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The shadow of my father smiled. “Wise, far wiser than you have ever been.”
“Why am I dreaming about the day after the battle of Hovuungard?”
The guards behind him shimmered and disappeared. The darkness on the walls nearest us grew thicker, waiting patiently to pounce. He ignored them and pointed toward the horizon.
“A thousand plus worlds, Samkiel, and I have seen them all. You are now at the center. Your name is a war song now. The World Ender, they call you, but you are so much more than that.”
I shifted and stepped away from him. “I am a king built of fear, not love or respect. You made sure of that.”
“I helped you.”
I scoffed. “I believed that at first, but Mother died, and you grew distant and cold. You pushed too hard, but I bent, and I killed. Now my dreams consist of nothing but battles, death, and chaos.”
“And of her.”
The darkness grew closer.
“Why do you haunt me now, King of Gods?”
“We have sent warning signs. You have not listened.”
My brows knitted together, and I faced the shadow of my father fully. The darkness grew an inch closer.
“About her? Dianna?”
He shook his head. “It’s not enough. Not to stop her.”
My heart thudded in my chest. “Dianna?”
“She is too strong now, too powerful. She will eat worlds and burn through them, and you alone are not enough.”
I concentrated, trying to control the dream, my jaw clenching with the effort. The memory turned to premonition, and the darkness crept closer. Shadowy tendrils shaped like hands crept higher, closer to Unir, closer to me, reaching and grabbing, but none of us moved. We couldn’t.
“What you have? What you are, it’s not enough. Not alone.”
“What are you—”
His arm shot out, a blade made of gold ramming through my midsection. Pain, blistering and hot, raced across every part of me. I looked up at my father. His face changed, but a single flash of familiarity flickered through my subconscious as he yanked the blade back.
“You are alone. You will die alone.”
I grasped at my stomach, silver blood pooling and leaking past my fingers. My back bent, and a bright silver light erupted from my chest, my eyes, and my very soul. It shot up and hit the atmosphere. The sky cracked and burst, an ancient beast clawing toward the open gate. I felt them, heard their song of damnation, and the promises of death mixed with the screams of those begging to be saved. Beneath it all, a laugh, dark, feminine, and purely lethal.
My body bent, every bit of energy drained from me, and my skin stained with my own blood.
“You are not my father,” I croaked. The shimmering image of my father knelt before me.
“I am not.”
The darkness finally reached me, but it was too late. I was already gone. I felt the pull of Asteraoth and knew death would be a kindness to me but not to the world left behind. Hands wrapped around me, pulling me down, down, down. The shimmering face of my father just watched and grinned.
I took a last look at the world around me as gates of swirling light opened. Shadowed forms stepped out dressed in armor, thick and sharp. Weapons and beasts snarled at their heels while others shot into the sky. I wanted to stay and help. I had to for my family, friends, and the world, but it was too late, and the void smothered me. It was such a strange feeling to be covered in darkness but warm at the same time.
“Stay with me.”
* * *
My body jerked, forcibly waking me from my nightmare. I lifted my head from the desk and brushed away a piece of paper stuck to my face. When had I fallen asleep? I had left the party the first chance I got, excusing myself and coming upstairs.
