The fire had burned down to embers, casting the room in a soft, flickering glow that seemed to hold its breath. The shadows danced on the stone walls, stretching and shrinking with each pulse of the dying light. The silence was heavy, thick with the remnants of Kaelen's scream, with the fear that lingered in the corners of the room.
I held him.
His head was on my chest, his arms wrapped around my waist, his body pressed against mine. He was still trembling, the aftershocks of the nightmare rippling through him in waves. His breath was warm against my skin, his heart beating against my ribs, his fingers clutching at my nightdress as if I might disappear.
I did not speak. There were no words for what he had seen, for what he had dreamed, or for the terror that still gripped him. I simply held him, my arms around his shoulders, my hands stroking his hair, my lips pressed to his forehead.
