Lyria dreamt of the Sacred Void, of inky blackness and nothing swirling about her. The dream was exactly like no dream at all, just a silent, pitch dark, timeless existence. But Lyria knew, when she woke, that what she was remembering was something, that even though it was indistinguishable from mere unconsciousness, it had been more.
She awoke with a start, momentarily confused. She wasn’t in her bed back home at Winding Road, and as she glanced around she remembered she was meant to be at the castle, but she realized she wasn’t in the room she’d been given.
It wasn’t until she spotted Navaill that she remembered what had happened. Sitting up, she swung her feet out of the bed so that her toes brushed the floor. It was cold, even though the air around her wasn't. She stretched a bit, h
