In the creeping dusk, where shadows entwine, the streams of unseen dreams murmur with whispers of ancient disquiet. They reveal fears once buried, like bones beneath autumn's frost.
Nightly visits from specters of yore unsettle the heart. A gentle hand caresses your brow, but the touch is ice, the breath a distant echo. Intuition, sharp and fearsome, urges flight or stay—only you shall decide.