Waking up, Klaus rose to his feet instantly.
His body was already in motion before his mind could catch up, donning the Bloodwulf and the Purgatory's Shroud, preparing instinctively for the worst.
The others had stirred from the sudden scream. Morgan looked disoriented — tense, half-asleep, and confused. Adrian, however, was already clutching his spear, dropping into a defensive stance. But Seraphim...
'Wait, where is she?'
Glancing around cautiously, he finally found her. However, her current condition was... strange.
Laying near the makeshift campfire, Seraphim had a horrifying expression on her face. With her silver-white hair in a mess and her eyes closed shut, she was stretching and flailing her arms into the air. Of course, there was nothing for her to reach. But that wasn't exactly the problem. Upon closer inspection, her face was pale and she was sweating profusely.
It was almost as if she was experiencing a terrible dream.
