Taylor
Jolted from sleep, my heart pounded erratically. My mind fogged over from my restless slumber, sweat beading down my forehead as I tried to catch my breath. The remnants of my crazy dream still lingered in my mind, its images swirling like a chaotic storm brewing off the coast of some small island.
Balder. The name lingered on my lips. A man—no, a god—had come to see me. A god who claimed to be my father. I wanted more than anything to dismiss the entire thing, chalking it up to an overactive imagination, but I couldn’t.
The urgency to tell Tatum what had happened far surpassed anything else I could want in that moment.
Twisted within the sheets and blankets of my bed, I untangled myself and rushed towards the door. I threw it open and stormed across the hall to speak with Tatum. The only problem was he wasn’t there. His pitch black room was silent, and his bed untouched showed no signs that he had been there at all.