Disclaimer: Valdemar and concepts belong to Mercedes Lackey; characters belong to their creators; this fic and AU belong to their author.

Notes: Thank you to everyone who submitted characters for In Dreams! They'll all be introduced in good time! :)

AU Background: They are Spirits of the Forest, crystal eyed and white as freshly fallen snow, and seen only occasionally in fleeting glances. They are said to be ethereal, angels of another time and place, bound to the Earth by a spell… or a curse. And it is the destiny of those chosen as Collegium Trainees to search for a Spirit to call their own. Only two or three of each year's Trainees manage it, and those lucky souls have been lifted to a place of honor in Valdemarian society. A place where they are among the elite guard of their Monarch and Country. A place where they can call themselves "Heralds"...

IN DREAMS
Prologue: I'm Still Here
By Senashenta

A shriek, torn from an equine throat, echoed in the night.

It was a warning to the others, and in the utter silence that followed it there was no doubt that they had heard. The tortured sound had cut through the cold air of the Pelagiris like a knife, leaving no heart unaware of the agony behind it.

Please… please, I just want to die…

The Spirit threw her head back, even as a thick rope dropped around her neck, choking a second scream off before it could be voiced, and the one that was already snagged on her back legs tightened, yanking them out from under her. She was helpless, now, and in the face of what she knew was coming, she could only wish for the ultimate gift from the Gods. If only the Shadow-Lover would come for her… before…

She was dragged bodily across the ground, which was still half-frozen with frost from the night, and in the pale light of the approaching dawn, she vanished into the forest, her struggles having been forcefully ceased.

From the shadows beyond where the swift and terrifying attack had occurred, a pair of crystal eyes glittered sadly as a silent watcher turned from the scene and ghosted away between the trees, already reaching his mind out into the fading night.

:Another one has been taken, Aterya.:

:Who?:

:Sashara. Sashara is gone.:

Silence, then; :five in the last moon, then. Our numbers are dwindling.:

:Yes.: A momentary pause. :Is there nothing we can do?:

There was a sadness in the reply. :I fear not on our own, Lyntar.:

:Then, what..?:

:I know not. We can only wait for our Fate to claim us.:

:Aterya, you can't mean to just stand by and let the Shadows run us into nothingness!:

No response came, and after a moment the young Spirit withdrew his mind. It was clear that his Elder had no intention of continuing the conversation. Snorting, he stopped walking long enough to crush a tiny treeling, which was just beginning to come into the world, under his front hooves.

He was angry. With Aterya, with the Shadows, with the fact that he had been born a Spirit in the first place—and he was particularly angry with himself, for being able to do nothing but watch while Sashara was taken.

He was a worthless coward, a wretched, flea-bitten windbag, and certainly not worthy of being called a Spirit at all. He should have done something—anything—to keep Sashara from falling victim to the Shadows.

There was nothing I could do.

Finally, with the sapling crushed into mulch under his feet, his anger gave way to sadness, and then to a stony resolve.

If Aterya won't do anything to stop it… I will.