"Come find me."
Lucy shot upright, drenched in a cold sweat. Darkness wrapped around him like a heavy shroud. The ground beneath was covered in silver grass that shimmered faintly, bone-white trees clawed upward toward a starless sky, and the soft snores of his four companions filled the stillness around him.
'I'll find you, alright—just to kick your ass when I do.'
His heartbeat pounded against his skull like war drums.
The dream had returned. The same damn nightmare—haunted faces of those he'd killed in the battle against Ithriel's forces, all swirling around a single, ethereal voice. A woman's. One who always ended with those exact words.
He let out a breath and scanned the camp. The fire burned low but steadily, casting long shadows against the strange, moonless landscape. A short distance away, perched on a low hill, sat Fenric—alert, twitching, feral even at rest. His wild eyes snapped toward Lucy as he stirred, but quickly softened with recognition.
