Book 2: Charis Prologue

(Note: This is only part of the prologue. The first half of the prologue I am keeping to myself. It reveals too much about the first book and its ending. I don't want to spoil it for anyone.)

Prologue:

Charis bolted upright in bed. Sweat clung to her face, her hair plastered to her skin. She was breathing heavily, coughing, unable to get air. Gasping, she reached for the glass of water she kept by her bedside and took a shaky sip.

The nightmares were too frequent now. Always the same. The world going dark. No air. She felt like she was drowning—but there was no water. It was as if all the light and life-giving air had been stripped from the world, leaving behind only darkness. Only emptiness.

Charis threw off the blankets, got out of bed and grabbed her shawl, needing to calm her nerves. Her husband was gone—working another night shift—so she moved quietly, barefoot, through the house.

It was cold. The fires that had burned through the night were now little more than glowing embers, casting faint shadows across the room. Outside, the street torches were being extinguished one by one, their flickering light replaced by the dim blue hush of early morning. Through the windows, the distant clop of hooves echoed against the cobbled streets—a carriage heading somewhere long before most had stirred. The quiet, undisturbed streets were a good sign. It meant Colin should be home soon—on time, and safe.

Wrapping her shawl around her tighter, Charis checked on her children.

Both were fast asleep, their small forms peaceful in the dim light.

Alive. Safe.

Satisfied, she returned to her bed and lay down, even though sleep didn’t come easily.

Eventually, as the first rays of sun bled across the sky in soft streaks of red, she dozed off—just barely—beneath the slow warmth of the coming dawn.