10
It was a horrible f*****g dream. It was indistinct and shifting like all dreams, but Silas knew he was in bed and not alone. A woman that could only be described as a cross between a harpy and a banshee was with him under the sheets, screaming and clawing at him. The room around him, at least from what he could see as bits and pieces of it shifted into focus, was a large bedroom fit for a king or rather, a princess. A large canopied bed stretched toward the cavernous ceiling, which was painted with an elaborately detailed mural. The sheets were a silk and satin blend. The walls were beautiful marble, and tapestries, also incredibly detailed, hung along the veined stones.
The room seemed vaguely familiar; he felt he should know it from somewhere. But it wasn't the good kind of m
