Chapter 2
Part 1
The dream was not his.
Erlin knew that from the first breathless second of it. He didn't dream in such clean lines—this one was crisp, structured, quiet. Too quiet. The sort of quiet that has already heard screams and is waiting patiently for more.
He stood, barefoot, on the edge of a black river.
On the other side, seven torches burned—though there was no wind, no fuel, no ground. Just flame, suspended in ash-dark air.
Behind him, someone breathed.
"You're awake again."
He turned. There she was—her—wearing his face like a mask peeled back at the eyes. Her mouth didn't move when she spoke, but her voice echoed through his thoughts, curling behind his ribs.
"Where are we?" he asked.
"Nowhere. Inside. A holding place between your mind and mine." She looked down at her—his—hands. "You're lucid now. That's something."
Erlin frowned. "You said you'd let me live."
"And I have," she said. "You're breathing. You can think. You're standing."
"You're using me."
"I'm borrowing. Not the same thing."
"You're stealing."
"Only when you resist."
That made him pause.
The torches across the river flared briefly, as if reacting to the exchange.
"Why me?" he asked. "Why not the priest? Or the woman at the shack?"
"You're young," she said. "Stupid. Spirit-sensitive. You bled on my tomb and didn't flee fast enough. That made you… accessible."
"Not special."
"No. Just convenient."
That stung more than it should've.
"So what now?" he asked.
"We share," she said. "For now."
He blinked. "Share?"
"I need a body to move through the world. You need to not be eaten by it. If you cooperate, you can… guide things. See things. Speak when I allow it."
"Like a familiar?"
Her mouth curved faintly. "No. Like a passenger."
Erlin laughed bitterly. "And if I say no?"
"Then I leave you in a body full of ghosts," she said. "They'll come. Eventually. Even if you don't bleed again."
The torches dimmed.
He looked at them, then back at her.
"You're bluffing."
"Am I?"
One of the flames blinked out.
Erlin felt something leave him. Something he hadn't noticed he was holding.
He shivered.
And he nodded.
"Fine," he said. "We share."
Velrona stepped closer. "Then listen. Watch. When we wake, I speak. You listen. And if I find you lying to me—ever—I'll leave enough of you behind to watch yourself rot."
He nodded again.
And the river faded.
He awoke in his own bed at the inn.
His fingers flexed.
His breath caught.
But his chest… it rose at his command. His head turned when he willed it. He reached out and touched the sheet—rough, sweat-stained, coarse.
He was back.
Not fully.
But the body was his again.
Mostly.
You have one hour, Velrona said in the back of his mind.
Erlin swung his legs out of bed and sat there, staring at his hands.
He didn't know whether to laugh or sob.
Instead, he got dressed.