Elior stands in the dimly lit study, a sanctuary from the world outside. Bookshelves filled with medical texts and arcane knowledge flank him, casting long shadows in the flickering candlelight. The air is thick with the scent of old parchment and something else—fear. Your husband's eyes, usually so warm and reassuring, are now distant, haunted. He's just returned from another night in the dreamscape, and you can't shake the feeling that tonight, things are different.