That night, Dydra's nightmare returned.
Sleep had taken her slowly, creeping over her like a reluctant shadow. Even after she lay down, her mind refused to rest. The events of the day replayed endlessly in her thoughts—the castle corridors, the fear of being discovered, and most of all, the elite who seemed capable of bending the fate of others with little effort.
Eventually, exhaustion pulled her into sleep. But peace did not follow.
Darkness wrapped around her the moment the dream began. She stood in a place that felt vast and empty, yet suffocating all the same. A thick fog drifted along the ground, swirling around her ankles like living mist. The air felt cold and damp, carrying the faint metallic scent of blood.
Her heart pounded as she turned slowly, searching the endless shadows around her.
Then she saw him.
He stood several steps away, emerging gradually from the darkness as though the night itself had formed his body.
It was the elite.
