Seraiah found herself standing at the foot of a young woman’s bed. It took her a moment to realize she was looking at Ariya. The girl in the bed was a pale imitation of her good friend.

Dark bruises threatened to engulf Ariya’s sunken eyes, which were shut tight—whether in sleep or pain, Seraiah wasn’t sure. Ariya’s once glossy hair was now lank and matted, pieces of it sticking to her sweaty forehead. Even under the heavy blankets, Seraiah could see Ariya had lost weight.

She stepped around to the side of the bed and took a seat at Ariya’s side. When she reached for Ariya’s hand, her friend’s eyes snapped open. Startled, Seraiah pulled her hand back and sprang from the bed.

Could Ariya see her like Sterling had?

No.

No, Ariya’s eyes weren’t focused on her. They weren’t focused on anything at all. Coughs racked her frail body, and she pressed a white handkerchief she’d been gripping to her lips. Seraiah watched helplessly, waiting for the fit to end.

Finally, the coughs subsided, and Ariya pulled the handkerchief away from her mouth. There was no mistaking the bright spot of red that had bloomed on the lily-white linen. Ariya had the fever, and by the looks of things, she only had days left to live.

Abruptly, the scene changed.

Now Seraiah found herself in the market—in Papa’s stall, to be exact. Her father sat on a stool at the back. It was the stool where she had sat as a child, and then Sterling after her. As Seraiah approached, she saw deep wrinkles lined Papa’s face, and his hair had lost most of its color. He looked as if he had aged ten years in the time since she’d last seen him.

Seraiah glanced around. It seemed to be midday, but there wasn’t a single customer in sight. It was quiet. There was a larger number of empty stalls now than the last time she had been here—including the one next to Papa’s.

Seraiah stared at the open space, not quite believing it.

Freya’s stall was empty. There was no sign of her or her daughters. She didn’t want to think about what that might mean.

Seraiah turned back to her father, and the scene dissolved before her eyes.

This time, the vision left her standing in a green field that was vaguely familiar to her. It was the daisies dotting the grass that jogged Seraiah’s memory.

This was the field outside the woods. The one she’d traveled through with Kai and Kestrel on their way to Baromund.

But why would the dream bring her here?

Seraiah had her answer a moment later when an icy breeze tore her hair back from her face. She knew that smell—was intimately familiar with it after five years of winter.

Snow was coming.

Not a minute later, the flakes began to fall. The green grass beneath her feet wilted and browned. The daisies dropped their petals, and they too disappeared as a blanket of snow rapidly covered the ground.

It happened so fast.

In the blink of an eye, the lush field before her was a barren wasteland of ice and snow.

Seraiah sank to her knees in the white powder—not even feeling the cold biting at her skin. Her tears froze on her cheeks as she mourned what had once been here.

----------------------------------------

Someone pounding on the door of her room woke her from the dream.

“Seraiah,” Lonan called through the wooden door. “Are you in there? It’s time for us to be leaving.”

Hastily, Seraiah brushed the tears from her cheeks. She must have been crying in her sleep, just as she had been shedding tears in her dream.

“Give me a minute,” she called back.

She scrambled out of bed and quickly dressed in the set of clothes that Therill’s wife had dried for her. They still smelled a little like the lake, but she didn’t have time to wash them now. At least they were dry.

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When Seraiah opened the door, she found not only Lonan waiting for her, but Therill as well.

“Good morning,” both gnomes greeted her brightly.

“We brought you breakfast,” Therill said, holding up a tray with food for her to see.

Lonan had a bag, similar to the one Seraiah carried, slung over his shoulder.

She stepped aside so they could enter the room.

“After you eat,” Lonan told her, “we will be on our way.”

Therill carried the tray of food over to the table next to the bed while Lonan made himself at home. She noticed Therill was carrying a bag, too.

“Did you change your mind?” she asked him hopefully.

“Changed my mind?”

Seraiah pointed to the bag in his hand.

“Oh, this.” Therill held the bag out to her. “This is more food for your journey. Pibble insisted I bring it for you.”

“Thank you,” Seraiah accepted the bag from him, “and tell Pibble thank you, as well. I’m sorry I didn’t get to see her again like she asked.”

“It’s nothing,” Therill said, looking bashful. “I told her it would be too much. You could feed an army with all this food, but she refused to let me leave the house without it.”

