“Not this time. If she threatens again though I will intervene.”
Kyrin felt herself coming out of the dream. In it, she was speaking
to Daemionis and walking along one of the dark plateaus that filled
the Valley of the Dead in Paramide. Creteloc was there in the
dream, and Kyrin missed her. She was the closest thing Kyrin had
to a friend, and had introduced her into Daemionis’ followers in
lieu of killing her as a sacrifice.
“Kyrin?” Alric asked when she started to stir.
She remembered she was in the middle of a punishment, but could
no longer feel the cleansing of pain. If she was prematurely out of
pain, then she couldn’t be fully absolved of trying to kill a member
of her master’s elite guard.
“Come on, Kyrin. Open your eyes.”
Once she was able to pull free of the deep sleep, she looked over at
him to see if he was mad.
Alric smiled, “Welcome back.”
The soft bed at her back was uncomfortable and unfamiliar, so she
sat up slowly and looked around the room.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.