MORIA
It starts with the woman again.
It always does.
This dream is clearer than the last one I had the day Axe and Tristen brought me to this world.
The dark table top to my left, the open window with it's billowy curtains to my right, that sweet buttery smell everywhere.
It is a cabin of sorts, a cabin with a roof held up by wooden beams.
I can make out the shapes on her dress, the way it floats and flows around her as she moves, her hair, blood red slipping over her shoulders and down her back in uncontrollable waves and making the breath catch in my throat.
She's humming to herself just like she always does.
And again the sound of her breaks my heart.
I'm looking up at her somehow.
That's what it feels like.
Lying on my back and looking up at this tilted, hazy world with the
