The dreams have not always scared Nerissa. When she was very small, they would mostly tell her trivial things — such as whether Father would be late, or if Henry were to find a peculiar rock to play with. Her dreams were always subtle — her father appearing as an amusing slimer; the carving of a creature leaping off the walls of Regalia to join Henry in his games — but they were at peace.

But as she grew, and as she learned, they grew darker and deeper yet. She saw Hamnet standing in the Arch of Tantalus, hisser and halflander boy by his side, and when she caught him running vacant-eyed from the palace, she told him as much. He brushed her off. The next day, he was missing.

He will be in the Jungle, she had said, as the search parties left the High Hall, but not now. Searching is futile.

They did not listen. They had only humored her visions, never quite believed them.

It is terrifying, to see the thing that stalks in the distance, yet have nobody believe one until it pounces. And even then, claiming to be caught off-guard.

Yes, she had seen the deaths, too. She had seen King Gorger wearing her uncle's crown, and seen Cousin Luxa shivering alone in her vacant, far too spacious quarters. Yet her uncle had crowed, No gnawer shall take my crown.

No, not yet, Nerissa had said, for what she had seen lay years in the future.

And a small part of her even believed him. That her visions were only dreams, and that, as she was not Sandwich, and would never be, she had reason to fret.

When she saw her parents as bones gnawed upon by rats, and awoke to find the palace in disarray and her parents dragging blood across the floor, her disbelief shattered.

Now, she spends most of her days either in bed or curled up in the corner where the Peacemaker is carved upon the wall. Some still do not believe her, but she finds comfort in the fact that Sandwich would have. That he, too, must have shivered in the dark, knowing what horrors were biding their time as those around him laughed and rejoiced. Perhaps he also had sought solace in this very corner, his back against the hope that all suffering has an end.

Nerissa has often seen Henry in her dreams. It is only natural, as he is her brother. But scarce are the days where she sees him at ease.

Often, he cries. He cries and screams into the darkness, but when he turns his head towards the light, he turns silent. His face becomes stone, and even she does not know how it looks when unseen.

When he does not cry, she sees him on the edge of a precipice. The location changes — sometimes, it is in the fliers' land. Sometimes, it is in the gnawers'. And sometimes, it is places she has never seen before.

Her brother is not afraid of heights. To be an Underlander, one must not be. If he falls, he has Ares.

If he falls, he has all of them.

Luxa, Vikus, Aurora, Solovet.

Even Nerissa.

This is the most terrifying part:

Sometimes, she sees him fall.

And they are not the ones who catch him, for they dive towards him, carrying torches.

Henry does not fear in the light.

And he falls into darkness.

In some dreams, he walks away safe. In others, he breaks himself on the rocks.

And in others yet, he is caught, snarls and sounds of gnawing echoing around him.

In either case, the dream always ends with him speaking the same words — I am safe. I am safe, worry you not. I am safe!