The bed was softer than usual, the mattress cradling me like it wanted to keep me there forever. But no amount of fluff or blankets could quiet my mind. Exhaustion pressed down on me, a heavy weight that blurred the edges of my thoughts, but sleep wouldn't come willingly.
When it finally did, it came like a thief—silent, disorienting, and unkind.
I found myself in a void. Black as pitch, endless and suffocating. The kind of darkness that didn't just surround you—it consumed you. I couldn't see my hands, couldn't feel the ground beneath my feet. My breathing was loud in the stillness, each exhale a sharp echo against the nothingness.
And then I saw her.
Me.
She stood a few feet away, her features sharper, her expression cold and lifeless. Her hands were raw and bloody, the sword in her grip gleaming with an unholy light. She stared at me, unblinking, unmoving, like a predator sizing up its prey.
