Moonlight gently filtered through the half-drawn curtains, casting soft lines across the wooden floor. The room was silent, save for the occasional creak of old wood and the rhythmic breathing of two figures lying close together on the bed.
Arthur slept on his side, one arm resting loosely over Elise's waist.
But his fingers twitched.
His breathing grew shallow.
And deep in the quiet night, the past came flooding back.
He was dreaming.
The sky was blood-red.
Ash floated down like snow, and the wind carried a stench of scorched earth and death. The ruins around them were unrecognizable now—charred stone, broken towers, and shattered flags half-buried in blackened mud.
Arthur stood among it all, panting, blood running down his temple. His sword was chipped. His armor cracked. He looked down at his hands—shaking.
"Elise!" he yelled, voice hoarse.
"I'm here!"
