A faint smile curved his mouth. “You already know my name, though your tongue may not shape it. I am the Keeper of Dreams, and this …” He gestured around us. “… is my threshold.”
“The Dreamkeeper,” I breathed.
He inclined his head. “You wear the echo of something ancient, mortal one. The Dreamstone remembers you.”
“I don’t understand. It—it reacted to me, but I didn’t do anything—”
“You werechosenbefore you were born,” he said gently. “Its song found you in your mother’s womb, when the Veil was still whole.”
My breath caught. “So all of this—what’s happening to me—was planned?”
“Not planned. Foreseen.”
Behind him, the light shifted, and two figures appeared faintly through the haze—Kael and Kaelith, frozen mid-stride, their swords raised. The Dreamkeeper’s gaze turned toward Kaelith’s motionless form.
“The frost-heir’s heart stirs in ways his father never feared enough.”
He moved closer to Kaelith, his expression unreadable. “If he wishes to keep you, he must learn to let you go.”
“What does that mean?” I demanded.
The Dreamkeeper looked at me again, eyes glimmering like moonlit water. “The Dreamstone’s awakening will not stop at Winter. When itspulse reaches the Veil, every Court will feel it. And every heart that clings will break.”
A shiver coursed through me. “Can it be stopped?”
His form flickered. “Perhaps. But not by denial.” He raised one translucent hand, and the world seemed to tilt. “Wake.”
The silver light shattered. Sound rushed back—wind, Fenrir’s growl, Kael’s curse, Kaelith’s voice calling my name. I staggered, nearly falling. Kaelith caught me by the shoulders, his touch steady and cold.
“Katria! Look at me.”
I blinked hard, the forest swimming back into focus. The trees were normal again, dark and heavy with snow. The aurora was crimson once more.
Kael stared at me, eyes narrowed. “What just happened?”
“I—I don’t know,” I stammered. “There was someone here. The Dreamkeeper.”
Kaelith’s grip on my shoulders tightened slightly. “You saw him?”
I nodded. “He said something about the Dreamstone … and about you.”
Kaelith went still. “What about me?”
“He said …” My throat tightened. “If you wish to keep me, you must learn to let me go.”
For a heartbeat, no one spoke. Then Kael gave a low whistle. “Well,” he said, sheathing his sword, “that sounds inconvenient.”
Kaelith shot him a look sharp enough to silence the snow itself. “We’re leaving.”
“Where?” Kael asked lightly. “You’re clearly in no state to lead.”
Kaelith turned away, his jaw tight. “Anywhere that Dream doesn’t reach.”
But even as he said it, I saw the truth in his eyes—he knew nowhere in the realm was safe anymore.
And somewhere deep in the forest, unseen, the Frostfather stirred.
Chapter thirty-three
