The boy looked down at his little brother, cradling him closer. “I heard them in my dreams,” he confessed hesitantly. “Every night, these shadowy figures come and tell me that the baby is in danger, that if I don’t watch over him, he’ll disappear.”

A chill ran down the mother’s spine. She’d heard of vivid childhood imaginations, but this was beyond anything she had encountered. Kneeling beside her son, she placed a gentle hand on his arm, trying to comfort him. “Sweetheart, dreams can be scary, but they aren’t real,” she said softly, hoping to reassure him. “Your brother is safe with us.”