Page 64 of Whisper of Nightmares

Or perhaps it’s nothing nefarious at all. Perhaps this beast of a man is not trying to call to her; he’s merely trying to remember. To find something to cling to when the memories fade again. To keep himself grounded.

Something twists in her stomach at the thought that it could be her.

When Euphemia realizes he’s still watching her, waiting for a suggestion, she clears her throat. “Perhaps it’s best if you decide?”

They walk in silence. She wraps her arms around her shoulders, and scans the area for any signs of a threat—she doesn’t realize it, but for the first time in a long while she does not search for the nightmare.

They crest a small hill, giving them a modest viewpoint of the rest of the dream landscape—and from up here, she is almost certain it is a dream, for the strange wine-soaked vegetation seems to stretch for an eternity in every direction.

Somewhere in the distance, a low keening howl echoes across the lands.

Despite herself, Euphemia scuttles closer to the beast of a man. He doesn’t seem to notice, his attention remaining attuned to wherever the howl had come from.

Only once it doesn’t seem like danger is racing toward them, does Euphemia ask again, “Well? What name have you chosen?”

“I’ve chosen none,” he chuckles, though he does not peel his gaze off of the horizon.

“Well, I must call you something.”

“Call me anything you’d like, Euphemia.”

Her chest heats at the way he says her name. “But I do not know you well enough to name you.”

“That makes two of us.” He sighs heavily. Finally deeming the threat gone, he turns his attention upon her, arms out, apathetically presenting himself. “What is the first thing that comes to mind when you behold me?”

Now Euphemia does clamp her mouth shut. The words pummel her skull though.

Beast.

Monster.

Demon.

A derisive snort rumbles from him as if he can hear her thoughts. “Call me that then.”

Euphemia’s jaw widens. Her parents raised her better than this. Surely, she can muster an unoffensive name for this strange, mildly pathetic but also intimidating creature.

He protected her from harm that she otherwise would not have known was upon her.

He’s forgotten himself, and yet he strives to remember her name.

He has been nothing but respectful. A vigilant defender of her well-being.

And yet, those cloven hooves make her stomach quiver. The fire of his gaze gives her pause.

Something happened to him—this man caught between two worlds. A man of fear and steel. Of fire and bone.

A word drifts to her as if it were the fog creeping into her mind.

Not a name, necessarily.

More like something left behind in the wake of destruction.

“Ash.”

Just one word. One syllable. And yet, a multitude of meanings are packed within it.

His chest rises and falls. He tilts his head, as if considering it.