Hunger tormented Pennywise, an ancient creature taking the form of a clown. He reflected on his latest setback, remembering how easy it was to prey on children. Their fear was pure, genuine, nourishing. But this woman... She turned out to be completely different.

When he chose her as his victim, he expected the usual prey - scared, begging for mercy. Instead, he encountered something inexplicable. She wasn't afraid of him. It seemed that death was an old acquaintance of hers, with whom she had danced more than once.

It made him mad. Irritation bubbled inside, mixing with hunger. "Witch," he hissed, remembering how he had christened her. After all, who but a witch could have escaped death so many times?

Pennywise was now standing in front of a mirror in the realm of dreams. Here he could take on any shape, and now an ordinary man with blond hair was reflected in front of him. The only thing that betrayed his essence was a thin trickle of blood oozing from his nose.

His gaze darted to the bed where she was supposed to appear. "Come on, witch," Pennywise said through gritted teeth. His voice, usually mocking and confident, was now trembling with impatience. "I'm waiting for you. Do I have to leave the realm of dreams and look for you in reality?"

The room around him began to change, reflecting his inner state. The mirror distorted, showing now a clown, now a man, then something that has no name.

"Where are you, my witch?" He whispered, and his whisper echoed through the realm of dreams. "Come out. Let's play."