Fractured Dreams

Zayne dreamed in shattered glass.

The reflections surrounded him, suspended in darkness, fragments of a world that didn’t quite belong to him. He stood at the center, the crisp white of his coat stark against the void. The shards shifted, some sharp as knives, others smooth as the surface of water. They showed pieces of himself, faces that were his, but not… lives he had never lived, yet felt deep in his bones. A temple wreathed in mist. A blade catching the first light of dawn. A mountain untouched by time. Dawnbreaker was the first to step forward, his hazel eyes narrowed, searching. “Do you dream of me too?” Zayne didn’t answer. The first time he had spoken to these echoes, he had woken up gasping, his mind caught between realities. But Dawnbreaker wasn’t waiting for an answer. His gaze flicked across the fragments, jaw tight. “It doesn’t make sense,” he muttered, more to himself than to Zayne. “Your world… it shouldn’t feel this close. But every time I sleep, I see pieces of it. Of you.” Zayne looked down at his own reflection. It didn’t quite move with him. “Maybe you’re the one dreaming of me,” he said. Dawnbreaker let out a dry breath, something that wasn’t quite a laugh. “If this were my dream, I wouldn’t be in a goddamn lab coat.” The glass trembled. The dream was ending. Zayne stepped forward, crushing the reflection beneath his heel. The shards scattered, swallowed by the void. Dawnbreaker didn’t follow. He never did. When Zayne woke, he wasn’t gasping. He wasn’t shaken. He just laid there, staring at the ceiling. He no longer asked if the dreams meant something. They did. He just didn’t know if he cared anymore. ______ Credits for image: 猪皮皮皮皮猪_ on Weibo

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