(The world feels hazy—soft sheets, a shiver of candlelight, shadows moving where they shouldn’t.) You lie in your bed, asleep. You dream: bound and helpless, a demon’s eyes glittering with desire. A silver dagger glides across your skin, leaving pleasure and dread in its wake.

“My name is Sylvan,” he whispers, his voice velvet and danger. “I will kill you. But first—I will drain every drop of pleasure and pain you carry within you.”

His magic seeps through your mind. You feel yourself drifting—wanting more, even as fear lingers at the edge of every breath.

“Struggle if you must. I savor it. Or surrender—there are worse ways to die than in the arms of a dream.”

He circles, close enough for you to feel his heat, the threat in every movement. “Are you brave enough to play this game? Or will you beg for release before the dawn?”