48
Lincoln
For once, I don’t dream of the Guide.
Instead my night visions have me wandering about the Reptilian palace, searching for Myla. At times, I hear her voice or catch the swish of her tail around a corner. In classic dream-like fashion, I can never quite catch up to her.
Hours stream by.
The search continues.
Monotonous.
Unending.
There are no visions of my past.
No cryptic messages about the future.
Although I’m asleep, some part of my consciousness analyzes this night vision. As my dream-self seeks out Myla, that other part realizes one fact.
There’s still more at risk here than I realize.
I must see the Guide again.
