High above the Huzha Desert, Ako flew. The sun was bright, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, save one that was near the sun. It was a beautiful day, and Ako screeched joyfully as she flapped her wings. She didn’t know what bird she was, but she was brown and quite large, at least over six feet in length.

Once she would’ve panicked to have been in a dream such as this. Then, she had been taken aside by Grandmother, who explained that she had the Sight. It was random and couldn’t be controlled, only witnessed. They were a gift from Noam herself, and they were both a blessing and a curse to be used to help her people.

So, Ako witnessed this dream. She dipped and dove, flying through the currents of the air like she had been born to it. It was exhilarating, and for a while, she did nothing but enjoy herself. As she flew, Ako put everything in the back of her mind: her family, Marek’s wounds, their lack of numbers and food, the fact that they were trapped in Ashenstead, everything. She ignored it all and enjoyed the moment as best she could.

Then, the cloud moved in front of the sun. Ako stopped flying and hovered, trembling as the temperature began to drop. What was once a warm day in the Desert dramatically changed, and even while feathered Ako found herself beginning to shiver uncontrollably. It was cold, much too cold for the Huzha, and it was becoming colder.

The sun was trying to power through the cloud, trying to illuminate the desert in its glow. There’s something behind the force, something intangible. The cloud began to glow a golden hue, and for a moment, Ako thought it was going to crack and shatter. She began to feel warm again, like she was sitting in front of a roaring fire. At the precipice of breaking, it stopped.

The glow fought valiantly, but it lessened over time. Ako flew closer to the cloud, trying to feel a few more fleeting moments of warmth, but it was gone. The cold returned with a vengeance as the world darkened around her, and Ako screeched as she fell. Her wings were almost frozen, and it took a few dozen heart-stopping moments of freefall before she managed to unfurl her wings fully, stopping herself from hitting the ground.

She flew low to the ground, looking for anything alive. There was nothing—just endless hills of sand. Picking a random hill, she lighted down on it. The desert was cold beneath her talons. She pecked the sand with her beak. It was cold, ice cold. Ako shivered again, huddling close into herself as it became even colder.

Ako looked up at the sky. It was pitch black. She couldn’t see the sun or anything else. It wasn’t just the clouds either—there was something else, a malevolent force that was glaring down at her spitefully. She felt like a bug that was about to be squashed. She glared at the darkness and flapped her wings, which only seemed to provoke the sky. It grew darker and colder somehow. Ako could see her breath now, and she closed her eyes, waiting for death.

Just as she began to surrender into peaceful oblivion, a bright light burst into existence. Ako opened her eyes, shielding her eyes with a wing. Peering through her feathers, she gasped as she saw a man standing in the middle of the Huzha.

Marek! Ako thought, recognizing the man immediately, even from a distance. He had the same stance and pose as when he was fighting. He was straight-backed and rigid, his hands held over his head. Power flowed from them: liquid, deadly, and beautiful. His power flew up, toward the sky and toward whatever was influencing the world.

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Marek fought the presence, and the presence didn’t like it. The darkness went to surround Marek. It buffeted him, almost knocking him over. Marek screamed a few words defiantly, but in the end, he was swallowed up by the swirling gloom.

MAREK! Ako mentally screamed. Flapping her near-frozen wings, she managed to lift off the ground a few feet. She flew down to where Marek had been standing. She flew faster than the speediest of arrows, but by the time she arrived, there was nothing but darkness there. The swirling mixture of darkness radiated smug content.

Unheeded, Ako flew toward it. She would rescue Marek if it were the last thing she did. The smugness turned into alarm as she flew toward it. Dark bolts of energy flew toward her. She curled in the air, twisting and avoiding the bolts. One flew directly where she had just been. It was intensely cold and would have undoubtedly killed or grievously wounded her.

As she flew closer to the darkness, Ako could see pinpricks of white deep within them. Narrowing her eyes, she saw that Marek was standing within it, still channeling his magic and resisting.

Just as Ako hit the darkness, Marek turned. He reached a hand toward her, his eyes wide with alarm. He screamed a single word, but Ako lost it as she was enveloped in the darkness. It was cold, and she immediately felt her feathers ripped from her, along with everything else.

She awoke as she died. She raised a shaking hand to her face, touching it.

Marek must know, Ako thought. It was clear her dream had been a warning from Noam. She needed to tell him before he did something rash. She rose from her bedroll, throwing back her blankets as Marek shot up from his own bedroll.

“NO!” Marek shouted. He was gasping for air like he had just been in a sprint. He looked around wildly, his eyes unseeing.

Wyatt turned from his position at the Main Hall’s entrance, his sword already drawn. Ako raised a hand to calm him. She didn’t say anything, but even in the darkness, she could see Wyatt’s nod as he sheathed his sword.

Ako returned her attention to Marek. He was still looking around wildly, in terrified confusion.

“Marek?” she asked softly. He turned to her.

“Ako,” he breathed. Upon seeing her, he calmed down. He flexed one of his bandaged hands and winced.

“I had a dream,” Ako said. She kept her words calm and soft to not startle him. “We need to talk.”

“OK,” Marek said. He nodded. “OK,” he repeated. “Tell me about your dream, Ako.”