March 7th, 1948
Meika awoke with a gasp, her breath catching in her throat as the last remnants of the dream clung stubbornly to her mind. It had felt so vivid that she could still remember every face and every word, as though she had witnessed a memory instead of a dream.
As her breathing gradually slowed, she looked around her bedroom and caught sight of a faint crimson glow stretching across the walls. For a terrifying moment, she thought the vision had followed her into the waking world. She rubbed her eyes, and when she looked again, the light had vanished, leaving only the darkness of the early morning and the pale outline of her window.
She remained seated on the edge of her bed, trying to convince herself that the unease would pass, but an unfamiliar warmth stirred deep within her chest. The sensation was faint, little more than a gentle pulse, yet it carried with it a feeling she recognized immediately. It was the same inexplicable spark she had experienced weeks earlier while watching the military parade, just before the Battle of St. James.
At the time, she had dismissed it as a trick of her imagination. The parade had marked her Uncle Cody's departure for the front, and she had assumed that the mixture of fear, excitement, and uncertainty had simply overwhelmed her senses. The strange warmth had faded as quickly as it had appeared, and nothing unusual had followed. Eventually, she convinced herself that there had never been anything extraordinary about it.
Now, however, the sensation carried a weight she could no longer explain away. It lingered beneath her skin with the same quiet certainty that had unsettled her during the parade, except this time it was accompanied by a dream that refused to dissolve into the haze of waking. The vision remained as clear as if it had been etched into her memory, and with every passing moment, the warmth in her chest seemed less like an echo of imagination and more like the continuation of something that had never truly ended.
Meika wrapped her arms around herself as a chill crept over her. She had spent years fearing magic, avoiding even the thought of it whenever she could, yet the strange sensation had returned without invitation. It had come once before on the eve of a battle that changed the course of the Civil War, and now it had awakened again after showing her a future she desperately wanted to believe was impossible.
She could not understand why it had chosen those moments, nor why it had chosen her. All she knew was that the feeling had returned, and with it came the dreadful certainty that history was once again approaching a crossroads.
__________
A sound drifted up from the living room, voices layered in quiet conversation that carried easily through the stillness of the house.
"It's concerning, Jazmin... The Guard still hasn't found him, and I fear the press is onto something already."
Meika paused at the top of the stairs, one hand resting lightly on the railing as something in the cadence of a familiar voice reached her before recognition fully formed.
"Well... they cannot explain why Karlos was no longer beside you during the concert. It would be even harder to explain why you stayed behind after everyone left."
For a moment, she simply listened.
"We both agreed we'd leave the venue together as that was the safest option. The spies at St. Roan confirmed a plot to abduct a high official... I'm just not sure who they planned to abduct."
She continued down the stairs, the faint warmth beneath her chest refusing to fade. It remained subtle, almost imperceptible, yet seemed to move with her, responding to something unseen waiting in the room below.
When she reached the bottom, she found Ken Drick standing near the center of the living room, his posture as composed as she remembered, though time had added a quiet weight to his presence. Beside him stood Olivia, calm but attentive, her eyes carrying the same steady awareness that seemed to notice everything without ever needing to announce it.
Across from them stood Jazmin, whose attention shifted the instant she noticed Meika. Her eyes swept over her niece with practiced familiarity, taking in the tiredness beneath her eyes, the stiffness in her posture, and the unconscious way one hand lingered near her chest before quietly assuring herself that, at the very least, Meika was physically unharmed.
The room fell silent for a heartbeat before Ken Drick turned fully toward her. It took him a moment longer than it should have, as though he too was measuring how much she had changed since they had last stood in the same room together. Recognition settled across his features, followed by something gentler.
"It has been a long time, kiddo."
Olivia's expression softened with quiet warmth, while Jazmin, without a word, closed the small distance between herself and Meika until she stood naturally at her side, the movement so familiar it barely seemed conscious.
Meika lingered at the foot of the stairs, uncertain whether to step farther into the room or remain where she was, caught between the familiarity of their faces and the lingering unease that had followed her from sleep.
"I've heard what you've been talking about," she said softly as she finally approached. "I woke up and heard voices... I thought I was still dreaming."
Before anyone else answered, Jazmin's gaze settled on her hands.
"You're trembling."
Only then did Meika notice them herself. She lowered her eyes, watching the slight tremor in her fingers before instinctively trying to still them.
"I didn't mean to listen," she added quickly, almost apologetically.
Jazmin rested a steady hand against her forearm.
"You don't have to apologize," she said in a calm, reassuring voice. "Take your time."
Only after Jazmin spoke did Ken Drick quietly add, "You look like you didn't just wake from a normal dream."
Something in his voice loosened the knot that had formed inside her. It reminded her of the others in her family, people whose authority never depended on raising their voices, each carrying their own quiet gravity.
She hesitated as the memory returned, vivid enough that it felt less like recollection than continuation.
"I saw something."
Her eyes blurred slightly as the images resurfaced.
"It wasn't like a normal dream. It didn't fade when I woke up. It stayed... like I was watching something that already exists somewhere."
Jazmin remained beside her, keeping her hand lightly against Meika's forearm without interrupting. The gesture wasn't meant to restrain her, only to remind her that she wasn't facing the memory alone.
