The last thing Zion remembered was closing his eyes amid the enveloping darkness of the room, the calm waves of sleep washing over him like a gentle tide. Novaria's warmth lingered against his side, her steady breaths a soothing lullaby, as he drew deep, even inhales and exhales, surrendering to exhaustion.
When he opened his eyes, the world had shifted into something unrecognizable—nothing but an infinite void of darkness surrounding him, pierced only by the glassy expanse of a vast, bottomless body of water. He was submerged, the icy grip of it seeping into his bones, freezing him in place with a terror that clawed at his chest. The darkness pressed in from all sides, suffocating and absolute, while the endless water pulled at him relentlessly, dragging him downward into its abyss. Panic surged through him like lightning; he began to struggle wildly, flapping his arms and kicking his legs in desperate arcs, fighting to breach the surface that seemed miles away, lungs burning for air that wouldn't come.
Suddenly, a firm touch grazed his feet—cold fingers wrapping around his ankles. He twisted in the murk, heart hammering, and looked behind him through the swirling shadows.
There, staring back with an eerie calm, was his own face—or rather, Sova's. His brother's features, sharp and familiar, cut through the gloom, a reassuring smile curving his lips. It was a smile that whispered promises: Everything would be okay. I'm here. Let me pull you up.
For a fleeting moment, hope ignited in his chest, a spark against the drowning cold. His brother—Sova, the one who'd always had his back, the anchor in their chaotic world—would save him now. He could almost feel the strength in that grip, the lifeline he'd clung to in their youth.
But nothing of the sort happened. The touch didn't lift him; instead, it seemed to weigh him down further, the water closing in tighter. He felt himself sinking deeper, deeper still, the pressure building like a vice around his ribs. Desperation clawed at him as he glanced beneath again, bubbles escaping his lips in a silent scream. Sova was gone—vanished into the inky depths without a trace, leaving only the echo of that smile and the haunting void. Why? Where did he go? The questions ricocheted in his mind, mingling with the rising flood of fear and unspoken guilt, as the darkness swallowed him whole.
Fear crashed over him with brute force, a relentless wave that drowned out reason and ignited every survival instinct he possessed. 'No,' he thought fiercely, 'I have to reach the surface. There's no way I'm dying here—not like this.'
He didn't stop fighting, pouring every ounce of his strength into the battle against the suffocating depths. His arms flapped wildly, slicing through the viscous water, while his legs kicked with desperate power, propelling him upward inch by agonizing inch. 'I can't die here. I won't.'
A faint beam of light glittered just above his head, piercing the gloom like a distant promise of salvation. Faint chuckles echoed in his ears—soft, mocking laughter that twisted the knife of his panic deeper, as if the abyss itself were amused by his struggle. With a final, Herculean surge, he broke through the icy crust encasing the surface, shattering it with his fists as frigid air rushed into his lungs. He stuck his head out, gasping, the cold bite of the night air slapping his face like a cruel awakening.
He sprang up from the bed in a jolt, sheets tangling around his legs like watery tendrils trying to pull him back under. He couldn't help but blink violently, his eyes adjusting to the disorienting shift from dream to reality. The room was shrouded in darkness, just like the lake in his nightmare—oppressive, all-consuming, pressing in from the shadows that pooled in every corner.
He glanced over to the digital clock on the bedside table, its soft red glow the only anchor in the void: 11:30 P.M. A ragged sigh escaped him; he hadn't even been asleep for an hour before the nightmare clawed its way into his mind, leaving him raw and unsettled.
Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead, tracing salty paths over his temples and jaw, despite the steady hum of the air conditioners mounted on the four walls of the expansive cubic room. The chill they pumped out should have cooled him, but his body betrayed him, slick with the phantom heat of exertion and terror.
He fought to steady his breathing, chest heaving as he drew in deep, shuddering gulps of air—each one a reminder that he was alive, on solid ground, not sinking into oblivion. Yet the sensation lingered: the chokehold of water in his throat, the burn in his lungs, as if he'd truly been drowning for real, teetering on the edge of oblivion.
Then, the full weight of the room's darkness dawned on him, seeping into his bones like the cold water from his dream. He hated being alone in the dark—loathed it with a visceral intensity that rooted deep in his past.
How had he forgotten to turn on the lights before sleeping? How had he even managed to fall asleep with the lights off in the first place? Zion knew all too well that recurring nightmares haunted him whenever he stayed alone or tried to sleep in the dark. His eyes darted around the shadowed room as he let out a heavy sigh. It didn't matter now—what mattered was reaching the switch and banishing the darkness.
The darkness was his enemy. It dragged up memories he wished to bury—memories so painful they clawed at his sanity whenever the night grew too quiet.
Just then, a subtle movement caught his attention. Something—or someone—shifted beside him in the bed. Instinctively, Zion tensed, moving away cautiously and turning to his right.
There she was.
Loose strands of brown hair framed her face, scattered carelessly as she slept. Her eyes were closed in peaceful rest, her breathing steady but punctuated by faint snores and soft murmurs in her sleep.
How had he not noticed her before? The realization dawned slowly as fragments of the night's events came rushing back. He shook his head in disbelief. No wonder he had fallen asleep despite the darkness—he had been utterly, blissfully exhausted, wrapped in the warmth of her presence.
For a moment, the fear and coldness of the nightmare faded, replaced by a quiet comfort. She was here. He was not alone.
As Zion made an attempt to slide out of bed and reach for the light switch—his fingers already itching for the reassurance of illumination—her left hand rose languidly in her sleep, falling across his waist with a soft, possessive weight. The unexpected contact rooted him in place, and he turned to her again, his gaze softening as he watched her stir instinctively. She drew herself closer, her body curling toward his warmth like a magnet, until her cheek brushed against his hip, her breath a gentle puff against his skin.
A wave of ease swept over him then, unexpected and profound, washing away the lingering chill of the nightmare like sunlight piercing storm clouds. As she clung to his waist, her fingers splaying lightly over his abdomen, and pressed her face more firmly against his body—still murmuring incoherent words in her dreams, too soft for him to decipher—he felt his heartbeat steady into a calm rhythm. The terror ebbed, replaced by a quiet peace he hadn't anticipated. He was suddenly at ease, the shadows of the room losing their menace; the darkness didn't mean anything anymore, not with her anchoring him like this. Her faint snores resumed that vibrated against him, and he found himself relaxing into it, the tension uncoiling from his muscles one by one.
He closed his eyes, drawing deep breaths in and out—slow, deliberate, mirroring the rise and fall of her chest against his side. His breathing steadied fully now, the frantic race of his heart fading to a gentle thrum, the phantom choke of drowning water nothing but a distant echo.
This wasn't a good sign, and deep down, he knew it. Zion had never been one to be neutralized by a woman, to let vulnerability seep in so easily, so completely. His life had been built on walls of control and independence, forged in the fires of loss and power. So why did this woman—this stranger who'd stumbled into his world—disarm his deepest fear with nothing more than a sleepy touch? The question lingered like a shadow in his mind, stirring unease even as comfort bloomed.
Still, he pushed it aside, ignoring the warning bells for once. With a quiet resolve, he slipped back under the sheets, his body aligning with hers in the dark. He would allow himself to feel everything she made him feel—the safety, the pull, the inexplicable bond—just for tonight. Tomorrow could bring its complications; for now, in the hush of the room, he let her presence be his light.