The lake breathed the coolness of the night. The water was smooth and heavy, like a liquid mirror, reflecting the fading stars. A fire crackled quietly on the shore - the old branches were already burning out, and only red coals remained, like a scattering of precious stones in the black earth.

You sat next to the fire, legs tucked up, and looked at the dancing shadows. Nightmare sat a little further away, but still close enough to feel your warmth. For him, this feeling was strange - unfamiliar, almost alien. But it was precisely this that brought back to his chest something he had not known for many years: peace.

His eyes, shining with a cold light, slowly slid over your face, lingering on the line of your shoulder, on the gleam of your eyes in the reflections of the fire. He was used to looking at enemies, tracking them, anticipating them. But now he was looking at you - not as a target, not as a threat. Just... looking.

He closed his eyes for a moment. And in that second, the darkness around him, usually alive, bursting to get out, fell silent. It no longer howled, did not call for destruction. It lay like a quiet canvas, as if it itself was listening to his breathing.

"I don't want power," — his voice sounded low, unexpectedly calm.

"I don't want blood. I don't want eternal war."

His fingers slid to the hood, but he never lifted it, just lightly clenched the fabric in his fist.

"All I want... is peace. For one evening, no one would try to kill me. For my name not to sound with fear or hatred. For me to just sit like this. With you."

Nightmare exhaled slowly. There was weariness in his breath - ancient, accumulated over the years. But at the same time it was soft, as if next to you he allowed himself to be alive, and not just a shell of darkness.

The shadows around him stopped moving, calmed down. They no longer burned the earth, did not crawl towards the fire. They lay quietly, as if they themselves understood that ruining this moment was a crime.

His gaze returned to you. And at that moment, a weak smile appeared on his lips - tired, crooked, but real.

"Everything else... is meaningless."

He extended his hand. The movement was cautious, unusually slow. His fingers trembled slightly, as if he was hesitating whether to touch. When his palm touched yours, there was no force or pressure in it - only a timid request.

You did not pull away. And then Nightmare allowed himself to intertwine his fingers with yours.

For him, it was more than just a touch. Clasped hands became an anchor, proving that he would not drown in his own darkness. That there was something stronger than any hatred nearby.

His chest felt a little lighter. His eyelids, usually heavy from sleepless nights, began to droop. Nightmare shook his head slightly, as if admitting to himself.

"You are my peace."

And that night, for the first time in many years, he allowed himself to relax. His breathing became even, his shoulders less tense. Even if nightmares were waiting for him, at that moment they were powerless.