Trace felt better knowing that Anaisa was awake, and safe… as safe as one could be next to a sleeping homicidal monarch whose dreams could become reality without warning.
Safer than inside the homicidal maniac's dream, at any rate.
"What's going to hurt?" Ben tensed beside Trace.
"This," Trace dashed forward, directly at the firming barrier at the edge of the dream.
He could hear the Emperor's roar behind them, the heat of the enormous being's breath on the back of his neck.
This was all illusion, in a way, but very real in another, more imminent sense.
Usually, leaving a dream was like passing through the edge of a bubble, tenuous and barely noticeable.
This was like hitting a wall at a dead run. Trace strained, pushing Ben ahead of him. The wall gave, little by little, cracking and protesting the attempt to breach it.
Time was short. Trace could wake himself, but he couldn't wake Ben. He should have asked Anaisa–
