A field of white grass under a sky with two moons. In the center, a tree with black bark and crimson leaves. Beneath it, a man neither young nor old, dressed in shadow, with Jude's face. Not smiling. Not angry. Just watching.
When they all awoke, the memory was intact, perfectly shared between them, like it had been carved into their minds.
Sophie was the first to speak. "It wasn't a dream."
"No," Jude said quietly, fingers pressed to his temples. "It was an invitation."
They gathered after breakfast in the wide clearing behind the house, the same place they'd used for training, for rituals, for dances on clear nights. This time, there was no music. Only tension.
"We can't ignore this," Rose said, pacing. "Something is asking for us. Again."
Zoey frowned. "But is it the same force from the Vault, or something else entirely?"
"They're connected," Jude said. "The Vault, the mountain, the dream last night. It's a path. A sequence."