Chapter 11
It’s hard to rest with an ogre grunting and swearing outside my window.
He managed to clear a little place for himself on top of the wall. He sits there, looking down at the thorn-covered courtyard as he rips thorn branch after thorn branch off himself.
It must be pretty intimidating to see the courtyard for the first time. For one thing, it’s covered in layers of deadly brambles. There’s not an inch of space that’s open for someone to walk through without getting covered in thorns. For another, there are dead bodies in various stages of decay stuck among the branches.
“Be smart,” I call out to him. “Go away while you still can.”
He can’t hear me. I’m nothing but a ghost to those in the Waking. My tower is in the twilight border between the Dreaming and the Waking. But I do
