The word cracks through the battlefield like thunder, and the others take it up. “Harbinger.”
I shake my head.
“Harbinger.”
My feet stumble over the sharp rock.
“Harbinger.”
I need to wake up.
“No,” I whisper. “I don’t even know what that means, and frankly, it sounds like a lot of responsibility I did not sign up for.”
The familiar man’s feet touch the ground, and he draws closer to me, pulled by an invisible force.
“You ended us,” he accuses.
“I did no such thing,” I reply. “I would remember that. I’m chaotic, not forgetful.”
His head tilts. “You will.”
Awesome. I so love veiled threats and accusations for the future.
The sky splits overhead. A jagged tear rips through the clouds, and a vast shadow moves behind it. Enormous. Ancient. Watching. Judging.
The pressure of it slams into me, stealing my breath in a crushing, suffocating force like the weight of an ocean pressing down on my lungs.
The battlefield shifts again, banners bursting into flames while the screaming ensues from all sides.
“You were not meant to wake.”
The voice is deep, all-encompassing, much like the All Knowing, but more ominous.
My heart stutters. “But I did.”
The man in front of me reaches out. His fingers brush my wrist, and the world shatters.
I wake with a gasp,bolting upright so fast my head spins. For a moment, I don’t know where I am. The battlefield lingers behind my eyes, the smell of ash still clinging to the back of my throat, the echo of that voice curling through my skull like smoke.
I fist my hands to stop them from shaking.
“Get a grip, Daphne,” I mutter. “It was a dream. A very dramatic, slightly traumatizing dream, but still. Not real.” Except it felt real. Too real. The kind of real that settles into your bones and refuses to leave. The kind that whispers that it’s not over and has you looking over your shoulder.
I swing my legs off the bed and pace around the room because standing still feels like a terrible idea right now.
“What’s wrong?” Nash growls. “It’s still the middle of the night. Come back to bed.”
“Okay,” I say, dragging a hand through my tangled hair. “Options. We ignore it and pretend everything is fine—a classic strategy. Or we investigate, which historically leads to more chaos, but also answers.”
“Investigate?” he asks.
I pause and point at him. “That’s right. We’re going to investigate.” I strut toward the wall, hoping it’s going to let me out without argument.
“Um, Daphne?” Nash calls out.
“Yes?”
“While I’m excited about the thought of you conducting anything while naked, you might want to get dressed before investigating some unknown thing.”
