She closed her eyes as saliva filled her mouth at sensing the struggle. The cries. The pleadings. The sobs. The eventual despair and capitulation. The prolonged death. Sensing it so strongly, with each passing moment that sensation growing to the point she could hear the cries and see the struggles…

And watch the death.

She would find them.

Oh, she would.

She would find them all and the things she’d do.

The things they would do.

It came, not as normal—a hum, like a lullaby, soothing her mind and soul, but further heating her skin.

Instead, it was a small trembling, not the likes of what was felt in the beginning of the quakes.

Something different.

Something Marian fancied was not about her destiny.

Or perhaps it was.

Something she did not like in the slightest.

That trembling came and was gone so fast, it was almost like it did not happen at all.

And then…

Nothing.

Moments fell into minutes and more and more of them ticked by and there was still nothing.

No hum.

No lullaby.

As she waited even longer, she grew concerned.

Was he angry at her?

On this thought, suddenly, she cried out as she found her waist captured in a strong grip on either side.

This hold coming from below.

But by what?

She could not then find an answer to that question as she was instead finding herself drawing dirt into her throat instead of air.

She closed her mouth, her eyes, as she went down when there was no down to go.

But she was going.

Down, into the earth, the roots of trees scraping her flesh.

Down deeper, her lungs beginning to burn at holding her breath, her eyes shut tight, her lips drawn in and pressed together by her teeth to keep her mouth closed and not scream in terror.

She did not writhe in the hold on her. She had far more prevalent concerns. And they weren’t simply that she could not breathe.

Primarily, the weight of the dirt on top of her the deeper she fell—or was pulled—was bearing greatly on her.

Like it would crush her bones.

Crush her entire body.

And then she was in free fall and she did cry out, spluttering and spitting out dirt as her body was jarred with a landing.

However, she did not fall to the ground.

She was being held.

Held to…

She shook the dirt from her face, turned her head, opened her eyes and abruptly found herself on her feet as the creature before her took two steps back.

He was very tall.

Lean of frame, but broad of shoulder.

He had golden hair and bright blue eyes.

Winged dark brows and pleasing angular features.

Like her visions.

Just like her dreams.

That gilt head bent, and his voice rumbled forth toward her.

“Patrona.”

Marian’s skin came alive.

“Me Brutum,” she whispered.

He lifted his head and stared directly at her.