Damien lifted his hand and gazed at his palm. His appearance was solid, more flesh than spirit. He was different than those he met. Like he was more cognizant of the dream than the others he encountered.

A woman screamed inside the castle.

Damien twisted and ran toward the sound. He rounded the corner, then staggered to a stop. On the ground lay an elderly woman, her eyes wide and lifeless. Ahead, a robed figure disappeared at the end of the corridor.

He knelt down beside the woman. One of the kitchen staff. He brought his hand up and went to place his fingers on her neck, only to have his hand pass through her before she faded seconds later.

What the—

He stood and stared at the spot. What just happened? He looked around, then back at the spot. What is this place? It was Northwind Castle—and yet not—at the same time.

There were more shouts ahead where the robed figure disappeared. Damien turned and dashed down the hall. Answers. He needed answers. As he reached the end, the dream shifted, and he found himself right inside the main doors.

A dim light moved down the hall to his right, like someone holding a candle. He headed in that direction when something large and black brushed his head and soared along the hallway, disappearing around the corner with the light.

A raven.

Wait. Was Selene dreamwalking in his mind? But what about that feeling, the one that felt as if he were being pulled . . . ?

The temperature dropped inside the hallway. A sudden shiver swept across his body. Damien sucked in a frigid breath and rubbed his arms.

What now?

Long tapered fingers spread across his shoulder as a putrid smell filled his nostrils. “What do we have here?” a hoarse voice whispered in his ear.

Before he could look back, the castle changed. He was now in his bedchamber near the fireplace. The room was swathed in shadows. Selene stood by the window, dressed in a simple white nightgown. She lifted her head and spotted him. Her mouth fell open and she flinched slightly. “D-Damien?”

He glanced down as if to confirm his own body. “Yes.” He looked back up. “What’s going on? Are you dreamwalking inside my mind?”

She slowly shook her head. “No. This is my dreamscape. You shouldn’t be here.” She placed both hands along her temples. “What’s going on? Did she bring you here? And the others?”

“She? Who is ‘she’?”

“Damien, you need to run. You’re in danger. This is not a safe place—”

The door burst open to his right, and a dark figure drifted in, draped in black from head to toe. It was the one he had spotted in the hallways. The air froze within seconds, then filled with that same overpoweringly foul smell as before. Another shiver erupted down his back.

The figure turned toward him. The hood covered the upper half of its face, leaving only the black lips and jaw exposed. White pinpricks peered out where the eyes should be. “You again,” she whispered in a raspy voice.