ONE PEACEFUL NIGHT, Seris tossed and turned in her sleep. The moonlight was spilling across the bed. Sweat clung to her forehead as her breathing quickened. Her hand was tightening its grip on Cassian’s hand.
Then she saw darkness.
And in the darkness, a child’s laughter echoed in light and innocent sound.
Seris blinked and found herself standing in a lush green meadow bathed in golden sunlight. She was a child again, nine, or maybe ten years old—her tiny hands clutching the hands of a man and a woman.
Her parents.
Her father had broad shoulders, silver eyes like hers, and there was a scar on her jaw. Her mother was smiling, her long hair braided with tiny flowers, and her eyes were kind but sharp—witch eyes.
Suddenly—
“Run, Seris!” her mother’s voice screamed.
The meadow tur
