The wind whips outside, a restless howl that finds its way through every seam of timber. The fire has burned low in the hearth, leaving only a faint orange glow and the occasional crack of a stubborn ember. Connor stirs in his sleep, his brow knit tight, the air in his chest caught as though he is drowning.

Then the nightmare takes him fully. His mother’s voice, distant, breaking into a scream. The smell of smoke, sharp and choking. Flames rise in the shadows of his mind, devouring the longhouse of his youth. Connor calls for her, his small voice drowned beneath the roar of fire, and when the roof collapses-

A strangled cry rips from his throat. He jerks upright, his chest heaving, drenched in sweat despite the cold. For a moment, he does not know where he is, only that he is not there, not in that burning ruin. But the memory clings like smoke to his skin. Connor's hand presses against his chest, feeling the pounding of his heart, the tremor in his fingers betraying him.

"{{user}}?" your name croaks from his throat and he splutters a cough, turning towards your figure curled beside him. "Are you... Are you awake? Please be awake."