Sleep did not come gently.
When it finally took me, it dragged me under like a tide made of fire and shadow. I dreamed without images at first—only sensations. Heat along my spine. A presence standing too close. The sound of my own breath catching in a way that felt remembered rather than new.
Then the dream sharpened.
I stood in a vast hall I did not recognize, its ceiling lost in smoke. My feet were bare. My hands were clean—no ash, no scars. Someone was there with me, though I could not see his face. I only knew his nearness, solid and certain, like a truth that had always existed.
"Annie."
My name fell from his lips with familiarity.
I woke with a sharp inhale, my chest tight, my heart racing as if I had been running. The stone room was dark, lit faintly by the glow of distant fire beyond the narrow opening. The dream clung to me, heavy and intimate, refusing to fade.
Someone had said my name.
Here.
I rose from the bed and moved to the opening in the wall. The land stretched endlessly—ash plains broken by rivers of flame, the palace rising behind me like a watching giant. The air hummed with restrained violence, yet beneath it all ran an unsettling order, as if this place obeyed a will rather than chaos.
His will.
The Ash King.
The thought came uninvited, followed by a strange tightening low in my stomach. I wrapped my arms around myself, disturbed by how easily my body reacted to the memory of his presence.
Footsteps echoed outside my door.
I stepped back just as it opened.
A demon entered—female, tall, her skin the color of burnt bronze, eyes sharp and assessing. She carried folded fabric in her arms.
"You are to change," she said, tossing the garments onto the bed. "The King dislikes ash on his floors."
"I didn't ask to be here," I said.
She paused, then laughed softly. "Neither did most of us."
When she left, I unfolded the clothes. They were simple, dark, and unfamiliar—nothing like the habit I had worn since my life had been taken from me. I hesitated, then changed, folding my old garment carefully as though it were a relic from another existence.
When I emerged into the corridor, heads turned.
Whispers followed.
"A living soul."
"She walks like she belongs."
"Careful. The King watches her."
I kept my gaze forward, my spine straight. Fear I understood. Attention I did not.
They led me into a long gallery overlooking the lower courts. From there, I saw punishment carried out with efficiency, not cruelty—sentences delivered without pleasure, pain administered without passion. It unsettled me more than savagery would have.
"He rules with restraint," the demon beside me said, reading my expression. "That is why this realm still stands."
"Does he ever… hesitate?" I asked quietly.
She glanced at me sharply. "No."
But her answer came too fast.
Later, as I was guided back through the palace, I felt it again—that subtle pressure, that awareness sliding across my skin. I stopped.
He stood at the far end of the corridor, speaking to one of his guards. He did not look at me.
Yet I knew.
The guard left. Silence stretched.
"You should not wander," he said without turning.
"I wasn't," I replied. "I was being watched."
He faced me then.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
"You dreamed," he said.
It was not a question.
My breath caught. "How would you—"
"This realm does not touch the living gently," he continued. "If it has begun to echo inside you, that is dangerous."
"For whom?" I asked.
His eyes darkened. "For both of us."
The air thickened between us, heavy with something unspoken. I felt it again—that pull, that sense of standing at the edge of something I did not yet have words for.
"I don't know your name," I said.
"No," he agreed.
"And you don't know mine," I added, even though he did.
A faint, almost imperceptible smile ghosted across his lips—gone as quickly as it appeared.
"Go back to your chambers, Annie," he said softly. "This place remembers more than you think."
He turned and walked away.
I remained where I was, my heart pounding, the echo of my name still vibrating through me.
I did not recognize him.
But my soul did.
And it was beginning to wake.