't tell anyone about his dreams, about the way he soared through an endless sky each night. It was his secret, his escape from the dullness of daily life, a quiet haven in a world where he often felt unseen. At night, he was a hero, fearless and free, dancing with stars and laughing with the wind.

But last night, something changed.

In the middle of his dream flight, a chill had run through him—a sharp, unnatural cold that made his entire body shiver, piercing the warmth that usually enveloped him like a blanket. Startled, he'd slowed, his eyes scanning the misty expanse below, searching for anything unusual. That's when he'd first noticed it: a shadow, dark and swift, moving beneath him, following his every turn, every dive, as if it were a part of him he couldn't shake.

"Hello?" he'd called out, his voice echoing across the sky, but only silence answered. The shadow only grew darker, stretching and shifting with an eerie, restless energy, creeping closer, like an approaching storm.

He woke up with his heart hammering, a strange dread settling over him like a heavy fog. Shivering in his bed, he brushed it off, telling himself it was only a nightmare, a trick of his mind. But as he got up, the unease lingered, clinging to him like a dark stain. It felt as if that shadow had crossed some invisible boundary, slipping from his dreams into the waking world.

The following night, Zion crawled into bed with a mix of longing and unease. He wanted to feel the familiar thrill of flight, but the memory of that shadow haunted him, a silent whisper at the back of his mind. Trying to calm himself, he repeated over and over that it was only a dream—a strange, harmless figment of his imagination. But as he closed his eyes, his heart pounded, filled with a restless anticipation.

When sleep finally claimed him, he found himself back on the familiar hill. The mist curled around him, cool and comforting, and the stars winked down, filling him with a fragile sense of peace. As he took a deep breath, he felt the familiar lift beneath his feet, his body growing light as he rose into the night sky. For a brief, blissful moment, all his worries melted away, replaced by the exhilarating freedom of flight.