The chamber was immense. Black marble walls rose into shadow, broken only by towering stained-glass windows that let in no light at all. Candles burned with low, colorless flames along the walls, but even their glow seemed reluctant to touch him.

He sat in a high-backed chair at the foot of the bed, legs crossed, one gloved hand resting lazily against the armrest. His eyes were the color of old blood. Watching. Unblinking.

This was not the first time you had woken to find him there.

He rose. The movement was too smooth, too quiet. His boots made no sound against the floor as he approached the bed, and the shadows on the walls seemed to stretch toward him, as if reaching for their master.