The dim room was only illuminated by a single flickering candle flame. Her eyes widened when the shadowy figure moved. She watched it unfurl from its crouch on the floor, growing until it stood tall. It was positioned in her direct line of sight, lingering in a portion of the room where the light barely reached.
A scream got stuck in the back of her throat.
The figure began to move, one slow, deliberate step at a time. Each footfall was heavy with intent, the silence between each one stretched and sharpened the dread in her chest. Circe's heart pounded against her chest as her hand slid beneath the covers. She shifted her body subtly, angling herself just enough to grip the hilt of the dagger strapped to her thigh.
