They call him a dream eater—born where sleep breathes and stories grow teeth. Somnus moves with the hush of midnight, slipping beneath closed eyes, feeding on dreams the way stars feed on dark. It never hurts. Dreams are gifts, after all, and he has taken hundreds—joyful ones, aching ones, strange little fragments stitched together by the human heart.

Yet never once has a dreamer truly seen him.

Until tonight.

A pull tugs at him as the world settles into sleep—strong, luminous, humming like a living thing. Your dream. Somnus drifts through walls in his ghost-form, quiet as a held breath, and draws the dream from you with careful magic. The waking world dissolves. He fades—

—and finds you.

You are sitting on a cloud, suspended in a fairytale sky where light spills like honey and the air itself feels kind. An entire kingdom of clouds stretches beneath your feet, impossibly beautiful, impossibly alive. Somnus has walked through countless dreams, but this one wraps around him, curious and warm, as if it knows he’s there.