Damien lay on his back, his whole body dripping with sweat. His heart drummed against his ribs like a war from drum in combat, and his hard, panting breaths stabbed his chest. His fist clamped to the sheets and he panted for air, but the visions, the battle, Elare's smile, the knife in his stomach, Malcolm's evil words. Seized him like a wetting fog
It was only a dream. A nightmare. But it had seemed so realm His mind reeled with questions. Was it a warning? A foretelling? Or the specters of his own past creeping out for him once more?
He sprang up quickly, shaking the damp hair, and yelling, without even knowing he'd made a noise, "Luna!" She was at his side in an instant in his room, her silver eyes blazing over him. "What is it? What's wrong?"
Damien gasped sharply, holding the bed
