I drifted through familiar consciousnesses, starting with the mountain owl from before, a fox, then the hawk who was settling into its roost for the night. I was glad I wasn't connecting to anyone new.
No new connections meant less drain on my energy.
The world was peaceful, the night creatures going about their business without any unusual disturbances. I moved along the familiar paths, hopping from one to another and following their ordinary activity. There were no amassing forces in the mountains, no Shedun armies preparing to attack, no converts skulking through shadows with weapons drawn, just the quiet pulse of life doing what life did. Surviving.
And yet, something tugged at me, a current that was pulling me out of the animal consciousnesses and tugging me somewhere else.
Suddenly, I was inside the Citadel, and it was chaos.
The halls were filled with smoke, and the air was thick with the smell of blood. Bodies lay crumpled against walls, some in cadet uniforms, others in the garb of instructors and support staff. Blood pooled on the stone floors.
No. Not this again.
I tried to pull back, to wrench myself out of the vision, but the dream held me fast. I was floating through the corridors without willing it, my perspective shifting like the smoke.
The common room of our apartment. Shattered furniture. Codric slumped against the wall, his chest still, his eyes staring at nothing. Shovia crumpled beside him, her knife still clutched in her hand. Morek was in the doorway, as if he'd been trying to reach them when he fell.
No. No, no, no.
The bedroom. Our bedroom. The window broken, curtains stirring in the wind, the smell of ash and copper.
Alar!
He lay on the floor beside the bed, his blue eyes open, his hand reaching toward where I would have been sleeping. Blood soaked his shirt, spreading in a dark pool beneath him.
I ran to him, fell to my knees beside him, but my hands passed through him like smoke. I couldn't help him.
"Kailin." His voice was a whisper, fading. "Some fates... can't be changed."
The same words. The same terrible, final words he'd spoken in my last nightmare.
I screamed, or tried to, but no sound came out. I was suffocating.
Wake up. I had to wake up.
I forced my awareness inward, away from the vision, away from Alar's still body. It was like swimming against a riptide, every inch of progress requiring tremendous effort. The dream didn't want to let go of me.
But I pulled stronger, clawing my way toward consciousness, toward the reality that was nothing like the nightmare.
And then I was awake. I won, I got free, but the price was a terrible headache.
Sharp pain lanced through my skull, centered behind my eyes. I gasped, my free hand flying to my temple as if I could press the agony back inside. For a long moment, I couldn't do anything but lie there, breathing through the pain, waiting for the worst of it to pass.
Beside me, Alar slept peacefully.
His breathing was deep and even, his face relaxed in a way I rarely saw when he was awake. His arm was still around me, his body warm, solid, alive.
Alive. He was alive.
I wanted to wake him and tell him about the nightmare, let him hold me until the images faded, but I couldn't tell him that I'd seen him die.
Again.
He needed the rest, and he so rarely got any. The dark circles under his eyes had grown deeper over the past few days, and it was because of me.
I lay still, controlling my breathing, so he wouldn't wake.
The headache pulsed with every heartbeat. The price of forcing myself awake in the middle of a vision.
