Mira's POV
The dreams started small enough that I almost didn't notice the pattern forming beneath them.
Not the fractured, terrifying visions that had plagued me during the first weeks after the auction. The fire and screaming and half-formed memories I couldn't properly hold onto. Nothing like the strange, layered voice from Rowan's temple dream that he'd finally described to me weeks earlier, unsettling and ancient and clearly connected to whatever prophecy still hung unresolved over both our heads.
These were ordinary. Almost embarrassingly so.
The first one, I barely remembered upon waking, only a fragment lingering, Rowan and I arguing about something trivial, the particular details already dissolved by morning, though the tone of the argument, familiar and comfortable rather tha
