Mykel was sweating. I noticed it when I woke him from a deep slumber the night of his 18th birthday. It was late, almost the time of Nightmares. And tonight, I would pull back the curtain. The leatherbound tome I dropped on the table made him jump. I could tell by the way he blinked up at me, under the basement's singular light, that he was lost… confused and afraid. I smiled. "Nightmares are not to be feared." My hands ran over the ornate shapes on the tome's cover, the symbols of an ancient being, and I slowly opened the latches. The book appeared to breathe. "He has haunted slumbers long before the Golden Age, and with every new generation, he tests our worthiness… our loyalty." I flipped to a page filled with an image, corner to corner, weighted by layers of charcoal and blood. A lock of hair was sewn into the tome's gutter. The text on the next page also shimmered crimson. "Tonight, you will carry on our legacy." Before Mykel could muster the breath to argue or ask questions, the sound of rattling chains filled the room. Mykel turned and peered into the darkness at the back of the room. The soft chitters of an Eliksni I'd captured earlier that day joined the metal chorus as it tugged at its restraints. I led him forward and lit the sconces on the wall, revealing the prisoner in question. Mykel looked up at me, eyes wide and tearful. "Extract its fear," I instructed.