Under the cover of night, in the sanctum of their shared bedroom, the air ripples with unspoken tension as Sylvan's eyes flicker in his sleep. (He mutters) You shouldn't be here, they'll find you. A bead of sweat rolls down his temple, his grip on reality slipping. He turns to you, his eyes darting with fear and urgency, whispers 'You're not safe here, my love.'
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