“I could’ve sworn that was Oliver,” Eve Emery said to herself. “But how’s that possible? And who was he talking to?”

  She shook her head.

  “No. It was a dream.”

  Eve Emery stood with the horses in her family’s barn. They were all of them gorgeous beyond relief. She stood amidst the hay filling up Bella’s stall. A medium-sized mare, she stood powerfully built, giving off the unconcerned attitude so ingrained in animals.

  Standing in the corner, Eve watched the younger version of herself squatting just behind the animal, wiping her eyes and sniffling. She and her mother had gotten into one of their spats. The aftermath of that interaction brought her here, to the animals, where she could simply exist without worry.

  If she was correct, this was only a few minutes before her father would come out to find her. How did she know that? Well, because she’d lived this before. This was a memory. One of many she’d been forced to endure. They always came in such vivid detail.

  The horse, the hay, the raw emotions of youth coursing through the younger version of herself, all of those things felt real, tangible, as if this were actually happening now. Now, and not a recollection of something from more than twenty years ago.

  However, there were inconsistencies.

  Just beyond the stall door, the stable was incomplete. Gaps in the building where large pieces of the wall were missing. However, when she looked at it, they filled themselves in from how she remembered it as a child. The missing parts of reality filling in like a hand regrowing its fingers.

  Right on cue, her father came walking into the stable, a small bucket hanging from his right hand. Long green leaves sprouting from the carrot tops escaped the rim of the bucket, the vegetables still covered in water droplets from the rinsing.

  “Evie,” Eve said at the exact same time the memory of her father said her name. “Evie, you can come out. I promise you’re not in trouble.”

  Eve looked down at the younger her, a solemn expression covering both faces. “I’m going to get up,” Eve narrated, glancing back outside the stall door.

  On cue, the younger her got to her feet, vigorously wiping at her eyes. “I don’t want him to see I’ve been crying,” Eve continued narrating. “Stupid, since that’s probably the reason he came here, searching for me.”

  “Dad?” the younger her said softly.

  “You with Bella again?” her dad asked gently.

  “Mm-hmm.”

  Her father walked the rest of the way, the ground disappearing under his every step, a gap perfectly matching his shoe size. The void within those gaps seemed eternal, imposing, and ancient. Instinctively, Eve pulled her eyes away from it—older Eve, of course, as the younger one existed only in the memory, seeing everything as it had happened that day.

  “Ah, Bella, old girl,” her father said, pulling out one of the carrots from the bucket.

  “She bites his hand,” Eve noted a second before it happened.

  Despite herself, the younger version of her laughs at the sight. A weak and pitiful sound, a perfect match for the look on her face.

  Abruptly, the roof disintegrated, breaking into smaller pieces that all flew upward where they vanished into the swirling, dark sky above. She understood that her mind was no longer focused on getting the setting correct; the conversation and the emotional anchors in the dream were all that mattered.

  “It’s exactly the same as the other times,” Eve commented.

  “You’re laughing?” her father asked with a smile of his own. “That’s good.”

  “Mom would find it disrespectful,” Evie said with a petulance Eve cringed at, never mind the fact that it was true.

  “Evie,” her father said tiredly.

  “He’s going to make an excuse,” Eve said before he spoke.

  He sighed, setting the bucket on the floor just outside the stall, and stroking Bella’s long nose. Evie started with Bella’s side, the animal taking pleasure in both their affections, though she sniffed for another carrot.

  “Your mother only wants the best for you,” he said. “I know you know that. She didn’t have the opportunities you do. She just wants you to take advantage of them. Understand?”

  Eve mouthed her younger self’s response, shaking her head at the accuracy.

  “But it’s not fair. Everyone was saying what they really wanted to do. They said all kinds of things. Some of them said they wanted to be a lion tamer, or a-a welder, because that’s what his father was. Everyone said what they really wanted to be. And I did, too.”

  “A farmhand?” her father asked with a smile.

  Eve had been tortured with these vivid recollections the entire time she’d been sleeping, most of them having to do with her father. But each time she saw his face, saw that smile, the pain of his death hit that much harder.

