Silas lay sprawled across his bed, one arm over his eyes and the other dangling uselessly off the mattress. His room hummed with the faint rattle of a broken ceiling fan that never quite managed to spin as fast as it should. Sweat beaded along his chest despite the open window. The moonlight outside should’ve cooled him, but tonight his body had decided to play furnace.

One would conclude that he was thinking about what had happened in the afternoon at the infirmary with Nurse Anna, but no. That wasn’t the case. Normally and commonly, that was what anyone who had just experienced a blowjob and a titjob from a sexy nurse like that would think about. They might not even sleep, and just thinking about it would make them hard again.

But...

The muzzle of sleep clamped down on him suddenly, pushing right into the realm of dreams. Dreams he’d gotten out of just a few seconds ago.

It began with his heartbeat echoing louder than it ever had before. Each thump of his heart shook the air around him. He wasn’t lying in bed anymore: he was instead suspended in a deep violet mist that smelled faintly of rosewood and something sweeter, almost intoxicating. The world was warm, as if he’d stepped into a bath drawn by someone who didn’t understand the meaning of lukewarm.

Shapes stirred around, feather-light particles drifted down like glowing dust motes, soft pink and gold. They clung to his skin, fizzing, tingling, and dissolving into tiny shivers that ran up his arms and spine. His pulse leapt, confused and eager in ways he didn’t understand.

A whisper brushed the back of his neck as the scene changed. He wasn’t Silas anymore. He felt himself pulled into a different body, or maybe into several bodies at once.

The first vision hit like a spark. He found himself standing in an ancient courtyard paved with sun-warmed marble. Behind stretched a ruin of half-broken columns wrapped in vines. His shadow was leaner, stronger, and crowned with a wreath of shimmering laurel leaves that pulsed like fire.

A bow hung from his hand. It was familiar, as if he’d been using it for ages. The bow was golden and elegant, but it felt dangerous.

Since he was experiencing everything in the first-person view, he felt every motion and action. He felt his muscles pull taut, felt the string of the bow kiss his fingertips, and the arrow surging forward as if it had a will of its own. When it struck its unseen mark, the world rippled like a pond slapped by a stone.

Love, lust, yearning... A thousand versions of it crashed against his chest, overwhelmingly powerful.

The vision suddenly snapped, only for another to take its place. This time, he was running barefoot across clouds that weren’t really clouds, but soft, weightless fields of light. Wings kept brushing the sides of his arms, stirring the air around him. Laughter circled him... It was bright and mischievous, the sound of someone who always knew more than everyone else and found it endlessly entertaining.

A hand suddenly grabbed his wrist. It was small, warm, and gentle. But when he turned to look at the person, he figured that the face of the person was blurred with nothing but glowing pink eyes, watching him as if they knew him better than he knew himself.

"You’re late," the figure murmured. He didn’t hear the words, but he felt them vibrate inside him.

Late for what? Late for whom?

The figure leaned close, and Silas felt something pressed into his palms. It was cool to the touch and hummed with barely hidden power. The figure of the thing was also very familiar. It turned out to be the bow again. His fingers curled around it instinctively and possessively, as though he’d owned it long before he had even been born.

The figure whispered one more time with a voice so soft that he almost missed it.

"Wake up soon. You’re nearly ready."

Light exploded around him like sunrise. It kissed every inch of him at once in a warm and comforting, yet full of pressure that made his breath stutter. His skin glowed faintly through the haze, traced in intricate symbols he didn’t recognize, spirals, hearts, arrows, and runic curls, shifting across him like reflections on water.

The mist thickened and wrapped around him like silk, pulling him backward until he dropped straight back toward consciousness.

Silas jerked awake in his room, heart hammering, body flushed from the inside out. Moonlight shimmered across the sweat on his skin. His breath came in uneven pulses, and his palms tingled.

For a stupid, terrifying moment, he half-expected to find a golden bow lying next to him on the sheets. He didn’t, but the warmth in his chest didn’t fade. The symbols, whatever they’d been, burned faintly in his memory like afterimages. Something deep inside him whispered a promise he wasn’t ready to understand.

Dreams don’t come with instruction manuals, but this one had the energy of a locked door finally creaking open, showing the faintest sliver of light on the other side. Even as he struggled to breathe normally again, the warmth wouldn’t leave. It was as if Cupid himself had knocked on the walls of his mind and said, "Soon."

***

Silas’s eyes snapped open like someone had poured cold water directly onto his soul. His whole body lurched, half-tangled in his sheets, and half-dangling off the bed like a freshly dropped corpse. His hair stuck out in every direction, and for a glorious three seconds, he had no idea who he was, where he was, or why his ceiling fan sounded like a dying bird.

His chest felt as if it were swallowing fire. His heart thumped so loudly, he honestly thought his ribs were about to file a complaint.

He sat up slowly, pushing a hand through his hair.

"Ugh... what was that?" he muttered, voice hoarse as if he’d been shouting.

He swung his legs off the bed and paused. His boxers were, well... Let’s just say the night had not been kind to fabric integrity. The poor elastic did NOT sign up for mystical puberty.

Silas slapped both hands over his face.

"No. Nope. Absolutely not. I refuse to start the day like this."

He got up anyway, wobbling slightly, like a drunken flamingo, making his way toward his tiny bathroom. He splashed cold water on his face, staring at his reflection. It was the same him, but when he leaned closer, his pupils flickered, a tiny pulse of pink. He staggered back in shock, his heart thumping loudly.

After a few seconds of breathing to calm himself down, he grabbed a towel, half wrapped it around himself, and flopped onto his bed again. Glowing eyes were a common thing in the world with people awakening, but him? Something was definitely happening. The dreams and now his eyes are glowing... They were too obvious.

"Why me?"

The fan clicked twice, spun lazily, and answered him with an unhelpful rrrh-RRRHH-rhrrh.