8
Fern
The Corpse King. I came awake, trying to piece together my dreams and memories. The skeleton hand reaching from the mist—it seemed so real.
It was night. The rest of the lodge lay in slumber. I listened for the lonely howls of the banished warriors. The wind whistled in the eaves, but that was all.
I dozed, drifting.
I walked through a castle, a great hall and a long line of women watching me silently. A king waited on a dais far ahead, but every step I took weighed me down. I wore a gown, and a necklace—a simple chain and a milky white stone. My steps grew heavy, the jewel a weight around my neck. By the time I reached the stairs to the dais, I felt like I was pushing through water. The women watched, but none moved to help me. Finally, I looked up and saw the king—and he was
