Thomas floated in a sea of dreams. Brief snapshots flitted through his mind, one after another, like a slideshow on his laptop. His mother. His father. His brother. Sometimes he saw Aidan, or Celyn, and once, Nona, her face pale, but determined.
But they faded under an onslaught of cold that froze him to the marrow, as if a block of ice encased him. Just when he thought he couldn’t stand it any longer, welcome warmth returned. But soon it, too, became too much. From freezing cold, he became roasting hot. Voices whispered through his mind, and nightmare images rippled around him. The Alder King rode after him, Hounds snapping at his heels. Matthew fell away over a cliff, his face contorted in a scream. The Undying reached for him, long claws gripping at his arm as he pelted through a mist
