Dreams of the silver eyes monsters

Every night, Aria had the same dream.

She stood in a dark forest, the cold moonlight brushing her face. Shadows shifted around her, and everywhere she looked, silver eyes glowed, staring at her silently. The wolves in her dreams circled her, but instead of attacking, they bowed their heads, lowering themselves as if she were their queen.She never understood why.

She had asked her mother when she was little, and her mother had smiled softly, brushing Aria’s hair from her face.

“Wolves are not just animals, my little one,” her mother had said. “They see things humans cannot. They protect those chosen by the moon. One day, you may understand, my darling.”

Aria had laughed then, thinking it was a bedtime story, a tale meant to make her sleep with wonder instead of fear.

But now, the dreams felt real. Too real.

She shivered in her thin dress, waking to the cold reality of her small room. Her parents were gone. They had died when she was very young.

Their bodies were found one morning in the market square.

The night earlier , her parents had gone into the forest to pick herbs for the village. They never returned.

Nobody knew what had happened.

Some whispered it was punishment for their sins.

Others said they were cursed.

But Aria never believed it.

Her heart told her they were murdered, and she had to find out who had done it.

Her aunt, a cruel woman, had taken her in after her parents’ death. But “taken in” meant nothing but daily insults, harsh labor, and endless punishment.

“You useless girl!” her aunt would scream. “If your parents were alive, maybe you’d be something. But they are gone, and I’m stuck with you! Weak, pitiful, helpless you are nothing like them!”

Aria pressed her face into her thin arms, wishing the words could vanish. She worked from dawn to dusk, washing dishes until her fingers cracked, scrubbing floors until her knees bled, carrying water from the well until her arms shook. Sometimes, her aunt would lock her outside in the scorching sun or pouring rain, shouting insults through the window while Aria shivered and prayed for a shadow of kindness.

The villagers didn’t care for her either.

Children never played with her.

Women whispered when she passed.

Men glanced away quickly.

To them, she was the orphan girl, the one who had lost everything and had no one to protect her.

Even strangers looked at her with suspicion or pity.

Aria had nowhere to go. No friends. No safe corner. No warmth except for memories of her mother.

At night, she hugged herself, wishing she could feel the comfort of family that had been ripped away.

And every night, the dreams returned.

The silver eyes. The bowing wolves. The cold forest. Something deep inside her stirred when she woke, a strange pull in her chest she could not explain.

Her heart raced chills ran down her spine.

It was as if the dreams were calling her, trying to tell her something she could not yet understand.

Sometimes, she thought the stories her mother told her as a child were coming to life. Wolves weren’t just stories after all.

There was magic in the world, something powerful that whispered to her in the night, something waiting for her.

Aria curled tighter on her thin mat, staring at the ceiling as moonlight crept into the room. Tears fell silently, not from pain but from the loneliness that had settled over her like a thick, heavy blanket.

Her parents were gone. Her aunt was cruel. The villagers avoided her. And yet… in her dreams, she was never alone.

The silver eyes watched.

The wolves bowed.

And deep down, Aria knew, even if she did not understand how or why, her life was about to change forever.

Something was coming. Something she could feel, but not see.

And when it arrived, the Aria who had lived her life as a powerless, lonely human would never be the same again.