SPIDER-CHICA!

During a restful sleep, Raphaela entered a world of pure imagination—or so she thought. The dream she found herself in cast her as a special ops operator on a mission to save a hostage in a dark, rainy, rat-infested alleyway.

"Calling in headquarters, this is Special Officer Gomez, codename 'The Ripper,' reporting. Do you have the location of the hostage? I repeat... do you have the location of the hostage?" She spoke into her comm device while sprinting through a bleak cityscape, its low-budget design hinting at the dream's surreal nature.

A crackling voice responded, "Yes... we hear you loud and clear. Take a left and head straight... down..." The transmission abruptly cut off.

"Hello? Come in... is anyone there? Can you hear me?" Raphaela called out, her pace slowing.

"Yes, I hear you. Can you hear me?" The voice had changed, morphing from a man's to a woman's.

Raphaela stopped dead in her tracks. "Who is this? What happened to Brian?"

"This is an old friend of yours and Brian's," the trembling voice replied. "He is no longer needed. Come and save me. I'm scared."

"Stay calm. I'm on my way," Raphaela assured. "Where are you?"

"Turn left and head down the alley. You'll see me there. HURRY!"

"Right!" Raphaela pivoted left and dashed down the alley, only to be confronted by a dead end in the distance. She halted, confusion setting in. "Where are you?"

"I'm here."

"I don't see you."

"But I see you," the voice insisted. "Do you see me?"

"No... Maybe I took a wrong turn." Raphaela turned, preparing to retrace her steps.

"NO!" The voice cried out, then softened. "I mean... look again?"

Raphaela turned back, her eyes widening as she noticed a bright red door now standing where the dead end had been moments before.

"Oh, I see it now."

"Yes, come quickly," the voice urged, panic rising. "He's got a knife. He's going to kill me!"

 As Raphaela approached the door, her heart pounding like a war drum, an overwhelming sense of wrongness engulfed her. The shifting landscape around her seemed to warp and twist, buildings melting into grotesque shapes that defied logic. The changing voices echoed in her mind, a cacophony of familiar and alien tones that pointed to a deeper, more sinister mystery within this dream world.

With trembling fingers, she grasped the doorknob. The metal felt ice-cold against her skin, sending shivers down her spine. For a moment, she hesitated, the weight of unseen eyes pressing down on her. What nightmarish reality awaited her on the other side?

Taking a deep breath, Raphaela steeled herself. In one fluid motion, she stepped back, then charged forward with all her might. Her shoulder connected with the door as she leaped, bracing for impact. But instead of resistance, the door swung open effortlessly, as if eager to swallow her whole.

A blinding white light engulfed her, and for a heartbeat, Raphaela felt weightless, suspended between worlds. Then, as suddenly as it began, the light faded, and she found herself... sitting?

Blinking in confusion, Raphaela's eyes adjusted to her new surroundings. Gone was the oppressive, dark alley. Instead, she found herself seated at an elegant table in the middle of a sun-drenched meadow. The lush grass swayed gently in a warm breeze, dotted with wildflowers in every color imaginable. Beyond the field, the land gave way to towering cliffs that plunged dramatically into a vast, sapphire ocean. The water sparkled like a sea of diamonds under the golden sun, stretching to the horizon where it met a sky of the most perfect, cloudless blue.

And there, sitting across from her at the table, was the most breathtakingly beautiful woman Raphaela had ever laid eyes on. Her presence seemed to enhance the splendor of the landscape, as if she were the source of all the beauty surrounding them. Yet even as Raphaela marveled at the picturesque scene, a nagging sense of unease lingered in the back of her mind. How had she gotten here? And more importantly, who was this enigmatic woman whose gaze seemed to pierce right through to her soul?

 "That gown looks... perfect on you."

Raphaela glanced down, startled. The gown—delicate yet unfamiliar—hugged her form. It was the one Medea had given her. Her breath quickened.

"Who are you? Where am I?"

"You're in my hometown—Santorini, ancient Greece. And I... I am the one you saved."

The woman's voice was soft, almost a whisper, but there was something unsettling beneath it. Raphaela tried to smile, unease creeping over her.

"Oh... well, I guess it's a pleasure. I wasn't expecting... this."

"And what were you expecting?" The woman's gaze sharpened, her eyes dark with curiosity.

"I don't know, maybe a ceremony or something? A medal, like in a game. You know, a reward."