“Well, it’s greatly appreciated. One can never have too much food.” She smiled at him, and he returned her grin. It would be more for her to carry, but she didn’t dare mention that when the thought had been kind.

While Seraiah ate the porridge they had brought her for breakfast—she suspected it was somehow made with mushrooms like the stew had been—Lonan and Therill debated about what was the best way to avoid cave beetles.

After she had finished and gathered up her things, the three of them set out for the tunnel that would lead them through the mountain range.

Therill accompanied them only to the edge of the city. “Here is where I must say my goodbyes. I hope we meet again one day, Seraiah. Perhaps next time you visit Metrius, you can stay longer, and we can show you around our city.”

“I would like that very much.” Seraiah thanked him again for all his help.

Then she and Lonan were on their own.

Lonan kept up a steady stream of conversation as they walked, and at first, it was pleasant, but it didn’t take long before she wished he would be silent. When he started telling yet another story about the time he found a glowing mushroom patch, her thoughts wandered.

As much as Seraiah wished what she’d seen in her dream the night before wouldn’t happen, she had a bad feeling it already had. More of her world might be covered in ice and snow right now, and her friends and family might be suffering, but she wasn’t there to help them. No, instead, she was traipsing through a cave system under a mountain in search of a dragon scale for a scrap of information about her sister.

“Are you listening?” Lonan asked.

“Yes, of course, I’m listening,” Seraiah lied.

“What was I talking about then?”

“Mushrooms?” she guessed. Mushrooms seemed to be the only thing he’d talked about for the last few hours.

“Oh, good, you were listening.” Lonan proceeded to tell her yet another mushroom story.

It took her a moment to realize he’d already told her this one.

“Umm . . . Lonan?”

“Yes?”

“You’ve already told me this story before.”

“I did?” He stopped walking and turned to look at her, the lantern he held lighting his face. His forehead was scrunched up in thought.

“Yes, you found glowing purple mushrooms growing from the roof of a cave, and when you brought them back, the clan rewarded you for your discovery and wanted to name the mushrooms after you.”

“Oh well,” he finally said, “I suppose I did tell you then. My memory isn’t quite what it used to be.”

“It’s fine,” Seraiah reassured him. “Let’s keep moving.”

“Right, right.” Lonan started walking again.

It wasn’t long before he began another story.

Once again, it was a story about mushrooms, and this time, Seraiah didn’t have the heart to tell him he’d already told her this one, too.

If she ever made it out of here, she never wanted to see or hear about mushrooms again.

She kept quiet, trudging along behind him.

He finished telling the story and immediately launched into the one about the glowing purple mushrooms again.

Now Seraiah was concerned.

Was Lonan’s memory going? She hoped that wasn’t the case because she wouldn’t be able to find a way out of here on her own.

They reached the first split in the tunnel, and their journey came to a halt as Lonan held the lantern up to first one tunnel, and then the other, mumbling under his breath all the while.

To Seraiah’s eyes, both tunnels appeared to be identical, branching off in different directions. She had no sense of direction underground, but Lonan should have no problem knowing which was the direction they wanted. He had lived his whole life underground, after all.

A few more minutes passed, and Lonan still hadn’t made up his mind which tunnel they should take.

“Are you sure you know the way through the mountain?” she asked him.

“Of course,” he snapped. “It’s this way.” He shined the lantern into the tunnel on the left.

“If you need more time to think about it, we can wait.”

“No, it’s this one. Let’s go.” Lonan marched off down the left tunnel, clearly annoyed that Seraiah was questioning him.

She sighed and followed along behind him. She hoped he was right.

He went back to animatedly chatting about mushrooms while she followed silently behind.

A few pebbles rolled down the wall next to her, landing at her feet.

Lonan was still chattering away and didn’t seem to notice as he ambled along in front of her.

“Lonan?”

He stopped and swung around to face her. “What now?”

“Is it normal for pebbles to come down the wall here?”

“Hmm.” He scratched his beard. “No, this part of the tunnels is usually stable, and no one should be working out this way.”

As he finished speaking, a larger shower of pebbles rained down the wall onto them, and Lonan’s eyes grew comically large.

“Is that—” Seraiah started to ask before Lonan cut her off.

“We should run now.”