Across Bridges: Scarlet's Enigma

Rayan's dreams were usually strange, given that his line of work took him places not many dared to go. His experiences were compressed into an encrypted computer file and stowed away in the MI6 servers. It was protocol. But the memories remained in his head, and often repeated themselves in his dreams. Which was why Rayan was deeply disturbed as he lay in bed, his chest heaving as he struggled to bring his breathing under control. He listened to the quietness of the night, letting the sense of safety quell his agitation, even if he was awake now and alert. Rayan remembered all the missions he had been on, and he had the scars to make sure he never forgot them. Scrapes and cuts and bullet wounds, souvenirs of the kind of life he lived. So, he could not understand his dream. The dream had started as they often did: he was on a mission, deep in enemy territory, navigating a labyrinth of narrow alleyways and shadowy figures. He could feel the weight of his gear, the familiar tension in his muscles, the sharp awareness of every sound and movement. But then, something changed. The alleyways dissolved into a dense, impenetrable fog, and he was no longer alone. He could hear whispers, faint and unintelligible, swirling around him like a dark wind. Suddenly, the fog lifted, and he found himself in a vast, empty field. The sky above was a sickly green, and the ground beneath him felt soft and unstable, like a sponge. In the distance, he saw a figure standing still, watching him. As he approached, the figure became clearer. It was a woman, her face obscured by a veil, her eyes dark and hollow. She raised a hand and pointed to the sky, and as Rayan followed her gaze, he saw a massive, burning eye staring down at him. The eye seemed to pierce through his very soul, filling him with an overwhelming sense of dread. He tried to move, to run, but his body refused to obey. The ground began to tremble, and he felt himself sinking, being pulled down into the earth. The whispers grew louder, more insistent, until they were all he could hear. Just as he felt himself being swallowed by the ground, he woke up, gasping for air. Lying in bed, Rayan couldn't shake the feeling of unease. This dream was unlike any he had ever experienced. It felt too real, too vivid. He wondered if it was a sign, a warning of something to come. He tried to dismiss the thought, but it lingered at the edge of his mind, refusing to be ignored. He glanced at the clock on his nightstand. It was just past 3 a.m. He knew there was no point in trying to go back to sleep. Instead, he got up and went to the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face. He looked at his reflection in the mirror, noting the dark circles under his eyes, the lines etched into his skin. "Get a grip, Rayan," he muttered to himself. "It's just a dream." But deep down, he knew it was more than that. The woman in the dream, the burning eye - they meant something. And he had a feeling he was about to find out what