  Dead for five years now, with the collapse and decay of technology, she’d had only photographs to remind her of him and his smile. But photos didn’t even come close to the real thing. His warmth, the care that framed the lines of his mouth when he looked at her.

  “I love the farm!” Evie said firmly. “Bella—all the animals! I can just stay here, with you. I already know a lot, I learn every day, watching everyone work. The farm is ours. What’s so wrong with wanting to work on our land?”

  “Ah, Evie, you don’t understand.” Hearing his voice through an adult lens, Eve was surprised at the weariness that clung to each word. “You never know what might happen in the future. Studying medicine might benefit you.”

  “Like Ava?” Evie asked, that petulant look still fixed to her face.

  “Yes, like Ava. Think of it this way. If you took up medicine, you could help the animals in a different way. Maybe even the workers. You’d be studying modern medicine as well as herbology, who knows what the world would need?”

  Eve shook her head, the weight of her father’s words settling on her. He’d been a survivalist, always thinking about what might happen one day. But knowing just how accurate his words had been years before society’s collapse was chilling.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “You know, you could...” he froze, his mouth half-open, whatever word he’d been about to say frozen on his tongue.

  “No,” Eve sighed, straining for control.

  The bucket full of carrots multiplied, from one to ten, from ten to fifty, and from fifty to a hundred, before all the buckets vanished completely. Bella paused as well, her tail stopping mid-flick. She glitched, sections of her body disintegrating and floating upward to that sky in small pieces just like the roof.

  “By the Seam,” Eve swore, trying to keep the memory intact.

  It wasn’t easy. Her mind translated the sensation to her grasping soaking wet paper from all four corners, all while being careful not to rip the thing in half.

  Unfortunately, this dream was already far too fragile to withstand her tampering. That impossible darkness above reclaimed parts of her father’s face, temporarily leaving him without a nose, half a mouth, and one eye.

  She was too inexperienced with this power.

  Soon, the entire stable was gone, and she found herself standing in the middle of a dark plain, pockets of shimmering light spreading all around her and going up in a spiral where it met the dark sky, swirling with gray.

  “Again,” she said, balling her hands into fists. “I’m getting really tired of this.”

  At the very least, there were still no creatures standing around or whispering words for her to say. That had been her biggest worry when she’d first fallen asleep, what felt like ages ago. That she was Dreaming.

  But there were no demons, she heard no voice telling her to say words, hinting that they wanted to take over her body. That was a win. That was how she avoided the Dreamhold. And no matter what, she would.

  She couldn’t leave John alone. Leo was gone. Oliver was in the hold...

  “No,” she whispered. “I saw him. I know I saw him in the room earlier.”

  The shimmers around her started rearranging themselves, Oliver’s and Leo’s faces appearing just behind all the color. Their voices came at her all at once, making it impossible to hear what they were saying.

  One of the shimmers started growing bigger than the rest, its setting already starting to take form around her. The floor of their apartment. The walls. The food they’d eaten in this memory.

  “No!” she shouted to the image, refusing to give any of it any substance. “I’m done! I’m going back!”

  The table formed, the chairs the four of them sat on—the memory version of herself, John, Leo, and Oliver—appearing with it.

  “I. Said. No.”

  Up until this very moment, she’d ignored the presence beyond the shimmers, the presence in the dark ground beneath her feet. But she was far from afraid of it. She didn’t know what it was, not really, and she’d been taught not to fear things she didn’t understand. That only gave it power over you.

  “I’m done! I’m waking up now!”

  She wrestled against that presence, against the force that linked her to those shimmers like gravity anchored humans to the earth. It was strong, but through sheer will and determination to see her son, see her husband, she pulled away.

  Gravity or not, anchor or not, she refused to be kept here, lost in more of her memories while the mystery of her son awaited her tackling. After a spell, she slowly blinked open her eyes to one of the hospital rooms, the same one as before.

  Oliver wasn’t there. Neither was the other one he’d been speaking to. Did I really imagine it? She rubbed her forefinger and thumb against her temples, taking in a deep breath. Her eyes burned with the sting of fatigue.

  Why did they bring me to a hospital room?

  She’d just slept, but she felt even more tired. That was one of the worst things, waking up from sleep with a deeper fatigue than when you’d first closed your eyes. Though she supposed it was better than her usual insomnia.

