Chapter 1
His dream was long and confusing. It was broken into many parts. Sometimes he was running in the middle of the night, heading he knew not where but knowing instinctively that his life was in danger. Dew soaked through his trousers and somewhere in the distance he saw the shadow of a forest. There were two other people with him, and in rare moments of recollections, he recognised them and the fact that one of them was injured and the other was helping the poor man along.
“We have to go different ways.” He heard a voice so familiarly like his, yelling into the biting air. “I’ll create a distraction. Find somewhere to hide.”
“You can’t, my lord!” protested the uninjured man.
“Don’t worry about me. I can look after myself. Go!”
What came after that? The ringing sound of multiple gunshots, the flash of white light, and the stench of magic so potent, he nearly gagged and forgot his pain. Am I going to die? He seemed to recall thinking that as he lay bleeding on the grass. Or maybe it was Oh, those goddamned Witches, instead.
Sometimes he dreamed of a woman crying. He was sure he knew her but the dream distorted her face, her eyes, her hair, until all he registered was her equally distorted mouth opening widely and screaming unceasingly, “Everything was your fault! YOUR FAULT!” He wanted to shut her up but because he could not, he turned away, only to see more unrecognisable faces looking in his direction, their eyes piercing him with hatred, their lips chanting accusations.
Sometimes he dreamed of his little girl. There was peace and quiet when he was with her and even though they seemed to be doing the same thing again and again, it was his favourite part of the dream.
But without fail, every time he dreamed of his little girl, he would again find himself bleeding in the middle of a grass field. Maybe it was the same field as where he ran away from the Witches and was gunned down, maybe it was a different field altogether. But all his thought was with her, all his regret and longing, and as if summoning the dead, there she stood looming over him, her long black hair whipping in the wind, her blue eyes glowing. He tried to call her name but before the word could leave his tongue, darkness engulfed him.
He had a feeling that if he succeeded in saying her name, he would leave this purgatory.
“K… Kestrel?”
And he was right.
