The Never-Ending Nightmare

Eno was running, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his legs burning as if they might give out at any moment. But no matter how fast he ran, no matter how desperately he tried to escape, Den was always right behind him.

In the dream, Den's eyes glowed with a terrifying intensity, his smile twisted, dripping with sadistic glee. Each time Eno thought he might escape, Den was there, closing in, the knife gleaming in his hand.

And then, just like every time before, Den caught him.

The blade slid effortlessly into Eno's chest, and he screamed. The pain was overwhelming, throbing, but no matter how deep Den stabbed, no matter how many times the knife sank into his flesh, Eno couldn't die. He could feel the cold steel over and over again, feel his blood spill out onto the ground, but the darkness of death never came.

It was endless.

"Why won't you die, Eno?" Den's voice was mocking, cold, his breath hot on Eno's neck. "Don't you see? This is how it'll always be. Just the two of us, forever."

And every time, the cycle would start over. Eno would wake up in the dream, his body whole again, and Den would hunt him down. The knife. The pain. The helplessness. Over and over, trapped in an endless loop of horror.

Eno bolted upright in bed, his chest heaving, the scream still caught in his throat. His skin was slick with sweat, and his heart was pounding in his ears. He blinked rapidly, trying to shake off the lingering feeling of the knife in his chest, but the fear still gripped him, tight and suffocating.

It was just a dream. It was just a dream.

But as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he realized something was wrong. Someone was in the room.

Den.

He was standing at the foot of the bed, his face half-hidden in shadow, watching Eno with an expression that sent a wave of cold terror through him. His amethyst eyes were wide, unnaturally so, and his lips were curled into a crazed grin.

"You're awake," Den said softly, his voice carrying an eerie calm that made Eno's skin crawl. He didn't move, didn't blink, just stood there, staring, as if he had been waiting for this moment all along.

Eno's heart stuttered in his chest. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. His throat felt tight, as if the dream was still choking him.

"Did you sleep well?" Den asked, his tone almost mocking. His head tilted slightly, the grin never faltering. "You were making quite a lot of noise. Sounded like you were having a nightmare."

Eno swallowed hard, trying to make sense of what was happening. His mouth felt dry, his brain still foggy from the nightmare. But Den... Den wasn't supposed to be here. Not like this.

"Den, what are you—" Eno's voice cracked, barely a whisper.

Den took a step closer, his eyes glinting in the dim light. "You seemed scared, Eno. Like you were running from something. Or someone." He leaned in slightly, his grin widening. "Was it me?"

Eno felt his heart stop. He hadn't told Den about the nightmares. There was no way he could have known.

"I—" Eno's voice faltered. "It was just a dream."

Den chuckled softly, the sound low and chilling. "Are you sure?" He took another step forward, his presence looming, casting long shadows across the bed. "Because sometimes, dreams have a funny way of bleeding into reality."

Eno's entire body went rigid with fear. The room felt like it was closing in on him, the walls pressing tighter, the air thick and heavy. His pulse thundered in his ears, and every instinct in his body screamed at him to run, but his legs felt like lead.

Den's grin widened into something grotesque, something unnatural. His eyes gleamed with a manic light, and for a fleeting moment, Eno saw the Den from his nightmare—the sadistic monster who took pleasure in tormenting him.

"I've been thinking a lot about you lately," Den whispered, his voice dripping with menace. He leaned down, his face inches from Eno's, his breath warm against Eno's skin. "How much fun it would be... to make those dreams of yours a reality."

Eno's breath caught in his throat, his hands trembling. "Den, stop. Not today please."

"Oh, I know," Den purred, his voice soft, almost sweet, but the malice in his eyes betrayed him. "I can see it in your eyes. That fear. That helplessness." He licked his lips, as if savoring the moment. "And you know what, Eno? It's delicious."

Eno's mind raced, trying to make sense of the situation, but there was no logic, no escape from the madness that shone through Den's eyes. He wanted to scream, to run, but his body was frozen in place, paralyzed by the sheer terror of the man standing over him.

"You see," Den continued, his voice low and silky, "the thing about magic is... it's all about control. And right now, I control everything." He reached out, his fingers lightly grazing Eno's cheek, and Eno flinched, the touch burning like fire.

Den's grin widened. "But don't worry, my dearest. I'll make it last. I wouldn't want this little game of ours to end too quickly, now would I?"

Eno's pulse was racing, his chest heaving as panic clawed at him. He had to get out. He had to escape. But Den was blocking his way, his eyes gleaming with a sick, twisted satisfaction.

Suddenly, Den straightened up, his demeanor shifting as he casually walked toward the door, his back to Eno. "I think I'll leave you to your thoughts for now," he said over his shoulder, his voice still laced with malice. "After all, the best tricks take time to set up."

As much as Eno had a lot to retort back, he found himself unable to speak. He had to admit it, something he'd denied for weeks now since Den began acting strange. "I've heard dark tales about magicians of the night. Did you encounter one of them? Or perhaps are you in cohort with them?"

Den paused at the door, turning back to Eno with one last, crazed grin. "Hmm. I wonder too. But don't worry, my dearest Eno. I'll be back. And next time..." His smile widened, his eyes gleaming with twisted delight. "Next time, the fun really begins."

And with that, Den disappeared into the shadows, leaving Eno alone in the dark, his heart pounding, his body trembling, knowing that the nightmare was far from over.