In his dreams, Rhoden danced with the ghosts.

Glittering skirts swirled and heeled boots marched across an ornate marble floor. Above, blue and black lights shone down through the darkness. The music wove through it all, mysterious and heart-rending.

Behind the gem-studded masks they wore, their skin was black. Black as a midnight with no stars. Black as the deepest cavern beneath the earth. The mark of a race long destroyed. The mark of the Shadows.

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They moved to the music, never ceasing, dancing steps never before seen to melodies never before heard. Rhoden was unafraid. He, too, knew the steps. The music thrummed in him like a second heartbeat, strange and yet familiar.

Over all, the king watched, silent and regal. His lips curved in a secret smile.