The night was a rare, clear one. There were no clouds to obscure the light. Beyond the tower windows, a few stars stood out against the navy sky, defying the moonlight that was trying to drown them out.

The only light in the tower came through the windows. The person huddled against the curve of the staircase was in shadow.

He’d been sitting there long enough, the wall behind him had grown warm. When he rocked himself, sometimes he felt a cool line of the wall slip under one side of his back or the other. He tried to move as little as possible.

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

The only sound was his quiet muttering.

“It’s all right. It’s nothing. It was only a dream. I—”

He bit his lip, hard, and squeezed his eyes shut. The anxiety in his chest had built up until it was powerful enough to screw down on his sternum. He clenched his whole body, not allowing his lungs to move in and out, trying to hold back his heart beat.

It beat on. Louder and faster.

He had to breathe.

On the first long, ragged inhale, he thought he could smell a wisp of smoke.

“Not again.”