The darkness wrapped around Seraphina like a heavy cloak, suffocating and inescapable. Shadowed figures danced at the periphery of her vision, their faces hidden behind veils of obscurity, their whispers cutting through the silence like knives. The air thickened with a tension she could not escape, every breath she took a painful reminder of the unseen weight pressing against her chest. She tried to move, to flee from the encroaching nightmare, but her feet were rooted to the earth, sinking deeper with each desperate attempt, as if the ground itself sought to claim her, to drag her into the abyss.
And then—those eyes.
Golden, burning eyes that pierced the suffocating blackness, their unblinking gaze searing through the haze. They shone with something primal, something ancient, something raw. The gaze held her in place, an invisible force more powerful than anything she had ever known, a weight that pressed upon her very soul, threatening to swallow her whole.
Seraphina awoke with a sharp gasp, her body drenched in cold sweat, the haunting image of those golden eyes still burning into the depths of her mind. Her breath came fast and shallow, her chest rising and falling with the panic that gripped her.
The shadows in her room felt oppressive, heavier than they had ever been, as if the very walls were closing in on her, threatening to crush her under their weight.
It was just a dream, she told herself, pressing a trembling hand to her forehead as she tried to steady her racing heart. But the echo of those golden eyes lingered, their gaze still sharp in her memory, a force she could not shake.
She reached for the water pitcher on her nightstand, her hands shaking as she drank deeply, hoping the cool liquid would ground her, but the unease that settled in her chest refused to dissipate.
Suddenly, the sound of hurried footsteps and clattering armor reached her ears, breaking the silence of the night.
Her pulse quickened, and she moved quickly to the window, parting the heavy drapes to peer out into the night.
Below, she saw the movement of guards, their torches flickering in the dark. They were dragging a man between them, his body limp and unresisting. The sight stirred a sense of unease deep within her.
Who was he? Why was he here, in the dead of night? Her fingers curled around the stone of the window frame, her eyes narrowing as she watched, cold and silent, her thoughts turning sharp.
The door creaked open behind her, and Marielle entered, her expression tense, her brow furrowed with concern. She didn't need to speak for Seraphina to know that something was amiss.
"Your Highness," Marielle said softly, her voice steady but laced with an underlying unease, "a man was found unconscious outside the gates. No identification, no weapons. Nothing. We have no idea who he is."
Seraphina's gaze flicked to her advisor, her eyes narrowing in calculation. "What are they doing with him?"
"He's being taken to the dungeon," Marielle replied, her voice low, a touch of concern creeping into her words. "We suspect he may be a spy, or somehow linked to the recent incidents along the eastern border. The raiders, the strange movements in the kingdom… He could be involved."
Seraphina's thoughts raced, each possibility darker than the last. She studied Marielle with a quiet intensity, the decision forming in her mind even as her heart raced. "Get the healer to treat him," she ordered, her voice sharp and unwavering. "I will speak to him tomorrow."
Marielle nodded, her posture a mixture of respect and reluctant compliance. "As you wish, Your Highness."
With a final bow, she turned and exited, leaving Seraphina to the silence once more.
Seraphina closed the window, the cold air lingering for a moment before it was sealed out. She crawled back into her bed, the weight of exhaustion finally pressing down on her. But the uneasy hum from her nightmare, the lingering presence of those golden eyes, refused to fade. Sleep came, but it was troubled, restless, as shadows whispered just beyond her reach, and her dreams churned with images of a darkness that felt too close, too real.