Back in Morgäven?
"Ziyka." The voice sliced through the fog. Low. Achingly familiar.
My heart lurched.
"Ziyka."
Wolfe.
It was him.
I spun toward the sound, and the mist yielded, parting just enough to reveal a dark figure in the distance. A man. Tall, broad-shouldered, motionless.
It had to be Wolfe. He’d found some way to come to me.
Relief flooded me so fast it hurt.
"I'm here," I called out, but my voice was swallowed by the gray.
I stumbled forward. The closer I drew, the clearer he became.
"Ziyka." The voice changed.
Something was wrong. It was still deep, still male, but stripped of all warmth. Cold as winter stone.
The mist tore away in a violent rush.
And my heart stopped beating when I saw that it wasn’t Wolfe standing there.
It was Thayden.
He hovered before me, lips curved in a devious smile. Then his hand struck out like a viper.
I seemed to move to him faster, and his fingers clamped around my throat, lifting me from the nothingness.
"Did you think you could escape me?" he hissed.
I clawed at his grip, searching desperately for magic that wasn't there. No power thrummed beneath my skin. Only weakness.
Air slipped out of my mouth in tattered gasps as I tried to scream Wolfe's name.
Thayden's fingers tightened like a vise, and the gray realm bled to black at the edges of my vision.
"Mine," he snarled.
He reached into my chest and ripped out my heart, then crushed it right before my eyes.
I woke gasping, a scream trapped in my throat.
Mother's hands steadied my shoulders. "Elariya. It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s just me.”
It was only when I heard her voice that the nightmare's grip slowly loosened. Then I saw her face looming before me, but my eyes still darted frantically around the room, searching forshadows that might hide Thayden and the gray mist that might swallow me whole.
Morning light filtered through the curtains.
Morning.
The familiar weight of dread settled back into my chest as I remembered what the morning would bring.
