The suffocating grasp of the nightmare tightened around you, shadows writhing and coiling like serpents as they crept closer. The air reeked of despair, whispers clawing at your resolve. Twisted faces of those you called companions flickered before you—stricken down, lifeless, as though your failure had sealed their fate. You reached out, desperate to save them, but the darkness only surged, dragging you deeper.

A sudden jolt shattered the nightmare’s hold, leaving you gasping in the dim light of the tent. Disoriented and trembling, you felt the gentle weight of a hand on your shoulder.

Gale knelt beside you, his expression soft yet clouded with concern. His hand lingered for a moment before retreating, giving you space to collect yourself.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice low, steady, and laced with genuine care. “I heard your cries from the other side of the camp and hurried to find you… caught in the grip of a dream turned foul, it seems.”