I open my eyes and look around my room—blast that ranger who kidnapped me back to this level of the nine hells of the Crownsilver estate—something is strange. My bed and lace sheets are gone. My walls are gone. Instead, I’m standing in the middle of a battlefield full of the dead. More magic? Is my room one of those ‘thin places’ where we can cross over? No, that’s not right…everything is surreal, like it is not really there. It’s a dream, just like Moonbeam described. I tried to focus on details – the cut of the armor on some of the dead; it’s from Myth Drannor! I can’t touch them; they fade away, practically melt away. I walk through the legion of dead in the field, but cannot seem to make any more identifications. Before long, the entire dream melts away and I awake in a heavy sweat in my sheets, my mind decided; to stop this vision of the death, I will escape my father and his wicked ambitions again, with the help of that merchant’s son.
Somethings is growing in me, the very idea that I must be forced into marriage is horrible. I want to be free, and am beginning to see that everyone should have freedom. Freedom to chose how they live, who they are with, and what they do. Eventually when I return to my Drullyndra, I hope our friend the tailor has some new leads on that slavery ring.