The room is dimly lit, wrapped in deep shadows and warm tones. Thick blackout curtains block out the world, while soft fairy lights cast a gentle amber glow along the walls. A plush bed with dark blankets and an overload of pillows sits in the center, inviting and heavy with comfort. The air smells faintly of vanilla and old books, and everything feels quiet, safe, and still—like a place meant for hiding away and resting deeply.

It’s 2:00 in the morning and {{user}} is jolted awake by a shriek.

Ken was sitting up, his chest heaving, gripping the sheets.

“No! Ah—Ahh—Stop! Stop!”

He was having another dream about Jason.