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Still, Breena has been my student for nearly five centuries now, and I will not leave her to the wolves. I am considering writing to Atlas. He’s new to the Council, and he’s always liked Breena, ever since I introduced them in Arendryl.

Perhaps he will be able to protect her where I cannot.

Skye had barely closed his eyes when he found himself pulled into the dream.

A snow-veiled forest surrounded him on all sides, quiet save for the howling gust of wind that rattled the branches, shaking loose a rain of ice and sleet.

His breath hung in the air, and his boots crunched as he turned in a circle. Thankfully, he was dressed for the cold in heavy, fur-lined wool, a long cloak, and—

Wait.

Skye turned again, taking in the long, even rows of trees, the half-buried basket in the middle of the aisle, the snow-covered barn just visible through the grove. This wasn’t a forest, he realized. It was an orchard. Full of apple, sweetpear, and even a few sickly lemon trees that Sarina had always insisted would eventually take root and grow.

Looking to the west, he smiled when he saw smoke curling above the trees. Harbor Manor. He was back at Harbor Manor. This time, he really was dreaming of home.

Something tugged at him—that same thread from the ballroom—and he began to move.Walking, then running as the pull became stronger.

The rows of trees began to stretch and repeat.

The world turned on its side—twisting and whirling and bending reality in the way that only dreams could. He grabbed at branches, lunging from trunk to trunk.

Abruptly, the world righted itself, and he fell to the ground with a thud and a groan. Rolling, he was back on his feet again, following the tug of that thread once more.

He ran and ran for what could’ve been minutes or hours, reaching for his aether only to find it faraway and sluggish. Sleeping.

Panting, he tried to go faster. Towards that thread and the girl he knew would be on the other end.

The trees flew by, throwing down more snow and ice. And when the lanes began to twist, circling back around, in and over in ways that didn’t make sense, he imagined that thread. Saw it in his mind’s eye and reached for it. Reeled it in before giving a viciousyank.

The world blurred and then snapped into focus as he hit something solid.

Or rather, someone. A very startled human woman that gave a sharp cry as they both went tumbling down the hill in a tangle of limbs and into a bank of freshly fallen snow.

For a few, breathless moments, all Skye could do was stare at the woman that had landed on top of him. She was pink-cheeked and bright-eyed, bundled against the cold in white and blue wool. She’d lost her hat halfway up the hill, and her golden hair spilled around her shoulders, already damp from the snow.

Alive. Taly was alive and whole and… staring at him like she wanted to hit him.

He should probably say something. Not just to escape the beating he knew was coming, but to get as much information as possible before one of them woke up.

Questions raced through his mind, blurring together, each little more than a half-formed thought.

Where are you?

Are you safe?

How are you here?

How did you know about the tunnels?

Why did you leave?

Why haven’t you come back?

They all seemed critical, all a good place to start.

She saved him the trouble of having to decide.

“What fresh hell did you wander in from this time?” she asked, placing a hand on each of his cheeks. He felt the faint tickle of aether, just at the edge of his senses—most likely a part of whatever spell she was using to pull him into this shared dream.