Jerusalem — 3:11 A.M.
The wind rose out of nowhere.
Nathaniel awoke with a start, his breath catching in his throat.
There was no sound. Not really.
But something was off.
The shadows in the corners of his room stretched longer than they should, trembling slightly, like they were being pulled elsewhere. The shutters creaked, although the air felt perfectly still.
He blinked.
Once.
Twice.
And the wall flickered.
Just for a moment — a stutter in the stone. It vanished so quickly he could've blamed sleep, or madness. But then it happened again. A ripple. The room bent, twisted, shimmered — and returned.
Nate sat upright in bed, eyes wide.
His breath misted in the air.
It wasn't cold.
Then…
A scream.
Faint. Far away.
Then silence.
And then — city noise.
Honking. Sirens.
What?
He jumped from his bed and ran to the window.
Jerusalem slept as it always did. Quiet. Ageless.
But for a heartbeat, just one, he saw something else.
The sky had turned red. Buildings, made of glass and steel, towered where old walls should be. A billboard flashed a woman's face — not painted, but digital.
And then it was gone.
The stone walls returned.
The torches flickered as if nothing had happened.
He staggered back.
The black stone on his desk glowed faintly.
He reached for it—
"Asher."
The voice didn't come from the room.
It came from everywhere.
He froze.
"Who said that?"
No answer.
He grabbed his robe and stepped into the corridor. The halls were silent, the stone floor cold beneath his feet. His heart raced.
Then—
The corridor shifted.
Only for an instant.
Instead of stone, it was concrete. Fluorescent lights above him blinked rapidly. Wires dangled from exposed ceilings. Graffiti lined the walls. He smelled blood, smoke, and rain on pavement.
He blinked—
Gone.
The stone returned.
He reached for the wall. Solid. Ancient. Real.
He turned the corner—
—and ran straight into someone.
"Nathaniel!"
It was Brother Eliam, a fellow scholar, carrying a lantern.
"You look like you've seen death itself."
"I…" Nate breathed. "I don't know."
Eliam tilted his head. "You're pale. Sit with me. I was heading to the courtyard to pray."
They walked together in silence. Nate's mind reeled.
Could Eliam see it? Had he noticed the glitch?
They sat on a stone bench under an olive tree, the city resting beyond the walls. A soft wind rustled the leaves.
"Have you ever had a dream," Nate asked, "that felt more real than your waking life?"
Eliam smiled faintly. "Yes. But I've never woken inside a dream and forgotten who I truly was."
Nathaniel looked at him, startled.
"What did you say?"
But Eliam's face was blank now, gaze on the stars.
"Nothing."
A faint crackling came from the stone in Nate's pocket.
Just like static.
Eliam turned to him again. "Do you believe in visions?"
"I don't know anymore," Nate whispered.
Eliam didn't press.
They sat in silence.
And somewhere — far from the olive tree, beyond time, beyond the veil — a tall figure stood before screens glowing with strange symbols. Maps. Stars. Images of Jerusalem flickering between centuries.
He smiled.
His crimson cloak stirred behind him.
"Not yet, Nathaniel," he murmured.
"But soon."