The first time Angel dreamt of fire, she woke up gasping, tangled in her blankets, the scent of smoke lingering in her mind. She was seven years old, too young to grasp the weight of her dreams. In the visions, she wasn’t herself—not the awkward, shy kid from Altus, Oklahoma. She was someone else, holding a shimmering shield in one hand and standing shoulder-to-shoulder with her sister Jocelyn and three cousins—Ryan, Michaela, and Hannah. Together, they faced a monstrous horde of alien parasites.
The dreams weren’t just flashes of action. Angel could feel the heat of the explosions, hear Jocelyn’s voice calling out strategies, and taste the metallic tang of fear. The parasites weren’t entirely human—they moved with insect-like precision, their bodies distorting grotesquely as if something unnatural writhed beneath their skin. Each dream ended the same way: with darkness, defeat, and a sharp pang of loss.
When Angel finally confided in Jocelyn about the dreams, her younger sister admitted she’d been having them too. “It feels so real,” Jocelyn whispered one night as they lay awake in their shared room. “Like it actually happened.”
The girls thought they were alone in their strange experiences until a family cookout brought an unexpected revelation. Angel overheard Michaela, their eldest cousin, describing a dream eerily similar to hers. When pressed, Michaela confessed to having recurring visions of alien anatomy, desperate battles, and impossible odds. Ryan, her younger brother, chimed in, his voice tinged with excitement. “I dream about fighting them too—with this massive gun. It’s like I’ve done it before.”
Even Hannah, the youngest of the group, nodded. “I’m always fixing things in my dreams—like weapons or... I don’t know, ships? It doesn’t feel like a dream, though. It feels like a memory.”
Their parents dismissed the talk as overactive imaginations and too much science fiction. But for the five of them, it was undeniable. The dreams were more than just figments of their minds—they were pieces of a shared past none of them could fully remember.
As the years passed, the dreams became more vivid, creeping into their waking lives. Angel often found herself reflexively raising her hands, as if summoning her shield, whenever she felt threatened. Jocelyn’s connection to machines grew uncanny; she could take apart a broken appliance and fix it in minutes without understanding how she knew what to do. Ryan became obsessed with combat training, always looking for ways to test his growing strength. Michaela excelled in biology, drawing intricate diagrams of creatures she swore she’d never seen before. And Hannah, at just sixteen, had already started building devices that seemed far beyond her years.
It all came to a head one quiet spring evening. The cousins were gathered in Angel and Jocelyn’s backyard, the fire pit crackling as they roasted marshmallows. The air was thick with the scent of charred sugar and wood smoke when they heard it—a voice, faint but unmistakable.
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“They’re coming.”
Angel froze, her marshmallow slipping into the flames. She looked at Jocelyn, who was staring back at her, wide-eyed. “Did you hear that?” Angel whispered.
Michaela nodded slowly. “It wasn’t just me, then.”
The voice came again, louder this time. “Remember who you are. You don’t have much time.”
And then it happened. Like a dam breaking, the memories flooded in—vivid and unrelenting. Angel saw herself in a fighter jet, her shield protecting her cockpit as she dove into battle. Jocelyn was connected to the alien ship, her hands glowing as she repaired its systems mid-fight. Ryan’s towering figure wielded a massive weapon, mowing down waves of parasites. Michaela, surrounded by lab equipment, worked frantically to create a cure. And Hannah’s fingers danced over controls, directing their every move with calm precision.
Angel clutched her head as the visions subsided. “We died,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “We fought them, and we lost.”
“But if we’re here now…” Michaela’s voice trailed off, her expression filled with confusion and dread.
The answer came from the voice, now steady and clear. “I saved you. Recreated you. But this planet is no longer safe. They are coming again. You must be ready.”
“Who are you?” Jocelyn asked, her voice trembling but firm.
“I am the ship. Your ally. Your sanctuary. And soon, your only hope.”
Over the next few days, the voice returned, filling in the gaps of their past. The ship explained how it had connected to their minds during the final battle, saving their essence before their bodies perished. It recreated them on Earth, giving them a second chance. But the parasites had found them again, and the time for hiding was over.
The revelations ignited something in each of them. Michaela dove deeper into her studies, determined to develop a weapon that could eradicate the parasites. Ryan trained harder than ever, pushing the limits of his newfound strength. Hannah began designing tools and weapons, her sketches growing more complex by the hour. Jocelyn spent hours meditating, her thoughts reaching out to the ship that had become her silent partner.
Angel, however, felt the weight of their fate pressing down on her shoulders. Her shield, once an abstract power, now pulsed with energy she struggled to control. How could she protect them all when she barely understood what she was?
The answer came one evening, as she stood on the outskirts of Altus, staring at the horizon. The voice spoke again, quiet but urgent.
“They are here.”
Angel’s heart raced as she turned to see dark shapes moving in the distance. Her shield flared to life, a dome of shimmering light surrounding her. For a moment, she was no longer the unsure girl from Altus—she was the protector, the warrior. She called her cousins, her voice steady despite the fear clawing at her chest.
“They’re here,” she said. “It’s time.”
As the sun set and the first wave of parasites appeared, Angel stood tall with Jocelyn by her side and her cousins at her back. Together, they were more than family. They were a team, forged by a past they were just beginning to remember—and this time, they wouldn’t lose.