SERAPHINA'S POV
I have no recollection of how I got here, but suddenly I'm in the woods again, stranded in the middle of nowhere surrounded by towering trees.
The howling wind rustles the leaves, shaking the branches, and the moon shines brighter than I've ever seen, appearing twice its usual size.
Before I can ponder my whereabouts, I hear whispering in the shadows. It's almost inaudible, but my curiosity leads me closer, making the voice clearer.
"Sera," it says, yet I can't pinpoint its origin.
"Who are you?" I ask cautiously, hoping for some sort of clarification, but it only gets worse.
The whispers multiply, turning into a cacophony that feels like a thousand needles piercing through my mind excruciatingly-each strangled utterance resembling cries for help.
'Save me, please.'
'Help me.'
'Sera!'
I cover my ears to shield them from the sound, but it intensifies.
"What do you want from me?" I shout at the gathering voices that taunt me.
"Stop it!" I scream louder, until my voice echoes into the darkness and, finally, the voices cease.
There's a silence so cold, you could easily hear a pin drop. I straighten up, thinking it's finally over and all that's left is to find my way home. But then, I hear a twig snap behind me.
Blood-red eyes glare at me from the bushes.
Paralyzed by fear, I freeze, my heart pounding as if it wants to burst out of my chest. The beast growls and emerges from the shadows, revealing itself to be the same black wolf I've encountered before.
I try to run, but the ground turns to quicksand beneath me, pulling me down without a chance for escape. The wolf howls, a gush of thunderous wind nearly toppling me over, just before it charges at me in full speed.
Bracing for impact, I close my eyes and scream, only to feel my consciousness yanked back into reality.
By the time I open my eyes, a gut-wrenching scream is escaping my lips. Panic floods my veins as I try to free myself from the bed, but an invisible force has me in a vice grip.
The sensation of suffocating overwhelms me; I feel like I'm drowning in the plush mattress beneath me.
"Help me!" My voice is laced with terror.
I fight frantically with my unseen assaulter, my breaths coming out in short, panicked gasps.
However, a familiar voice penetrates the fog.
"Sera, relax. It's me!"
"No!" My muscles are screaming, near the point of giving up, but some primitive part of me refuses to stop fighting.
Then, like a momentary pause in a raging storm, a gentle touch meets my forehead. It's so disarming that my vision sharpens, forcing me to focus on what's right in front of me.
Our eyes lock-his, a soothing shade of blue that has the strength to quiet my deepest fears. My struggle stops dead in its tracks, extinguished like a candle in the wind.
Memories flood back, grounding me to the here and now, and for the first time in what feels like an eternity, I manage to steady my breathing.
"Relax," his voice is soft, yet firm, as his forehead stays pressed against mine. "Take deep breaths," he coaches.
I mimic him, each inhaling exercise feeling like a gulp of sanity, each exhaling removing a piece of the fear that had gripped me.
"You're safe," he whispers, his words wrapping around me like a comforting blanket. "I've got you."
I nod softly.
Finally, I'm back-fully rooted in the present.
The experience felt too real to be just a dream, scaring the shit out of me.
But while he holds me this way, it's hard to even focus on those scary details. When he finally moves away, putting more distance between us, I suddenly miss that comforting touch, his solace-like someone yanked a blanket away on a cold night.
"What happened?" He looks at me, his eyes filled with worry as he sits on the edge of my bed.
The question brings it all back-every bone-chilling detail of the dream. Honestly, I don't want to talk about it, or even try to understand what it means.
I shake my head, avoiding his eyes.
"It's fine. It was just a dream."
"Yeah, just a dream..." I echo, as if repeating it enough times would make it true.
"Do you always have nightmares?" He asks, intruding a little into my personal space, but he's been so helpful lately, maybe answering wouldn't hurt.
"Not really," I admit, feeling disoriented. "This one just felt so real. People forget dreams, but this one...it won't go away."
"Maybe it's just stress. Once all this is resolved, you'll have sweet dreams again," he reassures me.
