By IMERPUS RELUR
--
Imer once feared the dark.
Not the darkness outside—
but the one that lived beneath his bed.
He knelt.
Lifted the sheet.
No monsters.
No fangs.
Just an old book—
> Bound in his skin.
Written in his breath.
He opened it.
The first page read:
> "You wrote me when you were too young to bleed."
And the pages turned themselves.