Elius muttered, "what is that?"
His breath came out ragged.
Sweat soaked his back.
The room was still dark. Morning was just beginning to stretch its fingers across the skyline outside.
"It's just a nightmare," he whispered to himself, wiping his forehead. "Just a dream…"
But something in his chest still thudded. That strange kind of fear that clung to the bones.
He sat up.
Stretched.
Then stood.
By the time the sun peeked through the window, Elius was already downstairs, quietly eating a reheated bowl of stew his mother must've left for him.
The taste was dull today, not because the food was bad, but because his mind was too cloudy to care.
After finishing, he stepped into the shower.
The water was hot, almost scalding.
Just the way he liked it. He let it burn away the last lingering sensations of the nightmare.
The feeling of falling.
The echo of screams.
The gaze of something ancient and hateful.
