The darkness inside Silas's shadow cloak was absolute, but it was not cold. It felt like heavy velvet draped securely over her shoulders. Valeria held tightly to his hand as he guided her through the unseen architecture of the dreamscape. Outside their protective bubble, she could hear the terrifying sounds of the nightmare horde searching for them. There were heavy, dragging footsteps, the snapping of massive jaws, and the metallic clinking of rusted chains. The Goddess of Nightmares was tearing her own mind apart trying to find them.
Silas moved with flawless, silent grace. He did not need to see the ground beneath his feet. He felt the subtle currents of fear and malice flowing through the dream and navigated precisely between them. He was a creature born in the dark, and he treated the hostile divine domain like his own personal hunting ground.
But the Goddess realized she could not pierce the shadow cloak with blind searching. She decided to change the rules of the maze.
