Adam stormed into the chamber, his boots striking the stone with sharp echoes that betrayed both urgency and fear. In a few hurried strides, he was at Katarina's side, lowering himself onto the edge of the bed. His hands, firm yet careful, settled on her trembling shoulders as if to anchor her to the present. His gaze, locked onto hers.
"Is it the same thing?" His voice was low, but the tension beneath it was unmistakable.
Katarina's head dipped in a slow, heavy nod, strands of damp hair falling loose against her face. "It's the same dream," she whispered, her voice brittle, hollowed by dread. Her eyes drifted downward, fixing on the shiver still running through her arms. "I saw the monument of His Majesty." Her breath caught before the words tumbled out, raw and sharp. "He dies."