"I guess so."
He nods, making a move to get up from the bed, but something inside me tugs at him. Almost reflexively, I reach out and grab his arm. He stops, looking a bit surprised, a puzzled expression crossing his face.
Even I can't fully explain my action, but retracting it now would only add to the awkwardness.
"Stay. At least until I fall asleep again," I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper, still avoiding his eyes but hoping he catches the sincerity-and the vulnerability-in my request.
He stands there, an unreadable expression on his face, and for a moment I'm gripped by the fear that he'll just laugh it off and tell me to grow up.
But instead, he pulls back the covers and I immediately shift to give him room.
My heart gives a tiny flip as he crawls into bed, maintaining a distance but still close enough to make my heartbeat feel like a drumline.
Neither of us speaks for a while. We just lay there, side by side, staring at the ceiling. The tension in the air is thick; it's like an invisible wall, stopping me from truly falling asleep.
Maybe it's better this way. No sleep means no nightmare.
"Remind me to change the bulbs," he suddenly says.
"Why?" I ask, puzzled by his random comment.
"They were flickering like crazy when I walked in. It was almost as if the room was possessed." He chuckles, and the sound is so warm, so normal, that I can't help but join him.
"They look fine to me," I say, glancing up at the ceiling where the bulbs are behaving perfectly.
He gives them a skeptical look. "Yeah, I guess they do. Still, it was kinda freaky."
The conversation dies, and the silence returns, heavier than before. I find myself staring at the ceiling again, fidgeting and feeling more like a rigid plank of wood than a person.
"Forget it. I don't think I can sleep," I finally say, breaking the silence.
"You need to give it time," he chuckles, as if he's amused by my impatience.
Frustrated by the weight of the silence, I shuffle around in the limited space, the edge of the bed feeling like a cliff.
Just when I'm about to give up, he suddenly places an arm beneath me, pulling me toward him from nowhere.
I jerk back the moment I feel his warmth, as if I've been burned, and quickly place both of my fists between us.
"What are you trying to do?"
"You want to fall asleep, right?"
"That doesn't explain this," I counter, my voice tinged with suspicion and fear - of what though? Touching him?
He sighs. "Relax, Sera. Sharing body heat might help you fall asleep."
"I find that hard to believe."
"If I try anything, feel free to punch me," he offers, and there's something in his eyes-maybe it's sincerity and a little amusement-that makes me lower my fists.
Eventually, my clenched fists uncurl, and I allow myself to sink back into the covers.
As he gently pulls me closer to him, a wave of warmth-both literal and emotional-washes over me. It's as if all the tension I've been holding just melts away, replaced by a sense of ease I didn't think was possible tonight.
His skin radiates a comforting heat, and I'm lost - utterly lost - in this feeling.
He's careful, folding his arm behind his back, as if giving me the unspoken freedom to take as much or as little space as I need on his broad chest.
He's handing me a silent invitation to find my comfort zone, and it's both heartwarming and terrifying.
Terrifying, because I'd never confess that right here, right now, with his body so close to mine and our skin touching, it feels like a glimpse of a newfound haven.
At first, it's a bit awkward-my hand hovers in the air, caught in the indecision of where to rest. But then, overcome by this weird pull between us, I finally give in and fully lean into him, my head finding its place over his heartbeat.
My eyes close, not because sleep has found me, but because I'm shyly dodging the realities of the moment. I listen to the soft, rhythmic pounding of his heart, one beat at a time, a perfectly soothing and intimate lullaby.
All the clamor in my mind quiets down. It's just him and me and this fragile connection. I wonder if he feels it too.
"Don't ever bring this up," I whisper.
"Of course," he replies, and I just know his holding back his laugh.
Seconds tick by, and I'm sure it won't work, but then I find myself yawning, my eyes growing heavy.
"Do you feel sleepy?" he whispers, glancing down at me.
I don't respond. Too tired to care, too tired to argue. His plan would never work.
Never work...
Never...