Page 59 of Realm of Dreams & Shadows

“The garden at Whitehall?” Tia points to a huge splotch of red.

“A known breach point, and very active. The blue ones are potential doorways.”

I glance over the map. “There’s so much red and blue this map’s almost patriotic.”

“Can’t argue with that. St. Augustine’s full of thin spots. New Orleans comes close.”

I gesture at the newspaper clippings tacked to his wall—and the pile in a basket on the floor. “And these?”

“Incidents. When mares have crossed over and killed—or taken victims back through the veil.”

A chill runs through me as I read about a man who died in his sleep after months of nightmares. “A mare killed him,” I whisper. “Like my mom.”

“Mares usually feed in dreams,” Chase says. “They steal life force. Most stop before death. Some don’t.”

“They take too much,” I finish.

He nods. “Stealing a pinch won’t hurt the human,” Chase says. “But mares aren’t known for self-control. Sometimes it’s hunger. Sometimes it’s the thrill.”

“They’re like humans,” Tia murmurs.

He nods. “The worst of them cross realms. The hunt excites them.”

“Like Vexarin,” I say. “And Hunters kill mares.”

“I hunt what’s necessary,” he says, his eyes on the map, his voice low. “It’s my duty.”

I start to ask how he got saddled with that duty, but Tia speaks first. “Hunter weapons?” she asks with a nod to a glass-topped display case with antique knives and ancient guns.

“Human. I find them fascinating. Thus, the collection.”

Tia catches my eye, then shrugs. “So this Vex critter,” she continues, “it wants to take Cora to the king?”

Chase stiffens. “Yes. To Adric.”

“The Nightmare King,” I whisper, the memory of Adric’s kiss racing through me.

“He rules four of the five realms now.”

“Five?” Tia blurts. “I thought there were just two. Us and the nightmare.”

“Five,” he repeats, holding out his hand for mine. I comply, relishing that familiar little zing of contact.

“The Realm of the Real,” he says. “Ours. The Nightmare Realm—you know that one,” he says to me. “The Realm of the Others—think dark fairy tale-type denizens. That’s Whistler’s homeland. Then there’s the Realm of the Unseen—where magic grows.” His gaze slides to Tia, who straightens as if she’d just been called on in class. “Your bloodline traces from there.”

“Oh,” she says softly as Chase continues. “Finally, there’s the Realm of Retribution—think of it as Tartarus. A prison for those in any of the dream realms who goes bad.”

“Can humans end up there?” Tia asks. “Like, if someone dragged us in?”

“You can pass through it. You cannot be imprisoned in it.” His tone is matter-of-fact, as if this is simply physics. “Retribution holds dream-realm citizens who have violated dream-realm law. A human is a visitor in all but the Real — the same rules that govern residents don’t apply. If you died in Retribution, you would go to your own afterlife, same as dying anywhere else.”

Tia exhales. “Okay. That’s... actually reassuring.”

“Don’t be too reassured,” he says. “It’s still a place you don’t want to go.”

He looks between me and Tia. “The dream world is not the afterlife. It’s not where your soul goes upon death. Die while in one of the five realms, and you will go to the true afterlife—whether that’s heaven, hell, or something else. The afterlife is the next step in your soul’s journey. But the five realms? They all encompass life.”

“So when people say ‘the dream realm,’” I say slowly, “they mean all four of them. Everything that isn’t the Real.”