He had simply resolved to himself that if he did not enter that room, did not see that face, did not hear those words, that it was not true. That he’d somehow imagined it all—that it wasn’t true.

  The fact that Casper was dying.

  Imre decided, somewhere between the sleepless nights and late-night rides, that he needed to do something. No, not about the situation at hand—that part was inevitable, a responsibility he’d drown in no matter how long he tried to swim. He wanted to find a way to help his kingdom, to make sure everyone considered him more than “the kid who had to replace Casper.” A mix of a desire to be useful, really, and a sense of desperation—though still not a single bit of selfish desires or even self-confidence—brought him to spend those nights in the library instead. An admittedly awful coping strategy, but he learned over the years that it was those books, theories, and motives he kept falling back on.

  The focus of his research was, frankly, the easiest part of it. To say Seothia had a Skiá problem was an understatement; it was more like a one-sided war that Seothia was definitely losing. More kept appearing, from the barely-unnoticeable-until-fatal Myaló, from the ever-increasing Schedón Fysikí, and the chilling Fysikós. Nearly half the army’s reports were about Skiá, with the number steadily increasing, most including some fatalities.

  Honestly, in his research, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d be the king of Seothia when half of their population had been killed off by these Skiá. He could imagine the history chapter’s title now—King Imre, The Failure, Letting Shadow Creatures Kill Countless People.

  He shook his head at the thought. He needed to stay focused.

  It was just as easy to find the root of Seothia’s problem—or a theory behind it, anyway. They lacked magic. Or, more specifically, the dragons and manticores that wandered around Qizar and Idkor. But that wasn’t exactly something he could fix. Dragons and manticores were just as sentient as the humans were; he couldn’t even blame them for leaving, after what Seothians did to their brethren, and he certainly wouldn’t force them to come back. They could not have the kind of magic users that Qizar or Idkor had, the ley lines wouldn’t allow for that. It took extremely powerful light mages in Qizar to create the artifacts that weren’t even guaranteed to work. How was Seothia supposed to compare to that?

  Then… he came across something else. The Xypnima óneiro—or, the dreamer. Someone who should have the ability to manipulate dreams and nightmares—Fos and Skiá—to their whim. Details were blurry, but he was able to piece together some information about them. They were a type of Ilethera, or at least closely associated with them, who were simply born into the world. Their connections to Fos and Skiá were, presumably, easy enough to determine with a bit of observation, magic, and process of elimination. Best yet, they seemed to be the perfect solution.

  The one problem was that there was not a single one recorded in any of the three nations, let alone one that could help them.

  …

  After officially becoming king, Imre sent letters to each of the region controllers and Zofie about the dreamers; the kinds of things they should look out for, what to do if they think they found one, and their importance to Seothia’s future. He, honestly, was expecting only to get laughed at or completely ignored.

  He thought he was misreading when Enuolare wrote to him saying that she’d recently taken in a child just like that. Thankfully, she agreed to travel to Lelishara so he could see it for himself.

  “Are you sure?” he asked. He should, probably, have been relieved. Instead, he looked at the baby and wondered if this happened to be an elaborate joke.

  Enuolare nodded. “At least, from what I was able to do on my own. I was able to talk to the Hyacinth that had first found her. She was all alone out there—there were no nearby towns and no one even willing to claim they’d recently had a child. She wasn’t crying when the Hyacinth found her—there wasn’t even a scratch.”

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  Imre nodded, slowly. “So she’s at least an Ilethera. Would you mind staying for a little bit longer? Samone’s not here right now, but she should be able to make sure.”

  “Even if she’s what you’re looking for… we wouldn’t know what it means until she’s a little older, right? What she’ll be capable of doing, I mean.”

  “Yes. We need to make sure she stays with someone safe that I can keep in touch with…”

  “My husband and I can do it.”

  “We’re dealing with something closely related to the Skiá—we don’t know how dangerous that could be. I can’t ask you to put you and your family at risk.”

  Enuolare seemed rather resolved, though. She must’ve thought about this on her ride here. “We’ve already talked about it and we’re both ready to take the risk. Your best choice is to leave her with someone who will be able to protect her, watch over her, and observe her growth. That means a noble. We’re more than willing to help.”

  “A-alright. Just stay safe. I don’t want to hear that someone got hurt because of this…”

  …

  “I’m sure it’s fine,” Minne said in an attempt at reassurance. Really, after this many years, she should’ve known by now that it wouldn’t have worked.

  Imre had not stopped pacing since he realized that Dimas should be coming back soon. “He said that Zofie believed that this was a strong dreamer—more than what Enebish was. A lot more. They realized that there was a Skiá attached to him, but no one had noticed a Fos. And he’s coming home with my husband any minute now. Or, he should. If something didn’t happen on their way here…”

  “Nokae, when was the last time you slept for longer than three hours?” Samone asked.

  He actually stopped pacing for a minute to think about it. When he decided not to give an answer and continued pacing, she sighed.

  “There’s nothing you have to worry about,” Minne continued. “Dimas will come back safely. We have everything we need to keep the baby—and everyone else—safe. You should think on the bright side of things. You’re going to be a father. Isn’t that amazing?”

  He let out a bit of nervous laughter. “The father of the boy who can either save or destroy the entire kingdom.”

  “Well, you’ll have all of us with you. Together, I’m sure everything will be fine.”

  …

  He was bent over a dozen reports, all with similarly grim contents, forcing himself to remember that Lydia and Tavin would be coming back soon. He’d gotten a letter not too long ago from them. They’ll be fine.

  Still, when there was a knock on the door, he partially dreaded who he might see when he said, “Come in.”

  Elena nervously entered. Before he could ask anything, she quickly said, “Lydia’s keeping Tavin busy and told Kiah to keep Natheniel with her at the army’s base.”

  “Why..?”

  To answer his question, she gestured a girl inside, whispering some kind of reassurance to her. An eight-year-old, from the looks of it, who seemed rather apathetic considering the circumstances.

  “This is Muriel,” Elena explained. “We found her while we were there. She doesn’t remember anything before us and no one recognized her in town. We were hoping you could help us figure out what we should do…”

  He realized immediately what she meant. He looked between her and the girl and, more out of caution than disbelief, mumbled, “She’s too old.”

  “That’s what we thought too, at first. But we looked into it—there’s nothing that should prevent it.”

  “But that shouldn’t be possible.” There were no records of Ilethera or dreamers being found any older than a year old. Yet, something must’ve been going on if there was a girl with no memory that no one recognized…

  Elena’s response may have seemed random then, but he understood its meaning. “What I didn’t think was possible was that Tavin could be rude to a girl he’d just met.”

  It was the real thing, then. That made it a bit hard to deny…

  “Alright,” he decided. “I’ll have to see what I can do, but I think it can work. I’ll try to find someone—”

  “I was going to volunteer myself, actually,” Elena interrupted. She looked down and smiled at the girl, who seemed to treat the conversation with a kind of curiosity. “I don’t mind, really. She’s gotten to know us a bit on our trip back. I think it’ll be better if she’s with someone she’s at least somewhat familiar with—it might make the process a little easier for her.” There were no double meanings behind it.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Certain.”

  “Then I won’t stop you. Just keep her safe, alright? Everyone deserves as much.”