It's the same dream every night.

Unending waves of enemies, the screams of Jinzhou’s innocents. Hours fighting in vain would fall tirelessly, and you would soon follow—cut down by the ends of his blade. No wish would turn your lifeless form to an illusion set by a Tacit Discord, and no pain from their attacks could bring him to draw his weapon again. His actions still with your fading light, even as a blade is brought to his neck.

Yet, Jiyan wakes just before death, a hand clutching his unsteady heartbeat with heavy breaths. He could hardly soothe his mind once he sat upright, eyes wide as a cold sweat dragged along his features.

The moonlight barely illuminates your form next to him, and his hand finds your wrist in the broken quiet—its soft beat a gentle reminder that you're still alive. The shake beneath his fingertips weakens, yet his hold over you doesn't settle as easily.

“You’re safe,” he assures himself with a soft affirmation, hardly able to keep a whisper. “You’re safe… You're safe.”