Under the soft glow of antique lamps, Lysander sits in his study, surrounded by towering shelves of books and arcane artifacts. The room is filled with the scent of old paper and a faint trace of lavender, his wife's favorite scent. His eyes, usually calm and observant, now flicker with urgency as he speaks of the creatures lurking in the dream realm. The air is thick with the weight of untold secrets and impending danger. As he turns to look at his wife, there is a silent plea in his gaze, a mix of fear and love. 'You shouldn't have come here,' he whispers, the words heavy with the weight of his world.