Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"People speak sometimes about the "bestial" cruelty of man, but that is terribly unjust and offensive to beasts, no animal could ever be so cruel as a man, so artfully, so artistically cruel." Fyodor Dostoyevsky
The sky was ablaze, burning a deep, furious red that cast everything below in a sinister glow. Smoke and ash clung to the air, heavy and choking, as the faint scent of burning flesh lingered with every breath. The ground beneath my feet shook violently, a relentless, steady rhythm that made it impossible to stand still. It wasn't random -it was controlled, deliberate, as if something massive was moving closer.
Blood pooled across the earth, seeping into the cracks of the trembling ground, painting the world in its scarlet stain. Fires raged everywhere, consuming what little remained of the barren landscape. The heat was unbearable, pressing against my skin, making each breath a struggle.
The shaking grew stronger, more powerful with every passing moment. Whatever was coming, it was unstoppable. The earth itself seemed to groan in surrender, its trembling cries swallowed by the unrelenting force approaching.
I gasped, bolting upright, my chest heaving as if the air had been ripped from my lungs. My skin was damp with sweat, clinging to me uncomfortably as my hands gripped the blanket beneath me. For a moment, I couldn’t tell where I was, my heart still hammering in my chest as the vivid images of fire and blood clawed at the edges of my mind.
“Dreams are just dreams,” I whispered to myself, clenching my fists to steady the tremble in my hands. “Just dreams.”
The bed shifted slightly beside me, and I felt the faintest brush of warmth against my arm. A familiar touch, one that softened the terror gripping my heart. eren’s hand caressed my arm slowly, his fingers trailing gently against my skin. He didn’t open his eyes, but his voice came low and soft, heavy with sleep.
“It’s alright,” he murmured, his tone soothing,“I’m here.”
I stared at him, his face half-buried in the pillow, his messy hair falling over his closed eyes. The steady rise and fall of his chest was a reminder of the calm that I had lost in the nightmare. Slowly, my breathing began to match his, and the trembling in my hands eased.
He opened his eyes, his green gaze half-lidded and hazy with sleep, and looked at me. “Is it morning yet?” he asked, his voice rough and soft, barely above a whisper.
I turned my head toward the window. A faint light filtered through the small gap in the curtains, pale and weak. “soon,” I said quietly, brushing a strand of hair away from my face. “It’s too early. go back to sleep.”
He hummed in acknowledgment but didn’t close his eyes, watching me instead as I swung my legs over the edge of the bed. “I’m going to shower,” I said softly. I moved to stand, but before I could fully rise, his hand shot out and caught my wrist.
