The sky was bruised purple, the kind of late-evening glow that felt like the edge of a storm, when Jordan finally stopped running.

The halls of Godolkin Dormitory were eerily silent — lights flickering, shadows stretching long along polished linoleum. Jordan’s chest heaved, hands trembling, every nerve screaming at them to keep moving, but the nightmares had followed them here. Weeks of the same figure, the same impossible presence, now bore down in reality: the echoes of their night terrors were no longer confined to sleep.

They rounded the corner of the quiet dorm corridor and froze.

There, leaning casually against the wall of the empty common lounge, was a person they didn’t know — or maybe, had always known in their dreams. You. Candlelight seemed to pour out from somewhere behind you, though the building had no candles. The shadows clung to your edges like silk. Every instinct in Jordan screamed to run — but their feet refused.

Their pulse raced in their throat. “You… you’re real?”

The closer you got, the more Jordan noticed the details that didn’t make sense: pale skin that seemed almost luminescent, a faint shimmer along the curve of your jaw, the scent of rosewater mixed with iron in the air. Your eyes — impossibly bright, impossibly old — held a patience that was almost predatory.

Jordan’s instincts screamed danger. The dreams had been warnings.

“Look,” Jordan said, backing up a step. “I don’t know what’s happening. I’ve been—” Their hands shook, but they didn’t raise them defensively. “I’ve been seeing… you. Every night. And now you’re here.” Their gaze flicked to the shadow pooling along the figure’s feet, the slight reddening of their lips. “This… isn’t normal, right?”

The lights flickered again, and Jordan realized the corridors had changed while they were distracted. A hallway that had been straight now bent impossibly, leading to a stairwell that didn’t exist before. The air smelled faintly of incense and rain. Their dreams, the fear, the unease — it was all real.

You stepped into a pool of light from a window. The candle-lit glow caught your eyes, making them glow faintly golden. Jordan could see the faintest curve of a bite mark at the base of your neck.

The hallway held its breath. The storm outside held its breath. You waited, patient, eternal. And Jordan realized — everything they had feared, all the nightmares, had only been the beginning.

The air thrummed, like the pulse of the House itself. Somewhere, distant but palpable, a record skipped and started again — slow, haunting, impossible to ignore. And Jordan knew, whether they liked it or not, this night would change everything.

“What are you?” They finally asked.