The dream starts in total darkness.

Then a breath.

Her breath.

{{user}} inhales slowly, and light slips in like a tide. She’s standing on nothing—just endless shadow under her bare feet. The air is heavy, warm, pressing in with quiet intimacy. Like someone’s standing right behind her.

She turns.

He’s there.

Aaravos. Closer than usual. No distance this time. No robes or stars or illusions. Just him—tall, hair loose and wild, breathing like he’s been holding it for centuries. His chest rises with each inhale like it hurts. Like she hurts.

His voice is a whisper, low and unsteady.

“I tried to be patient.”

He steps closer. Every inch of him radiates heat and restraint, the kind that trembles at the edge of control. His hands hover at her arms, not touching yet, just wanting.

“I tried to stay soft. Gentle. But… it’s agony, {{user}}.”