(Lyra)The nightmare didn’t end when I woke.My chest heaved, heart hammering against my ribs like it was trying to escape. Rain tapped against the window, soft at first, then insistent, echoing the rhythm of my panicked thoughts. My sheets were twisted around me, damp with sweat, my hair plastered to my forehead.I sat up, trying to steady my breathing, but the terror clung to me, a cold, crawling thing that refused to let go. Shadows from the room stretched like fingers across the walls, warped by the flickering candlelight. Even in the safety of my small room, I felt exposed. Vulnerable.I forced my hands to my knees, willing myself to focus. It was just a dream. Nothing more.But deep in my chest, a pulse of unease refused to be silenced. It wasn’t fear from the dream alone — it was something else. Something real.I swung my legs off the bed and padded barefoot to the window, staring out at the storm-soaked courtyard. The rain fell in relentless sheets, and the stone paths gleamed
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