HANNAH
I woke with a jolt, eyes wide in the semi-darkness, chest heaving, and sheets clinging to my sweat-soaked skin. My heart slammed painfully against my ribs as I thought of the dream.
No, not a dream.
A nightmare.
Every detail clung to me with horrific clarity—Asher, thin and ghostly pale, half his skull caved in, standing at the edge of a vast abyss.
The surface of it was pitch black, like it swallowed light. I couldn’t see what was inside, but I knew, deep in my bones, that it was crawling with things. Nameless, hungry things.
He had my wrist in a death grip and I couldn’t pull away. With the injuries he had, he shouldn’t have been standing. He shouldn’t have been alive.
But he was.
Glaring at me with eyes full of hate, dragging me toward the edge. His long, yellowed fing
