[Scene: Ethan’s Bedroom]

Ethan awoke with a sharp gasp, his chest heaving as though he’d surfaced from deep water. The remnants of the nightmare clung to him, vivid and disjointed. He remembered running through an endless corridor, the walls pressing closer and closer, the laughter—soft and cruel—echoing behind him. And then, a face. Shamble’s face. It loomed larger and larger until the world dissolved into darkness.

The morning light filtered through the curtains, cutting pale streaks across the room. It felt too bright, too intrusive. Ethan wiped the sweat from his brow and swung his legs off the bed, his feet finding the cold, hardwood floor. For a moment, he sat there, head in his hands, willing the dream to dissipate. But it didn’t leave—it never truly did. The sense of unease lingered, a shadow at the edge of his vision. The kettle whistled as Ethan poured steaming water over his coffee grounds. The rich aroma filled the kitchen, but even that couldn’t distract him. His gaze drifted toward the desk, where the notebook remained locked away in the drawer. He hadn’t touched it since the night before, but the image of the sketch was seared into his memory. “Focus,” he muttered, shaking his head. His calendar blinked on his phone screen. Meetings. A book signing event at 2 PM. He stared at the schedule, absently stirring his coffee. His newest novel, the hourglass, was performing well, and his publisher was eager to capitalize on the buzz. There were interviews lined up for next week, promotional shoots, and brainstorming sessions for his next book. But his mind wasn’t on any of it. At his desk, Ethan tried to sketch something new. A character for the next manuscript, perhaps. The face of a hero, or a villain. But every time the pencil touched the paper, his hand faltered. The lines were wrong—too sharp, too familiar. The face of Shamble emerged in fragments, unbidden. He tossed the pencil aside with a frustrated grunt. His phone buzzed, pulling him back to the present. A text from Naomi. NAOMI: Feeling better? Big day ahead. Don’t forget to eat. Ethan smiled faintly and typed back. ETHAN: Thanks. I’m good. See you later? She didn’t reply immediately, and that was fine. He didn’t want to explain the storm inside his head—not yet.