Rhea Valeska awoke with a start, the sigil on her wrist glowing faintly.
She had dreamed of bones. Of crossroads. Of laughter that was not cruel, but warning.
She turned to the nightstand beside her bed in the guest wing of Crescent Moon and picked up her pen.
One word wrote itself before she could stop it.
Hecate.
Down the hall, Ainsley stirred in her sleep, her dreams crowded with wolves made of mist and a flickering figure walking a forked path.
She saw two shadows watching her, one with a silver crown, the other with a bone mask. She didn't scream. She only whispered:
"She's choosing sides."
She saw a dark shadow looming over everything, war torn fields full of the fallen, drenched in blood, clutching useless weapons. Then something shook the earth and everything went quiet. The shadow receded.
She woke with a start. This dream was so cryptic. Was it the future? Was it something she could prevent? Ainsley didn't know.
