Panting from the dream world?

The prince reached his room, striding in and throwing himself onto his massive bed, covered with pillows and thick blankets. He drew the bed curtains closed, creating a cave-like space for himself. Lying on the bed, he stared at the ceiling, from which small gemstones carved into mystical animals hung on long chains. As the early evening breeze blew in through the slightly open window, it made the curtains dance and gently swayed the gemstone decorations, causing them to emit a tinkling sound, as if the mystical animals had come to life.

Scarde lay peacefully on his back, then turned onto his left side, running his graceful fingers through his hair, and once again imagined the forest. He envisioned walking along the path, running his hand over the trees' red leaves...

As he happily daydreamed, he became aware of something unusual. It felt as though someone or something was watching him through the curtains. Feeling slightly apprehensive, he pulled one of the curtains back just enough to peek through and cautiously scanned his room. His eyes swept over the dark furniture, bathed in the moon's silver light. Seeing nothing suspicious, everything as it always was. He wasn’t entirely sure if he truly felt as though something was watching him, so he slowly drew back the silk-like, transparent curtains of the bed. Cautiously, he placed his bare foot onto the cold but furry rug. For a moment, he stayed like that, savoring the tickling sensation of the fibers against his skin. Then, rising to his feet, he moved gracefully toward one of his large wardrobes, where the other rug lay, taking care to avoid stepping on the icy marble floor.

Then gently trailing his fingers over the cabinets, across the surface of the furniture, feeling its rough craftsmanship and intricate carvings. His fingertips traced the patterns depicting trees and buildings, rendered with exquisite care.

He walked to the window and looked out. There was nothing visible, only the evening mist settling over the palace gardens. The mist rested amicably in the castle garden, while the starry night illuminated tiny dewdrops on the yellow buds lining the rose path. The prince's gaze lingered on the scene; he often found himself in the evenings watching the garden or softly humming to the shadows that danced on the walls, reflections cast by his window into the room at night.

Scarde sighed, convinced it must have been his imagination.

He returned to his bed, this time with the intention of sleeping. He crawled under the large duvet, rested his head on the feather pillow, and let the world of dreams carry him away. He gently closed his eyes, telling himself it was perhaps just fatigue.

His mind relaxed, and his body found complete tranquility. As he slept, his dreams constantly shifted. He dreamed of peaceful memories, like the first time he left the castle as a child, or the joy he felt seeing the people of the kingdom living happily and being so kind to the young prince. His lips curved into a soft smile as the dreams flowed one after another. Yet there was something unsettling within those dreams that he didn't notice-four blue eyes, not seeming to belong to any human, appearing in the darkness of each dream, always watching.

As the night wore on, a long, continuous dream took hold of Scarde's mind. He wandered through a maze of houses, lost. He had no sense of direction or where he had come from, just walking straight ahead.  The houses looked just as they did in reality, only… they seemed lifeless. It was as if the entire town had been abandoned. When he reached the end of the street, he found himself in a familiar place-the edge of the forest. The wind ominously rustled the leaves, and the darkness emanating from the forest sent a shiver down Scarde's spine. He moved slowly toward the first tree, when at last he saw those blue eyes.

The forest itself exuded darkness, as if it intended to swallow the boy whole. A chilly wind blew, and he could almost feel the freezing cold on his skin, the same cold that raced through the trees and played with the leaves, creating a haunting sound. There were no birds singing; the path seemed desolate. The crimson and amber leaves rustled angrily as the branches, darker than manganese brown, tossed them around in the wind. The usually welcoming basil-green moss appeared menacing, with its flowers reaching toward the sky like tiny hands trying to grasp Scarde's feet.

As he tossed and turned in his bed, shivering at the sight of those eyes and the forest in his dream, a chill ran down his spine. They were radiated coldness and foreboding, yet there was also a strange warmth and loneliness within them. The icy blue hues mixed with coral and manganese blue, like a kyanite stone bleached bright by the sun. They are stared at him, freezing him in place. He couldn't move. Two sets of eyes, one pair above the other, as if a four-eyed creature was staring him down. Their gaze grew colder and colder, nearly freezing the blood in his veins. The scene dredged up Scarde's deepest fears and worst memories from childhood, pulling forth negative emotions. Dark memories surfaced, like the time when he was younger—perhaps only seven—when a merchant nearly cut off Scarde’s little finger because he had wanted to pet a newborn calf. Or the time a visiting relative came, and in his playful spirit, he decided to play hide-and-seek but chose the wrong hiding spot, nearly drowning in the fountain. Childhood fears, that adults now laugh about, but in this moment, it felt as though he had been thrust back into those memories, reliving the suffocating terror of the knife or the desperate struggle for air.

The slit pupils didn't widen in any sign of friendliness. And then suddenly... the creature closed its eyes, and darkness engulfed Scarde, jolting him awake with a gasp.

He panted, struggling for breath as he sat up in bed, clutching at his throat as if he had been strangled in his dream and had just escaped. He couldn't shake the image of those kyanite eyes, their icy stare seeming to pierce through his very flesh. He began to tremble, terrified of what this dream could mean. Reaching for the pocket watch carved from Firefly's diamond on his nightstand, he held it to his chest, pleading with his mind to erase the nightmare. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't forget it. The image was burned into his mind.

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