"They believe that other draconians still live aboveground, hiding their curse. Our king believes that once we are all imprisoned here, amid the roots of Great Shenhavan, the nightmares will end."

Alina looked around her, and her eyes widened. She had not seen it at first, but now she moved around the chamber, gazing with awe. The roots of a great tree grew all around them, framing the chamber like the bars of a cage. Of course—the roots of Shenhavan. The great tree itself imprisoned them here. She recognized the source of the power she had first felt when entering this place; it had not flowed from the prisoners but from the roots of the old tree. Only it was not a tree at all, at least not like any other tree in the world. This was a being far older than trees, a being of many planes of awareness, seeing from many eyes, its tendrils of thought digging deep. Its roots were like eyes, like thoughts themselves, always digging, seeing, hearing, sensing. Even now they sensed her, and Alina approached one root and placed her ear against it.

She winced and cried out in pain. A shock like a bolt of lightning shook her body. She yelped and fell.

"Alina!" Dorvin rushed forward and knelt beside her. "Alina, what in the Abyss?"

She shook, eyes wide, tongue dry. Her legs convulsed. The pain! The fear! Tears filled her eyes. "It's hurting, Dorvin. It's sensing too much. Too much. Its nerves are exposed, raw, wounded, feeling everything. Everything." Her tears streamed. "All its filters are removed, all the stimulus is overwhelming, overflowing, eyes that cannot be closed, thoughts that never end." Her voice faded into a hoarse whisper. "It's feeling us now, feeding upon us, and it wants to stop. It cannot. They dug too deep."

Dorvin held her and shook her. "Alina! What in the name of all gods are you talking about?"

"She's having a nightmare," Maev said. "It's hitting her even here."

Alina shook her head. No. No, this was no nightmare. This was too real, too raw. "Let me speak to him." She struggled to rise, still shaking. "Let me speak to Shenhavan."

She approached one of the roots, wincing at the pain emanating from it. She braced herself and placed her forehead against it. She gasped as its presence flowed into her. She whispered into it, not whispering with her mouth but letting her thoughts flow into the root.

Hello, Old One.

It replied with many voices. It hurts us. We are exposed.

I know, Old One. You hear too much.

We hear it all! They dug too deep. They opened our nerves. The diggers. They removed our soil, our flesh. They were afraid. We heard them.

Alina placed her hand upon a root. You dreamed of them.