Rigel stared up at the ceiling with a plain look, the dream replaying in his head like an old recording, the faces he had seen burned into his retinas. The alarm clock blared again, its shrill sound cutting through the morning silence, and Rigel knew without even looking that it was almost eight. If he didn't get up now, he'd surely be late for school, and that was not an option he could afford.
With a long, resigned sigh, he finally hopped down from his bed and slid his feet into his fluffy blue slippers, their softness contrasting with the tension in his chest. He shuffled his way into the bathroom, not bothering to glance at the time as it ticked away mercilessly.
Rigel walked over to the sink and stared at his reflection in the mirror cabinet just above it. The face looking back at him seemed unfamiliar—tired eyes framed by dark circles, hair tousled from sleep. After a moment of just staring, he mustered the energy to brush his teeth vigorously, taking a long, refreshing bath afterward. The warm water enveloped him like a gentle embrace as he washed his hair until it felt clean and soft, each strand glistening under the bathroom light.
Once he was done with his morning routine, he exited the bathroom and changed into something that was fairly acceptable for school—an old but comfortable T-shirt paired with jeans that had seen better days but still fit him well.
With everything packed away in his trusty backpack—his notebooks, pens of various colors, and all the essentials—he left his room behind. As he walked past the kitchen, he grabbed a shiny red apple from the bowl on the counter before stepping out into the brisk morning air. The school bus came to a stop down the street at record time today. Rigel locked the door with a practiced motion, stuffing the keys into his backpack before sprinting toward the bus.
☬
School was practically uneventful except for one glaring issue: Rigel kept getting called out because he zoned out repeatedly in class. That normally didn't happen; everyone knew that both students and teachers know that. But today was different.
He has no one—not a family member to lean on or friends to share laughter with—he lives alone and has been fending for himself ever since he lost his grandmother last year. The only thing keeping him afloat is his scholarship and dreams of a brighter future. He can't let a stupid dream get to him.
Brrng! The bell rang loudly through the classroom.
Rigel blinked then blinked again, finally zoning back into reality as if awakening from a deep slumber. Biology class is over? Already? Mister Joshua left the class after reminding them to read chapter twenty of their textbook.
Rigel sat down for a while longer, allowing the classroom to empty out around him before he stood up slowly. He grabbed his backpack and left the class behind as if shedding an old skin.
Normally, he would take a taxi back home after school's end, but today Rigel decided to walk instead; fresh air might do him good and perhaps clear his cluttered mind.
Meet Ravenhurst: a coastal city nestled within the Pacific Northwest region of the United States.
Ravenhurst is situated about 30 miles north of Portland, Oregon, cradled between the Columbia River and the majestic Cascade Range. The city boasts a population of around 300,000 people and is known for its thriving arts scene, vibrant waterfront district, abundant outdoor recreation opportunities, and its growing tech industry that buzzes with innovation.
His Grandma had moved them both down here when he was just six years old—"To get away from the trauma," she had said firmly. "You need a fresh start. We both do." That was after the accident, the fire that claimed both of their parents' lives in one devastating swoop.
The city itself is beautiful; there was always something delightful to look at or something intriguing that would catch his interest whenever he chose to skip taking a cab and instead walk home. There's always been something special about Ravenhurst—the community center bustling with activity, Pineview Park where families gathered for picnics under sprawling trees, and The Daily Grind, Rigel's favorite coffee shop.
Rigel paused mid-step and looked up at two-story buildings standing tall in front of him: one side housed a store on the ground floor while residential apartments loomed above like watchful guardians. The building wasn't anything particularly odd; in fact, very few shops in Ravenhurst were designed differently—some people preferred to keep their business close to home.
What struck Rigel as odd was that despite having walked down this street countless times before, he had never noticed this building nestled snugly between a vintage bookstore filled with dusty tomes and a holistic center offering alternative therapies.
He blinked again and peered up at the signage—a small hand-painted sign above the door read "Moonwhisper's Curios" in elegant cursive script that danced across its surface like whispers on the wind. Below it lay a subtle crescent moon symbol that seemed to draw him closer. Before he could think too much about it or let doubt creep in, Rigel found himself crossing the street with determined steps as he walked into the store.
The first thing he noticed upon entry was how empty it felt—no one behind the counter waiting to greet him or offer assistance. The second thing that struck him was everything else: the store's interior resembled a labyrinth of narrow aisles filled with crowded shelves and display cases overflowing with wonders. The air hung thick with scents of sandalwood and sage—a blend that wrapped around him like an old friend.
Rigel walked cautiously toward the display case closest to him. It was lined meticulously with dreamcatchers of various sizes and designs; some looked delicate while others boasted intricate patterns woven carefully by hand. The second case held crystal clusters glimmering like tiny galaxies captured under glass; polished stones lay among them like treasures unearthed from another world. The third case showcased what appeared to be handcrafted artisanal bracelets and chains adorned with charms that sparkled invitingly under soft lighting. Rigel brushed his fingers against the cool glass case; they all looked beautiful shining in low light—a siren call pulling him closer.
"Can I help you?"
Startled by this sudden voice breaking through his reverie, Rigel jumped back instinctively while pulling his fingers away from the case as if burned by fire.
"Sorry! Didn't mean to startle you," came another gentle voice tinged with warmth.
Rigel turned slowly to look at the owner of this voice; when their eyes met, shock washed over him like icy water splashing against warm skin.
Curly auburn hair framed her face beautifully...
Warm hazel eyes sparkled bright...
It's her—it's the girl from my dream.