Sleep didn’t come gently this time.
It pounced.
The moment her eyes closed, the world fell out from under her. No soft drifting, no slow slide — she was yanked straight into the dream realm like something had been waiting just behind the veil, pacing, impatient.
The air was different tonight.
Thicker.
Charged.
Alive.
She stood in a narrow corridor made of shifting shadows, the walls pulsing faintly like a heartbeat buried inside the dark. Every breath she took felt borrowed, like she wasn’t supposed to be here anymore. The air hummed with tension, as if the dream itself was bracing for something.
And then she felt him.
Not heat.
Not breath.
Not a hand.
His presence.
It rolled through the corridor like a stormfront, heavy and magnetic. Her spine reacted before her mind did, every nerve lifting with recognition.
“You came back,” he said.
His voice was deeper tonight, threaded with something raw — exhaustion, desperation, hunger, or all three twisted together. When he stepped forward, he looked the same as he had the night before: sharp jaw, ember-lit eyes, heat radiating off him like he wasn’t built for human temperatures.
But something was wrong.
His edges flickered, like he was struggling to stay fully formed.
“You’re fading,” she whispered.
“Because crossing for you isn’t free.”
He stepped closer, placing a warm palm against the side of her neck.
“Every night I touch your world, I lose a piece of mine.”
Her breath stumbled.
“You shouldn’t come back then.”
He held her jaw gently, eyes burning into hers.
“I can’t stay away. You’re the one who called me the first night. You opened the door.”
“I didn’t mean to,” she whispered.
“You meant every part of it.”
Before she could argue, the corridor trembled violently. A noise split through the dark — the same tearing sound from Night Three. A jagged crack ripped open in the air behind them, leaking a cold that didn’t belong in any dream.
He shoved her back, his body shielding hers.
“They followed me,” he growled.
A shape formed in the tear, tall and twisting, its edges bending like smoke and bone at the same time. It didn’t walk — it glided. Its presence froze the air around them, turning her breath into mist.
The creature spoke without a mouth, its voice scraping across her mind.
“He owes us.”
The man behind her stiffened.
“She owes you nothing. Leave her out of this.”
“You crossed too far,” the creature replied.
“You touched what wasn’t yours.”
Hot fear raced down her spine.
“Touching me… cost you this much?”
He didn’t look at her.
His jaw clenched.
“Dream-walkers aren’t meant to form bonds with humans. Not physical ones.”
The creature drifted closer.
“Return to us, or she pays.”
He stepped in front of her fully, heat pouring off him so fiercely she felt it in her chest.
“No.”
The creature surged.
The corridor split with light and shadow colliding, wind slamming her backward. The man grabbed her wrist, pulling her into his arms as the entire dreamscape turned violent — walls shattering, floors breaking apart.
“You need to wake up,” he shouted over the chaos.
She tried. She forced herself to. But the creature’s cold grip wrapped around her ankle, dragging her down. Pain shot up her leg, her vision blurring, the world collapsing under her feet.
“Let her go!” he roared, flames erupting from his hands — real flames, blue and wild.
He severed the creature’s hold with a burning strike, then lifted her, cradling her against him.
His voice broke as he held her face.
“I can’t protect you anymore if you keep coming back. Wake up. Please.”
Her chest tightened.
“I don’t want to leave you.”
He touched her forehead, heat pouring into her skin like a final imprint.
“You have to. Before they drag you into my world… permanently.”
The dream imploded —
light, dark, heat, cold, everything collapsing at once.
And she shot awake in her bed with a scream choking her throat.
Her pillow was soaked.
Her chest was heaving.
Her leg — the one the creature grabbed — burned.
She threw the blankets off.
A dark bruise wrapped around her ankle like a handprint.
Not his.
Theirs.
Night Four had left its mark…
and this time, it wasn’t the kind she wanted.