Olivia's posture shifted almost imperceptibly, while Ken Drick remained silent, allowing Meika to continue in her own time.
"There were people I didn't recognize," she said, swallowing carefully. "A place I've never been. And something red... something that wasn't light or fire, but felt like it was part of everything. Like the air itself was wrong."
Her voice faltered before she drew a slow breath.
"It felt like everything was already moving. Like I'd arrived in the middle of something that didn't begin when I woke up."
Silence settled over the room.
Ken Drick's gaze sharpened almost imperceptibly, his concern giving way to careful consideration, while Olivia's attention became fully focused. Jazmin remained outwardly composed, though her eyes never left Meika.
"I don't know what it means," Meika admitted quietly. "But I've felt something like this before."
The room seemed to tighten around her next words.
"During the military parade. Before the Battle of St. James. I thought it was just... nerves."
Ken Drick regarded her thoughtfully before speaking.
"A dream that doesn't fade after waking," he repeated, more to himself than anyone else. "Start from the beginning. Don't interpret it. Just tell me exactly what you saw."
Before Meika could answer, Jazmin spoke with the same measured calm she'd maintained throughout the conversation.
"How many times has this happened?"
Meika blinked.
"Happened?"
"The sensation," Jazmin clarified gently. "The warmth. The feeling you're avoiding naming."
Meika hesitated as her fingers slowly curled into her palms. Without drawing attention to it, Jazmin gently unfolded one of her hands with her thumb, the familiar gesture carrying the quiet confidence of someone who had done this countless times before.
"You don't have to rush," she said. "Just tell us what you remember."
"It happened once before," Meika admitted. "During the military parade. Before the Battle of St. James. I thought it was just... stress."
"Not stress," Jazmin replied softly.
"Resonance."
The word lingered in the room.
Ken Drick's expression sharpened, and after a thoughtful silence, he spoke with unusual care.
"That pattern... reminds me of Kyra."
Olivia's gaze lowered slightly, while Jazmin's composure finally faltered, if only for a moment. Her hand tightened almost imperceptibly around Meika's forearm before relaxing again, though she never looked away from her niece.
"Aunt Kyra?" Meika asked.
Ken Drick hesitated for a moment, considering what he should say.
"She was part of the war effort," he answered carefully. "Before any of this was properly understood."
He drew a slow breath.
"And we relied on her."
The simplicity of the words only deepened their weight.
Jazmin remained silent, though Meika could feel the quiet reassurance of her hand still resting against her arm.
Then a gentle knock echoed from the front door.
The interruption broke the silence without shattering it.
Jazmin glanced toward the entrance before excusing herself with a slight nod. Opening the door, she found only the early morning air and a folded newspaper resting neatly at the threshold. She bent to retrieve it, unfolding the pages as she walked back into the room, though her pace slowed almost immediately.
Her eyes remained fixed on the front page.
"What is it?" Ken Drick asked.
She read the headline once more before answering.
"The press has it."
A quiet unease entered her voice.
"The incident at the concert."
Her eyes lifted from the page.
"And it is being published as confirmed."
The words settled heavily over the room.
Ken Drick's attention shifted briefly toward the newspaper before returning to Meika, as though aligning the headline with everything she had just described.
"Meika," he said quietly, "tell me exactly what you saw in that vision."
The warmth beneath her chest tightened again, almost in response to the question.
She exhaled slowly.
"I saw the outskirts... Presidential Guardsmen facing off against Confederates."
She closed her eyes briefly as the fragments sharpened.
"There were people running. Not in formation... not like an organized retreat. It felt wrong, like something had already gone past the point where anyone could stop it."
Her fingers tightened instinctively before Jazmin gave her hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze.
"And there was red again," Meika whispered. "Not blood. Not fire. Just... that same presence. Like everything was moving toward it."
Ken Drick listened in complete silence, his expression no longer reflecting surprise but recognition, while Olivia stood motionless, her attention fixed entirely on Meika.
Jazmin lowered the newspaper completely.
For all the implications the headline carried, her thoughts settled first on the young woman beside her.
Whatever had awakened in Meika had begun long before this morning.
And whatever came next, she would not face it alone.
The room felt less like a living space and more like a point where separate threads had begun to converge toward the same destination.
"Then we must waste no time," Ken Drick said, his expression hardening as the weight of the situation settled over him.
He turned to Jazmin.
"Keep me informed. If anything changes, anything at all, you'll be the first to know."
Jazmin gave a single nod. "You will."
Ken Drick's attention shifted back to Meika.
"Stay safe, kiddo," he said, offering a small, reassuring smile before gently ruffling her hair.
Olivia stepped beside him and embraced Meika briefly.
"You're always welcome at our home," she said warmly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Any time."
As she pulled away, Olivia glanced at Jazmin.
"Take care of her."
"I always do," Jazmin replied without hesitation.
Olivia smiled faintly before joining Ken Drick in the foyer. Together, they stepped outside, the front door clicking shut behind them.
Silence settled over the house once more.
Jazmin remained where she was for a moment, watching the closed door before turning back to Meika. The composed expression she'd worn throughout the conversation softened ever so slightly.
"Come on," she said quietly. "Let's get you something to eat."
There was concern in her voice now, not as an analyst piecing together events, nor as someone connected to the government, but simply as the woman who had been looking after Meika all this time.
To be Continued