Lena's sneakers slapped against the wet pavement as she hurried down Maple Street toward school. Dawn had barely broken, and the sky was a bruised shade of gray. Steam rose from the sidewalks in curls, carrying the scent of rain-damp asphalt and fallen leaves. Every step felt surreal—as if the world she'd known yesterday had already slipped behind a veil she could never lift.
Her sketchbook tucked under one arm, Lena rounded the corner and froze. There, etched into the side of the old wrought-iron fence, was a single word:
"WELCOME."
The letters looked fresh—glossy with moisture—and they glowed faintly in the dawn light. Her breath caught. Yesterday that same fence had been unblemished black iron. Her heart hammered as she pressed a fingertip to the first letter. It hummed beneath her skin, just as her own hands had buzzed the night before when she'd seen those golden eyes in the rain.
A soft voice startled her.
"You made it."
She spun around. A boy stood three feet away, leaning against the red-brick wall of Ms. Ashford's bakery. He was tall and pale, wearing a dark coat that looked too heavy for spring. His hair was as black as midnight, and his eyes—Lena's chest tightened—were the same molten gold she'd glimpsed in her window.
"Who—" she began.
He lifted a hand in greeting, a crooked smile flickering over his lips. "I'm Aiden. I promised I'd show myself."
Lena's pulse raced. "How––how do you know my name?"
Aiden pushed off the wall and took a step closer, his gaze never wavering. "You wrote it in your dreams."
A gust of wind whirled between them, lifting strands of Lena's hair. For a moment, the fence's letters brightened, as if reacting to his presence. Lena swallowed hard.
"You're… real."
His smile softened. "As real as you're about to become."
She looked back at the fence. The glow had faded, but the word remained. "Why—why did you write that? Why me?"
Aiden's face grew serious. "Because you're the bridge. The veil is thinning, and only someone with your sight can keep it from tearing completely."
Lena's heart pounded. "I don't even know what that means." She hugged her sketchbook closer. "I'm just a girl who draws rain."
"Then let me show you," he said, his voice gentle. He raised a slender hand and traced a finger through the air. A ripple of light traced his movement, and the world shifted.
Suddenly the street was gone. In its place—a mist-choked forest, ancient stones half-buried in moss, and a sky lit by twin moons. Lena's breath caught. The air smelled of damp earth and something metallic—like blood on stone.
Aiden stood beside her, unchanged, as if he belonged in this world. "This is where I live… in between," he whispered. "Where the living and the dead meet."
Lena's legs trembled. "I—I can't stay here."
"Not yet," Aiden said. He held out his hand. "But soon, you'll walk this realm as I do."
Her mind spun. A thousand questions clamored for escape, but beneath the fear was a thrill she couldn't ignore. She glanced at her reflections in the mist—her hoodie, her sketchbook, her ordinary self. "Why me?" she repeated, more softly.
Aiden's golden gaze held hers. "Because only you see the world truly."
He stepped forward and brushed his palm against hers. A shock of energy leapt through Lena's fingers—warm, pulsing, alive. The forest dissolved in a breath, and she was standing back in front of the school fence, early morning light filtering through overcast skies.
Lena gasped and staggered back. The letters on the fence no longer glowed; now they were just scratched paint. Her sketchbook lay at her feet, its pages splayed open. On the top sheet was a rough charcoal drawing—an uncanny portrait of Aiden, eyes blazing gold, the misty forest behind him.
Her breath caught in her throat. She had never drawn that.
A soft chime from her phone broke the spell. A text from an unknown number read:
> "You've crossed the threshold. Now, learn to walk between worlds."
She looked up at the fence, at the empty street beyond. The world felt … new. Dangerous. Impossible.
But Lena tucked the sketchbook under her arm, squared her shoulders, and walked through the school gates.
Because she knew there was no turning back now.