Page 43 of Realm of Dreams & Shadows

She’d figured out a way to stay grounded—I’m certain of it. To stop this horrible, inevitable tumble into another world. A terrifying world.

She’d found an answer, but it didn’t matter. That was the night she died so horribly, writhing and crying out.

The mares, I’m sure. The nightmare creatures had finally killed her in the dreamscape, and her heart had given out.

Tears stream down my cheeks as I shove the journal back in my box, hoping I’ll find some real answers at Whitehall. I’m antsy about going, especially after both the mysterious text and Chase’s warning. And my uncle’s. Maybe I should listen to them. Maybe I should stay away. And, yeah, I probably should.

But I need more answers, and right now, Whitehall is the only lead I have.

With that decision locked in, I check the clock and confirm that I have time for a nap before I need to start getting ready. I down a caffeine pill so I don’t go too deep, pop in my headphones, then cue up my nap app—the one that only has the listener drifting to restorative wavelengths without ever diving fully into sleep. Then I settle back against my pillow, ready for a shallow, dream-free, power nap.

I breathe in, out. In, out. In…

Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howls.

A wolf?

A chill runs through me, and I try to claw my way back to hover at the edge of consciousness.

It’s not working.

Terror batters me, and I scream at myself not to sleep. To come back. To yank out my headphones and wake the fuck up.

But it’s too late. Exhaustion squeezes its bony hands around me, then tugs me deeper and deeper into slumber, that damn frequency no match against my exhaustion as I go down, down, down…

This time, I don’t dream of beaches or monsters or golden-eyed warriors. Instead, I dream of a throne room with stained-glass windows that paint the stone floor in fractured color.

Adric is there—the king with silver eyes and a scarred left cheek. But the king is not on his throne. Instead, he’s standing at one of the tall windows, both hands pressed flat against the stained glass, his forehead nearly touching it. I can’t see his eyes, but grief seems to course through his body, devastation rolling off him like waves so strong I can almost feel them pulse through me.

I start to take a step forward, but I check myself. He hasn’t noticed me, and this isn’t a moment I can stand to interrupt. So I don’t move. I hardly breathe. Because something is happening outside that window, and whatever it is has stripped this man bare.

Through the stained glass, I can just make out a shape in the burnt-orange sky—a dragon, but nothing like the sleek, powerful creatures I’ve seen in my other dreams. This one is enormous but gaunt, its wings laboring with each beat, the membrane between the bones so thin that the light of the five moons passes through it. It flies low and slow, listing slightly, like a candle flame about to be extinguished.

Adric’s hand curls against the glass. Not into a fist—more like he’s grasping. Trying to hold on to something that’s already gone.

“Soren,” he whispers in a voice heavy with pain.

The dragon turns, heading for the far horizon where the dunes blur into nothing, and I understand with a sudden, gut-deep certainty what I’m watching. This creature isn’t coming back. It’s on its final journey.

It’s going somewhere to die.

Adric stands perfectly still as the dragon shrinks against the sky. From where I stand, I can see the tension in his jaw. The way his spine goes rigid.

Every inch of him screams that he will not break. But I can see the truth in the reflection of his eyes.

Then the dragon disappears below the dunes, and Adric exhales—one long, ragged breath in a private moment of weakness.

That’s when he turns and sees me.

The shift is so fast it’s almost violent. His shoulders straighten. His chin lifts, and his silver eyes go from raw to warm in the space of a heartbeat, as if I’d imagined everything I just saw.

A smile touches his lips. “My love, you keep finding me.” There’s no hint of the pain I’ve witnessed. He’s pushed it all down too far for me to see. “It’s as if you cannot keep away. Nor would I want you to.”

The air between us seems to shimmer, and I can feel my pulse hammering in places that have no business responding to a dream.

He moves toward me with deliberate grace, his hand, palm up, inviting.

“My Bride,” he murmurs, his voice sliding over my skin like silk.