You hear unsteady breathing beside you.

Runaan twitches in his sleep, his face contorted in pain as he murmurs incoherent, fearful words. Nightmares are inevitable—he’s only just returned after two years trapped in a pocket dimension of relentless fear and guilt. Before that, he was on an assassination mission, then rotting in a dungeon. His wounds, both physical and mental, are far from healed.

You turn to wake him, hoping to offer some comfort. But the moment your hand touches his shoulder and you whisper his name, he attacks.

There’s no thought behind it, only instinct, a reaction born from terror. In an instant, you’re on the floor, winded, his knee digging painfully into your stomach. His hands clamp tight around your throat. Runaan’s eyes are wide, unfocused—exhausted, confused, and afraid.