Page 100 of Whisper of Nightmares

Everything is shades of grey. Not a smudge of violet anywhere.

And dread pools in her stomach.

This is not the dream she meant to slip into. Quite frankly, after so many nights avoiding it, Euphemia foolishly believed she might have rid herself of this place forever. She thought maybe it was Thorfell. That it had some way of protecting her from this.

She should’ve known better.

There is no hiding from this place.

No hiding from the nightmare.

As if on cue, sulfur burns her nose.

Violet flames flicker from the tree line.

The nightmare emerges, devastating in its beauty.

Even now, knowing everything she does, Euphemia still cannot stop herself from advancing. One hand outstretches. Drawn to the creature of flames and death by some incomprehensible pull.

Just once, she would like to stop this sequence of events.

But as her hand reaches for the nightmare’s velvety soft nose, she wonders what purpose that would solve. The damage has already been done. Her father’s life, claimed. Nothing can change that, no matter how much she wishes otherwise.

Although Euphemia does not want to look and would rather squeeze her eyes shut and cram her fingers in her ears until this dreadful moment passes, she cannot move.

Can’t bring herself to look away as her father races across the meadow.

Can’t bring herself to ignore the sharpness of his wails as he cries out her name.

Can’t bring herself to do anything but watch as he leaps before her and the nightmare’s violet flames engulf him in a fiery death.

For the first time, Euphemia watches the whole thing.

She does not run.

Does not even scream.

When her father is no more than a pile of ashes, when Euphemia’s face is as slick as a riverbed, only then does she collapse. Falling to her knees, Euphemia inches as close as she can to him. Pain bellows out of her, hollowing out a deep pit inside her. But she lets it. She pours all of her hurt—all of the grief and guilt—into the meadow for her father to see.

“I am sorry, Father,” she says to him, and though she is not sure he can hear her, it does something to her. Repairs a small sliver of the gaping wound inside. “So, so sorry.”

Only once the tears slow does Euphemia remember the nightmare.

She glances up.

The creature’s flames are gentle, like the dimness of mourning candles.

And behind the nightmare, she sees him for the first time tonight. The figure obscured in shadows and flame. But as he steps forward, she recognizes that skull face. Those bright blue eyes.

“Euphemia?” Ash says, his voice scorching her to cinders.

Euphemia staggers back on hands and knees. “I knew it. I knew it was you. All this time, I thought⁠—”

Light pierces through the night sky, beaming down like a spear thrown from the heavens.

The ray of radiance illuminates her father’s ashes.

Euphemia looks up, horrorstricken as shadows descend through the light. Large wings spread wide. Feathers flutter. Plumes drift down like snowflakes, settling in a perfect halo around her father⁠—