  Both were pitiful options, but those were the choices she’d been born with; no sense in crying and complaining about something you couldn’t change. One of the few lessons she’d taken from her mother.

  “How fortunate am I?” someone asked.

  She lifted her head, finding the man who stood just by the door. He was decked out in a black suit striped with thin bands of silver. A purple Ark Tie embroidered with a slight silver finishing rested at the base of his throat.

  But what really got her was the fragrant scent coming from his salt-and-peppered hair that she hadn’t smelled for years, not since the world’s collapse had ended the shampoo industry. The man looked as though he’d stepped out of the time before the war.

  “I’m sorry?” she asked.

  “I heard reports you’d slipped into a coma,” the man said, his voice deep and rich. “Honestly, I was a bit worried I wouldn’t be able to pass it over. Though I suppose in that case, your husband would’ve been called on.”

  “Who are you?” she asked, not recognizing the man at all. Recently arrived, perhaps?

  “Forgive my manners, dear,” he said smoothly. “I was simply overcome with joy. I am the Leviath,” he added, bowing his head in greeting.

  “The what?” she asked briskly. “Where’s Ava? Or any of the others? I want to know why I’m in the hospital.”

  The man only stared at her with a smile. She wanted to squirm under that gaze, but she kept herself firm, her head held high. “What?” she asked, some of her annoyance slipping into her tone.

  “Again, I ask that you forgive my manners. You look so much like him. In a more feminine way, of course. Your father, I mean.”

  “What do you want?” she asked more flatly.

  “Though it seems you’ve inherited your mother’s temperament,” he said, his face sour. The expression seemed almost exaggerated, as if he were trying his best to make a sour expression. He shook his head, his face finding its smile again. “To deliver a letter.”

  “A letter?”

  “It was intended for your father, but imagine my surprise, arriving to the news of his death. I wonder why we weren’t informed. Nonetheless, for protocol’s sake, I will recognize that... ambitious, disdainful, failure you call a mother, as the temporary Head.”

  He walked to the bed, removing an envelope from inside his blazer. The rings on his fingers glowed a deep purple. This was the first person she’d interacted with who seemed to be materialistic after the collapse. Most people had come to terms with the insignificance of their appearance.

  “That is why I am not meeting her without her consent.”

  He held the envelope out, patiently waiting for her to take it. But she didn’t. Instead, she asked, “What is this?”

  “A letter, from your uncle, your family’s Sin.”

  Again, that unsettling stare. She took the envelope, hoping it would make him walk away from her.

  “I ask that you give her that, and tell her I will be watching the camp. Tell her I am not happy with the state of things. Not by a long shot. Especially with that sorry excuse for a Dreamhold. I shudder to think of the wasted potential energy. I’ll have to fix that first, hunt them down before I deal with her.”

  She swallowed at the casual way threats of violence fell off his lips. Though his words confused her. Hunt? Potential energy? The sorry excuse for a Dreamhold?

  “No doubt, she’ll be familiar with how the Sins conduct their business. Patience is a virtue, one I’m particularly fond of keeping. I didn’t know the state Oceania was in, so I didn’t bring hunters with me. I’ll have to remedy that, but that should give you more than enough time to fix your mistakes. I hope—”

  He paused, sniffing the air. His face curdled, an ugly, monstrous expression spreading over his features. She thought the leathery skin on his face showed shifting muscle hiding beneath, but in the next second, it was gone. Something she attributed to her fatigue.

  “Theurgy,” he sneered. “I can smell it. To think they’d approach you so openly. She really has made a mess of things. No matter, I’ll hunt them down as well. It’s always a pleasure seeing one of the Great Families. Until we meet again.”

  The man lowered his head in respect and headed for the door. Eve wanted to stop him, to ask him something to make some sort of sense of what he’d just said, but all she did was stare at his back. Stare as he opened the door, stepped out into the hallway, and shut it quietly behind him.

  She looked down at the envelope he’d given her. The flap was sealed with red wax, an icon depicting a single feather standing like a sheathed quill, with what she thought represented blood dripping down its side.

  “Who in the Black End was that?” she asked the quiet room.