“Tell me again, please.”

The dream always started this way. A woman’s voice, soft and soothing, spinning a story I’ve heard before but don’t remember, about balance and the creation of the Four Dominions.

About the gods and their sacrifice to protect us—that we must keep the balance.

“You’ve heard it a thousand times, my love,” she chided. “To bed with you.”

“But I’m not tired!” And as the dream always goes, with a deep breath, she sighed.

There was a press of something then, lips to my hair, but almost ghostlike. Not enough to really feel.

I’m a child, pulled into her lap by strong hands, the caress of silken fabric on my skin. “Tomorrow is a big day, love. You need your rest.”

“Can I at least have a song?”

A chuckle from over my shoulder as I settled in.

“All right, my love. A song. And then to sleep.”

Her hands spun through the locks of my hair, fingertips against my scalp to soothe me.

And then she began to sing.

“Born of passion and the silencing queen,

A light shall rise where none have been.

Through her, the dawn will banish night,

If the dragon’s heart grants her might.”

I could feel her smile into my hair. My sleeping self was desperate to see it. . . to lay eyes on her just once. To remember.

“Should the hollow one consume her power,

Darkness will reign in the final hour.

Let the serpent’s heir stand by her side

And storms shall rage and kingdoms die.”

The last note slowly died out like the final embers in the fireplace. The song was a warning, a prophecy.

And then the dream ended, like it always did, leaving me only with the vision of a hand I swore I almost recognized still clasped in mine.