The night air in Ashmere had a strange stillness, as if the town itself had paused to listen. The cobbled streets, usually alive with murmurs and footsteps, now lay empty under the pale glow of the street lanterns. The bookstore’s wooden sign creaked, swinging gently in the cool night breeze. Inside, Elias lay awake, staring at the ceiling, his fingers clutching the fabric of his blanket.

He had seen something.

Not a dream. Not a fleeting thought. A vision.

It had started two nights ago. He had closed his eyes, expecting the familiar silence of sleep, but instead, his mind had opened like a doorway. He was no longer in his room. He stood at the town square, where the old clock tower loomed like a giant counting down to something unseen. The air was thick with the scent of rain, though the sky was clear. A man—his face obscured by the shadows—stood beneath the tower, staring up at it. And then, the bell rang, louder than it ever had before.

A sudden flash.

Fire.

It erupted from nowhere, swallowing the marketplace in an inferno. People ran, screaming, their voices drowned by the roar of the flames. Elias felt his own breath catch, the heat licking at his skin—

And then he woke up.

His chest heaved, his sheets drenched in sweat. He sat up abruptly, staring at the darkness of his room, his heart hammering against his ribs.

It was just a dream. Just a dream.

But deep inside, he knew it wasn’t. He had seen things before, little things. A cat knocking over a pail. A man dropping his watch. But never something like this. Never something so violent.

The next morning, he told himself it was nothing. He walked through town, watching the people go about their day. The marketplace was as it had always been—vendors arranging their stalls, children running between them, old men sitting under the shade of the bakery, muttering about the weather. There was no sign of fire. No disaster waiting to unfold. He almost convinced himself it was all in his head.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Until that night.

The dream returned, clearer, stronger. The fire was more intense. This time, he saw a figure caught in the blaze, a woman reaching out for help. The agony in her voice felt real. Too real. He jerked awake, panting, his pulse a frenzied drumbeat against his temples. He barely had time to process it before something outside his window made him freeze.

A whisper.

Not the wind. Not the rustling leaves.

Something else.

He turned his head slowly, his breath shallow. The street outside was deserted, bathed in the dim glow of the lanterns. And yet… he could feel something. A presence. A weight in the air, pressing against his skin.

Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw it.

A shadow.

Standing beneath the bookstore sign. Motionless.

His throat tightened. His fingers curled into the sheets. He wanted to look away, to convince himself it was a trick of the light. But the moment his gaze met the shadow’s form, the lantern above flickered—and in that brief second, Elias swore he saw eyes staring back at him.

Then, it was gone.

The silence that followed was deafening. He lay still, listening to his own heartbeat, waiting for something to move, for something to happen. But nothing did.

Minutes passed.

Hours.

Morning came.

And that was when the fire started.

The market square was in chaos. Smoke curled into the sky, thick and suffocating. Elias stood at the edge of the street, his eyes wide, his breath shallow. The stalls he had walked past just yesterday were now smoldering ruins. The bakery, the one with the old men sitting outside, was engulfed in flames.

It had happened.

Exactly as he had seen it.

Elias felt the ground sway beneath him. His stomach twisted. His vision blurred. He wanted to run, to scream, to tell someone. But who would believe him? Who could understand what he had seen, what he had known before it ever came to be?

The weight of realization pressed down on him like a stone.

This wasn’t just a dream.

This was something else.

Something far worse.