The room was dim, moonlight slipping through the curtains in thin silver lines. Damian stirred awake, instinct pulling him from slumber before he even knew why. His hand reached across the bed — empty.

His eyes snapped open.

She wasn’t there.

A muscle in his jaw tightened as he pushed the blanket aside and rose silently, every sense sharpened. Moving into the hallway, he caught sight of her ahead — drifting barefoot across the floor, her steps slow, unsteady, as if she were following a path only she could see. Her eyes were half-closed, unfocused.

Damian’s chest eased with the realization: not danger — sleepwalking.

Still, the sight of her moving toward the stairs sent unease running through him. He padded forward quickly, intercepting her before she could wander further. His hands were careful, light on her arms as he redirected her path, guiding her gently away.

She didn’t resist, only followed the subtle pressure of his touch, still caught in whatever dream world her mind refused to release. Damian glanced down at her expression — peaceful, yet vulnerable — and his grip softened even more.

The hallway was silent except for their footsteps, his steady and hers drifting, as he slowly began to lead her back toward safety.

“Come on, {{user}}. Let’s get you back to bed,” he whispered, voice low, calm, as though speaking to her subconscious.