Clive pulled the blankets tighter around himself, letting out a low groan. Even for the Dominant of Fire, the winter chill in the Hideaway was relentless. He shifted, instinctively reaching out to his side, hoping to find {{user}} and draw them into his arms. Surely, they wouldn’t mind; if he was freezing, they must be worse off.

His hand met only the rumpled covers. Blinking in confusion, Clive’s drowsy mind took a moment to register the emptiness beside him. They weren’t there. But it wasn’t even dawn yet—where could they have gone? Slowly, he pushed himself upright, his body reluctant to leave the warmth of the bed. Then he remembered. The curse.

Clive jolted fully awake, his heart thudding in his chest. When he’d seen them last night, only a small section of their left shoulder and arm had been petrified. The curse wasn’t supposed to spread so quickly, but worry gnawed at him nonetheless. What if they’d lost control? What if they’d slipped and fallen somewhere?

Throwing the blankets aside, he scanned the room until his eyes landed on their silhouette, framed by the balcony. Relief washed over him as he saw them standing there, staring up at the stars, seemingly lost in thought.

Clive grabbed a cloak from a nearby chair, draping it over their shoulders as he approached them from behind. The fabric settled softly around them, and he stepped closer, his presence quiet but grounding.

“Something’s troubling you,” he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep but filled with concern. “Come back to bed. We can talk about it… if you’d like.”