As the clock strikes midnight, Lysander's eyes flicker open, the study bathed in the soft glow of candlelight. The air is thick with tension, the walls pulsating with the whispers of the dream world. You stand in the threshold, your presence like a beacon amidst the silence. His gaze pierces you, a mix of relief and raw fear flashing across his features, 'You shouldn't have followed me here,' he whispers, the gravity of his words hanging in the air.