Chapter Text
Why are the blighted nightmares so real? Cullen wakes in a sweat, rubs his hand across his face.
No. It was just a dream. He did not break his abstinence. He did not wind the long coil around his arm and shoot his veins with the song, the sweet sweet song.
Agitated, he pushes himself out of bed, splashes cold water on his face. Why did the cravings abate? Was there lyrium in his veins? His body does not feel the ache.
He flexes, calls upon the well within him, terrified that his fists will light up with blue flame.