(POV Elyzara)
The dream took me like a tide.
Not softly, not like those sweet drifting dreams of floating through clouds or wandering starlit fields. No, this one dragged me under swift and merciless, like a rip current of memory I hadn't known I possessed. Like something ancient had opened its eyes behind mine.
I stood in a chamber carved of obsidian and bone, lit by torches that burned with violet flame. Silken banners fluttered high above, each one bearing the sigil of a coiled serpent with wings of fire. At the center of the room rose a throne or perhaps not one, but two, side by side. One carved from flame-kissed steel, the other from polished black stone.
And I me, Elyzara stood draped in black and crimson robes, my long silver hair braided with strands of molten gold. A crown shaped like twisting horns encircled my brow. My hand was outstretched.
Holding it… was Velka.
Not ten-year-old Velka, not awkward, flustered, staring-at-me-like-I'm-a-confusing-math-equation Velka.