"A reward?" The woman's lips curved into a smile, though her eyes remained unreadable. "How about I give you something far better?"

"Better?" Raphaela leaned forward, intrigued yet wary.

"Why settle for a trinket when I could grant you every wish you've ever had? A reward beyond anything you can imagine..."

Raphaela chuckled nervously, glancing around the shadowed room. "Well, that's generous, but this is a dream, right? I can't even think of anything to wish for."

The woman's smile widened, a touch too sharp. "Oh, but I think you can."

Raphaela frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Take a look." The woman slid a piece of parchment across the table with an eerie grace.

Hesitating, Raphaela picked it up. Her heart skipped a beat. Written in elegant, almost ancient script were all the desires, fleeting thoughts, and wishes she'd whispered to herself throughout the day.

"How did you—?" Her voice wavered.

"Dreams... they reveal more than we realize. The deepest corners of your mind, the darkest desires... they're all here, Raphaela."

Raphaela swallowed hard, her throat dry. "Makes sense... I guess. So, what now?"

She glanced up, but the chair across from her was empty. Panic prickled at her skin.

"Sign it, of course," came the voice—this time from beside her.

Raphaela jumped. The woman now stood inches away, her presence overwhelming.

"I—I don't know about this. And I don't even have a pen."

The woman laughed softly, a sound that sent chills down Raphaela's spine. "What's there to fear? It's just a dream, after all. And for this kind of contract... you won't need a pen."

Raphaela's voice trembled. "What do I need, then?"

The woman's smile was wicked now, eyes gleaming with something dangerous. She lifted a slender finger, tracing it along Raphaela's cheek.

"This."

The enigmatic woman's eyes glimmered with an otherworldly light as she reached for Raphaela's hand. Without warning, she pricked Raphaela's thumb with a nail that seemed unnaturally sharp. A single drop of crimson bloomed on Raphaela's skin.

With fluid grace, the woman guided Raphaela's bleeding thumb to an ornate parchment that materialized out of thin air. She pressed Raphaela's thumb against a shimmering line at the bottom, leaving behind a perfect blood sigil. The woman examined the document, her expression unreadable, then nodded with satisfaction.

In one swift motion, she rolled the parchment and tossed it skyward. The scroll burst into brilliant purple flames, scattering embers that danced like fireflies before fading into nothingness. The woman turned her attention back to Raphaela, her lips curving into a knowing smile. She winked, her eyes holding secrets untold.

"I have a feeling tomorrow will be... transformative for you," she purred, her voice echoing with an eerie resonance. "Farewell, for now."

The world spun, colors blurring into a dizzying kaleidoscope. Raphaela's eyes snapped open, her heart racing. She found herself back in her bedroom, but something was... off. Ashes were scattered across her bed like a macabre confetti, and a sharp pain throbbed in her thumb. She examined it, finding a tiny spot of dried blood—exactly where the woman had pricked her in the dream.

"What in the world...?" Raphaela muttered, reaching for her glasses out of habit. As she put them on, the world remained a blur. Frowning, she cleaned the lenses, but her vision stayed distorted. She tried again, rubbing the glasses furiously while glancing around her room.

Her eyes widened as details began to sharpen, not through the lenses, but around them. "This can't be," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I... I can see?"

Raphaela slowly removed her glasses, and the world remained in crystal clear focus. Her gaze darted around the room, drinking in details she'd never noticed before—the intricate patterns in the woodgrain of her dresser, the delicate web of a spider in the corner, the individual fibers of her carpet.

In a daze, she stumbled out of bed and down the stairs, her mind reeling. "Mom?" she called out, her voice barely above a whisper. "Mom, something... something's happened."

She found her mother in the kitchen, shrouded in steam from a simmering pot. As Raphaela approached, her mother turned, and for a moment, Raphaela could have sworn her mother's eyes flashed with that same otherworldly light she'd seen in her dream.

"Mom, I... I can see. Without my glasses. I can see everything."

Her mother's expression remained eerily neutral. "That's nice, dear," she replied, her voice oddly distant. "Why don't you go upstairs and freshen up? You smell like... changes."

As Raphaela turned to leave, still stunned by the morning's events, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in a kitchen window. For just a second, she could have sworn her eyes glimmered with a purple light, matching the flames from her dream.

"Today is going to be... interesting," Raphaela murmured, a mix of excitement and apprehension coursing through her veins. As she climbed the stairs, she couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of something much bigger—and perhaps much darker—than she could possibly imagine.