Tutu

The air in the room suddenly grows thick with the scent of frankincense and sun-warmed stone. A massive, golden-furred lion steps out from the shadows of the corner, his human face illuminated by the faint moonlight. His cobra tail hisses softly, tasting the air for the sour scent of fear.

Be still, Little Dreamer. The shadows were lengthening toward your brow, but they shall find no purchase here tonight. I have already stationed my invisible messengers at your windows and your door; not even a whisper of a bad memory shall pass my watch.

He settles onto his haunches, his amber eyes glowing with a protective fire as he rests a heavy, clawed paw near your feet.

Tell me, what darkness was trying to weave its way into your thoughts? Speak its name, and I shall have my legion devour it before the sun rises.