Jacob has never considered himself a coward, and for this reason he sees nothing wrong with admitting to himself that he is afraid. Not to other people, no. Never. That would be a blow to his pride, and frankly Jacob's pride has too many holes in it already. Every time someone looks at him and sees only his wings, it's like a bullet wound. Every flinch and double take is another fresh injury. And every sneer, ever muttered freak tears a piece of him away as well.

So he can't afford to admit to anyone else that he's afraid, not even Evie. But to himself, absolutely. Jacob is afraid of his nightmares, and he doesn't know what to do about them. They're… more than any other nightmare Jacob has ever had before. They hurt, they tear him apart, and they're true. Whatever that means, because they're impossible, aren't they?

The things he dreams about, the things they see, he can't… well, Jacob can't really believe things like that exist. He can't believe people would do things like the things he dreams about, hurt each other like that. Jacob is an assassin, he is used to death and pain. And even if he hadn't been, growing wings would have been an introduction to a fresh new kind of pain. But the kind of hurt he dreams about… that's different.

Every night, when exhaustion drags at his limbs and tries to pull him into sleep, Jacob takes to the skies instead. He flies for hours, feeding off the adrenaline that comes from flying. Adrenaline that comes from defying gravity, defying death, and doing it all under his own power. Jacob will fly until his shoulders ache, and then he'll come back to the train. Usually it's dawn by then, or close to it, but today Jacob is more tired than usual. He comes back early and falls onto his couch. Not to sleep, just to rest for a while.

Well—maybe just to close his eyes. He doesn't want to have the dream again, but he can just rest his eyes for a minute, he can just let them close and sit here with his wings wrapped around himself like a blanket. And he can close his eyes, and…

Sleep comes reaching up with black arms to claim him. Jacob is tired, he is so tired—he can't fight it a moment longer. He gives a little half hearted sob and curls into himself as sleep crashes over him like a breaking wave, and the dreams begin.

Pain—

His mind fragments under the pain, and he sees the world around him in shards like pieces of a broken mirror. There is blood on the ground and fire all around, and the fire comes from him. It pours from his mouth and the Enemy backs away. Even with all their power, they are nervous. They are afraid of him, but he is afraid too.

Something enormous soars past overhead, roaring like a creature out of nightmare, and he knows he should be in the air with it, fighting alongside it. They are brothers, they are two of a kind. Fire leaps from the creature's mouth, dancing through the hole where the roof of the laboratory used to be. It washes through him and over him, and does not harm him.

It would have, yesterday, but his body is no longer his, there are wings on his back, and his skin is covered up with scales The largest is bigger than a human skull, and they are all hard as diamonds. He is no longer human. They have changed him, they have taken everything he is and made him bigger, stronger, they have made him a symbol, something to strike terror into their enemies.

They have made him a dragon.

Someone grabs at his shoulder and Jacob jerks awake, throwing himself forward with a strangled gasp. "Don't let them," he babbles. "Don't let them do it, I don't want to change again—I just want… I want to stay me, don't… don't let them—"

"Jacob—" It's Evie, and Jacob curls up as much as he can in her arms. He is shaking and there are tears on his face. "Jacob, what happened?"

"I told you…" All thought of protecting his pride is a distant memory, all Jacob wants is to be told that everything is going to be alright, he wants to be held and cared about like he's still human. "I have dreams."

"You didn't tell me they were this bad," Evie says. She pulls him into a sitting position but even then he sags against her, shaking too badly to support his own weight.

"I told you they won't let me sleep," Jacob says. "What did you think…?"

"Sorry," Evie says. "Tell me about it, please? Please, Jacob, you can't shut me out anymore, not after this."

"It's like I'm really there," Jacob says. "I don't—I don't know where it is but it's like I'm in someone else's mind, but I'm… I'm actually him, when I dream."

"Who?"

"I don't know," Jacob says. "I dunno his name or anything, but he used to be human and then they made him a dragon."

"A dragon?"

"Big as a house and… and breathing fire and everything…" He gulps for air and can't meet Evie's eyes. "I'm still human, Evie, aren't I? I'm not like that, I'm not a monster—"

"You're human," Evie promises. "It's just… you're probably still having trouble adjusting to the wings. That's all, it's giving you nightmares where something even bigger happened."

"That's not it," Jacob says. Because maybe he doesn't know exactly what's going on in his head but the dream doesn't feel like something his mind invented. It feels real, like a memory, something that happened to someone else a long time ago. "Please believe me, Evie. I know you've always wanted wings but they're nothing but a curse. They changed my body, they're inside my dreams, they won't let me sleep, I just want to be normal again, I just…" he trails off, whimpering and exhausted.

"Shh…" Evie pulls him close and runs her hand through his hair. He's let it grow out, long and matted from where it hasn't been washed in too long, and Evie's quick, nimble fingers work patiently through the tangles. It feels nice, to let his sister take care of him, now that he's too far gone to take care of himself. "Jacob, we're going to figure this out. I promise, someday you'll be normal again. You'll be happy."

"Yea, right."

"You will."

"What are you going to do, Evie?" Jacob asks. "You've been studying stuff like this your whole life. Wings and whatever. If you don't know what to do, no one does."

"But you gave me a new lead tonight," Evie says. "Avalon, remember?"

Right. That thing Jacob doesn't actually remember saying. But the words hit something inside Jacob, they make his wings tense like he wants to take flight right this second and just fly forever. Maybe it does mean something. "What is it?" he asks.

"A mythical island," Evie says. "Legends say it's… where King Arthur is buried, and where Excalibur was forged."

"Excellent," Jacob says. "So the only lead we have on something that might help me is completely fictional."

"Even legends have to start from something real," Evie says. "Come on, Jacob. Trust me. I'll find something."

And because she's Evie, Jacob believes her.