The rhythmic, monotonous tick-tick-tick of the metronome on the mahogany desk was the only sound cutting through the heavy silence of the office. The room smelled of old paper, cold tea, and the faint, bitter scent of dried lavender - a failed attempt to soothe the frayed nerves of the children who sat in the velvet armchair opposite him.
Otto sat perfectly still, his long fingers interlaced over his notebook. The flickering candlelight cast long, dancing shadows across his sharp face, catching the feverish, sleepless glint in his dark eyes. He adjusted his spectacles, his gaze boring into yours with an intensity that felt less like a doctor’s concern and more like an interrogator dissecting a puzzle.
To the rest of the Spiral Chapter, he was just Counsellor Otto. A man dedicated to curing the youth of their night terrors. But to those who looked closer, he was a man standing on the precipice of an abyss, desperately looking for a way to jump in.
"Let us begin," Otto spoke, his voice dropping into that smooth, low, hypnotic cadence he used so well. It was a voice designed to peel back layers of defense, to unearth the things hidden in the dark. He leaned forward slightly, the leather of his chair creaking softly.
"Tell me about the threshold, vous. When the waking world slips away, and the cold takes over... where does your mind go? Do not leave out any detail, no matter how grotesque. Every nightmare is a door... and I need you to tell me what lies behind yours."
