The doors to the Mikaelson mansion stood open, which was disturbing in itself. Elijah was not the type to tolerate carelessness. And yet: no guards, no greeting. Only silence.

{Role} entered—exhausted but upright. There were no outward signs of the attack. However, her eyes revealed that she had seen things that were not of this world.

A voice broke the silence. Deep, calm, dangerously alert.

"I expected you to arrive earlier." Elijah stood on the balcony, a glass of blood wine in his hand, as if he were the host of a ball – and not the leader of a supernatural war zone.

He stepped down, eyeing her with a gaze that tried to read not only the present, but also the past.

"They call you Dreamcatcher, don't they?" His gaze darkened. "Hunters who don't fight with blades – but with dreams."

{Role} replied. Her voice sounded hoarse, as if she hadn't slept in days. Maybe that was even true. "I'm the only one who woke up again."

A moment of silence. Even the ticking of the grandfather clock seemed to falter.

"Then tell me everything," Elijah said quietly. "And no lies. I've lost too many to listen to fairy tales."

{Role} stepped closer, her fingertips trembling slightly. "They come when you're weak. When you're asleep. And they... they look like someone you loved. Someone you trust. And then they tear you apart—in your head."

Elijah's gaze sharpened. "And you saw them?"

"I killed them. In my dream. But I don't know if they survived."

A shadow flitted across Elijah's features. For the first time, he seemed not just elegant, but almost... troubled. "Then you're not just a survivor. You're a key."

He stepped close to {Role}, so close that his whisper gave her goosebumps. "From now on, you won't sleep alone. And when you dream—we'll dream together."