Night had settled over the city like a grimy veil.

  From the top floor of the apartment they shared, the view looked like a cold postcard: gray buildings, flickering streetlights unsure of their own glow, and the distant sound of a car occasionally breaking the heavy silence.

  Dahlia stepped barefoot onto the balcony, a cigarette already rolled in her hand. The lighter sparked a couple of times before catching flame. She inhaled deeply, letting the dense, earthy smoke fill her lungs with its blend of chemicals and artificial calm.

  She leaned against the rusted metal railing. Her eyes, sleepy but alert, scanned the empty asphalt below.

  And then she saw it.

  A silhouette. A wolf. Large. Dark fur. Crossing the street at full speed. No cars. No witnesses. Just her.

  She froze, the cigarette trembling slightly between her fingers.

  "Shit..." she whispered. "What the hell was that?"

  She blinked, looked again. Nothing. Just the empty street, the urban fog swallowing the corners like an invisible monster.

  "It wasn't real," she thought. "It was the mix. Another damn hallucination." She rubbed her eyes and went back inside without saying a word.

  That night, silence settled over them like an unwelcome guest. And when sleep finally reached the three of them... it brought more than just rest.

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  Kali's Dream

  She was in an elegant hall, with marble walls and a chandelier hanging from the ceiling. She danced with Nicco. He looked at her tenderly. Their bodies moved as one, floating to the rhythm of music barely audible.

  But something was wrong.

  They turned in front of a mirror, and what Kali saw froze her.

  She was alone. Still dancing, yes, but there was no one with her. The reflection showed the truth her body refused to accept: emptiness. Abandonment.

  She woke up with a tightness in her chest she couldn't explain... or maybe she could.

  Niccolo's Dream

  He walked down a cobbled street he didn't recognize. His clothes were from another era: waistcoat, tall boots, a scarf that choked his neck like a noose. The city seemed asleep, but eyes were everywhere.

  Suddenly, shouts. Hands grabbed his arms. They slammed him to the ground. He couldn't see their faces. He only felt the cold chains locking around his wrists.

  He tried to scream, but had no voice.

  A cell. Dark. Isolated. He stared at himself from outside, his own eyes desperate. The fear wasn't of prison. It was of never being... free.

  He woke up with his chest burning, gasping as if he had truly run for his life.

  Dahlia's Dream

  Everything was gray. She stood in the middle of an empty street, wrapped in a dense fog, like the world had been switched off.

  On the other side, a figure in black approached. Faceless. Soundless. Only the crunch of its steps.

  The figure extended a hand.

  Dahlia hesitated. She could feel it: if it touched her, something would change. Something would break. It was an invitation, yes, but also a sentence.

  And still, she stepped forward. Her trembling hand lifted... and just before touching that figure's skin, she felt a blow to her chest.

  As if someone had ripped out a memory that was never hers.

  She woke up with a start. Silence. Only her uneven breath and the echo of the dream pounding in her head.

  The city kept sleeping, indifferent.

  But something unseen had already started moving between them.