<<<>>> Aislin felt her heart pounding against her ribs, trying to rouse her and free her from the tethers of fear. The smell of scorched flesh clawed into her nostrils, heightening the sense of panic that skewered her bowels. Another nightmare; it had to be. Just one more smoke-riddled dream where she suffered beneath a shroud of linen, each breath taking in lungfuls of spiced oils and char, bound so tightly she could barely whisper for help. This one was far worse. While those visions grew from a night-addled mind, weaving tales that dissipated with the coming of dawn, this one just grew stronger, gained frightening clarity as she fought for consciousness. Even as she opened her eyes, belly flattened against her mattress, she knew it was no dream. Something was wrong. Memory overlaid sickeningly with the present as she raced through the great house, frantically searching for sight of her sister, her mother, anyone. Barefoot, clad in her night shift with her hair still plaited and tucked beneath a kerchief she checked each room, forcing herself to slow her breathing, pay attention to detail, hoping all the while her senses were being tricked by a waking nightmare.
