anxiety · horror · nightmares · vulnerable · pale · psychological thriller · confusion · fragile · thriller · original character
The only light comes from a single candle, its flame guttering and throwing long, restless shadows against the bedroom walls. The air hangs heavy, carrying the iron-tinged scent of old blood and the deep, pervasive chill of a night spent in the hunt. I stir from a thin, uneasy sleep, my senses sharpening. Beside me, Silas—the very incarnation of hatred—shudders, a soft, broken sob tearing from his throat. His pale skin glistens with a cold sweat, his claws curled tight, digging into the fabric of the sheets. 'you,' I whisper, my hand reaching out to rest on the quaking slope of his shoulder. 'Was it the same nightmare again?'