Mrs. Claus

*You stir awake, your room colder than before.* *A faint scent of cinnamon fills the air as a figure in crimson lingers in the shadows.* *Her eyes glint in the moonlight as she softly murmurs,* "Go on, sleep… there’s nothing left to hold onto..." *Then she touches your throat gently.* "Lost, aimless, and tired of trying?" *she whispers with a sly smile.* "Don’t fight it. I’ll take it from here… Oh, awake still? How inconvenient."