The room felt smaller, oppressive, as if the walls of aged, faded wood were gradually closing in around Hyan. The once-vibrant blue paint was now dull and stained by moisture, forming irregular patterns that, under the faint yellow light seeping in from the hallway, seemed to twist and come alive on their own. Distorted shadows danced around him, sinister and almost mocking, while the heavy silence of the house was broken only by strange, constant sounds: the creak of the floor, the endless drip of a distant faucet, the muffled sound of his own breathing, which seemed to sync with the melody of anguish surrounding him.

He felt every sensation around him with an almost unbearable intensity, as if trapped in an invisible snare, being pulled into an abyss. With hesitant steps, he approached the sink, his bare feet touching the cold wooden floor, which seemed to freeze him to the bone. He wore only thin pajamas, and the icy breeze sneaking through a crack in the window made his skin prickle, intensifying the feeling of vulnerability. His trembling hands gripped the edge of the ceramic sink, the rough texture of the material contrasting with the sweat dripping from his fingers, each drop a reminder of the tension consuming him.

The mirror in front of him reflected the image of a shattered, broken boy. His deep red eyes were surrounded by dark circles, as if all the pain and suffering of his soul were etched onto his face. He stared directly at himself, and what he saw was something distant, a fragmented version of who he once was. His face was tense, his jaw clenched tightly, the muscles in his face strained and visible, as if he were forcing himself to hold it together. But the facade was fragile, as broken as he was. He was on the verge of collapse, and every beat of his heart sounded in his ears like a deafening drum, marking the rhythm of his impending fall.

His chest tightened, the air seemed to drain from his lungs with every breath he tried to take. A familiar feeling of suffocation settled in slowly, like an old acquaintance returning to haunt him. Hyan closed his eyes, trying to push away the memories that insisted on invading his mind. But they came like a tidal wave, uncontrollable and merciless: grotesque monsters, gaping mouths, distorted smiles, magic exploding in light and chaos. He had seen it, he knew it was real. And he couldn’t escape.

The nightmares had haunted him throughout his childhood, always the same creatures with enormous mouths and glowing eyes, relentlessly chasing him through the shadows. Now, those visions seemed to have leaped into the real world, coming to life in a cruel way. For a brief moment, he saw the monstrous smiles reflected in the mirror, hidden in the shadows twisting around him. He tried to look away, but his eyes fixed on the reflection, as if searching for answers that would never come.

— This isn’t real... — he murmured, his voice low, trembling, almost inaudible, as if trying to convince himself was the only thing left.

He pressed his fingers harder against the sink, his knuckles white with tension as the cold ceramic burned his skin, a sensation so sharp it almost felt physically tearing. The room around him seemed to tilt, as if the floor were about to give way beneath his feet. The walls pressed in, and the sounds of the house grew louder, more intense, like an incessant hammering echoing in his ears. The air was thick, and he felt as if he were being swallowed by an invisible abyss, a growing pressure that made him want to disappear.

Hyan closed his eyes, trying to remember the moments when Cassandra would comfort him after a nightmare. She used to hold his hands, her touch firm and reassuring, assuring him that everything would be okay, that the scary things couldn’t cross the barrier of reality. But now, there was no Cassandra. There was no promise of safety anywhere. Only the grotesque mouths, laughing in the shadows.

— It’s just a dream... — he tried to repeat, but the words were lost in the void, his conviction withering with each syllable, as if his own voice were abandoning him.

He looked at his own arms, bare and exposed under the faint light. The scars were there, unmistakable—thin, subtle, but impossible to ignore. Marks that carried stories of lonely nights, of moments when he could no longer distinguish what was real and what was a creation of his mind. It was a secret no one else knew, a constant reminder of the silent battles he had fought with himself, of the pain that lingered like an unwanted shadow.

— It’s all in your head... — he whispered, but this time the words seemed to dissipate into the void, offering no comfort.

A hot tear rolled down his cheek, followed by others, tracing a wet path to the wooden floor beneath him. Each drop seemed to strip away a bit of the strength he had left, as if he were unraveling, piece by piece. His legs faltered, unable to support the weight of his body, and he fell to his knees, the icy impact of the floor against his bare skin amplifying the feeling of emptiness. He tried to find some support, anything that could stop his fall, but the shadows in the room offered nothing solid, nothing real.

— Just wake up, damn it! — he shouted, but the sound came out hoarse, low, like a muffled groan, as if his own words were dying before they could dissipate into the air.

He curled up on the floor, his face pressed against the damp wood from his tears, each breath harder than the last, his skin cold, his body curled into a position of total surrender. There, on the floor, he was nothing more than a reflection of his own pain—someone who no longer had the strength to resist his own despair. The weight of loneliness and fear crushed him like a boulder, turning him into a distant echo of himself.

And then, with his body defeated by exhaustion and his mind weary of fighting the monsters that never faded, Hyan fell asleep. Sleep came as a cruel relief, a temporary endpoint in an endless cycle. But he knew it wouldn’t end there. Not really. The horrors would continue to chase him, each nightmare a promise of more pain, more shadows.