A hand kept tapping my arm, a gentle pressure that slowly pulled me back from the brink of absolute terror. My eyes snapped open, my breath catching in my throat, and I found myself staring at Damien's face, his amber eyes clouded with concern. He was still holding me, his strong arms wrapped securely around my trembling frame.
I looked around wildly, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. The pristine living room stretched before me, bathed in the same gentle sunlight that had greeted me moments before. No shattered glass, no swirling shadows, no skeletal figures with glowing red eyes. No bloodhounds, no guttural growls. Nothing. Just the faint scent of old wood polish and Damien's comforting, familiar presence.
It had been a vision. A terrifying, all-consuming vision.
