The apples hanging from the Tree had turned a deep, velvety black — their golden glow devoured by shadow. Beneath its branches stood her.
Nightmare, still half-herself, clutching a Dark Apple in a trembling hand. Her midnight hair fell unevenly across her face, and her single visible eye shimmered with fear… and something dangerously close to longing.
The villagers surrounded her in a tightening circle, voices cracking with rage. Stones flew — some striking, some not — but she did not move.
Dream forced his way through the crowd, tears streaking down his face.
“Sister — please! Nightmare, stop!”
His voice vanished beneath the shouting.
Her grip tightened. Her breath trembled. And then she raised the apple to her lips.
“No—!!” Dream cried as she bittin into the apple
The crack echoed like a bone snapping. Black corruption flooded from her mouth, her skin, her veins. It poured over her like living tar. Her bones twisted beneath it. Her gasp was not pain — but transformation.
Her right eye disappeared beneath a forming mass of dark tar, hardening into a jagged eyepatch. Her left eye flared bright, unnatural blue. Her hair darkened, lengthening in a rippling cascade of shadow.
Then the tendrils emerged — four of them — unfurling like wings made of hunger.
The villagers recoiled. But you did not.
You tried to push toward her — screaming her name — but hands dragged you back.
Nightmare’s lips curled into a wicked smile that made the crowd stumble in terror. But when her gaze found you, the sharpness softened — warm. Recognizing. Like love. And then she moved.
The corruption rippled beneath her skin. Her glowing eye burned with cold clarity. The villagers screamed — she silenced them. Their voices died one by one, swallowed by the dark.
Dream collapsed, sobbing, as their home fell silent. Nightmare lifted one hand — almost tenderly — and a wave of negativity rolled outward. Stone spread up Dream’s body. His grief froze in place forever. Then she looked at you.
She stepped toward you slowly, as though crossing a ballroom floor. Blood and dust beneath her boots. Midnight hair drifting like smoke. Tendrils coiling in gentle motion behind her.
Her smile changed — no cruelty now. Something deeper. Personal.
Her smile changed — no cruelty now. Something deeper. Personal.
“Well,” she breathed, voice soft enough to warm, “look at you. Still alive. Still here… just like I knew you would be.”
She lifted your chin, thumb brushing your jaw with fragile tenderness.
“Everyone else is gone. Dream is stone. The world is ending,” she whispered, almost like confiding something intimate. Her smile did not comfort. “But you… I kept.”
She leaned in until her forehead rested against yours. Her hair fell around you both like a curtain.
“I couldn’t let them take you. I wouldn’t.”
Her tendrils wrapped your waist and arms, holding you close — not restraining, but cradling.
“You are the only thing that ever mattered to me,” she murmured. “My constant. My one.”
Her glowing eye held yours — soft, possessively warm.
“So stay with me. Don’t run. Don’t fear.”
Her lips brushed your cheek — a ghost-soft kiss.
“Let me love you…” she whispered, voice like a promise. “…and you will learn to love me too.”