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Montay’s dream shifted from happy times with his sister, Ferah, and the vow they’d made to each other to always have each other’s back, no matter how much they fought.

What replaced the dream was more like a hallucination that shifted from bright colors of summer moonlight to a murky, distorted dream of he and Jimann together after Ferah had parted ways with him, and the verbal poison hidden in honeyed words, poured into the porches of his ears (as it were).

He rolled in his snake nest of burlap, moaning in agony and fear, barely noticing the sound of the shed door opening, and the soft steps of someone entering, the sensation of the shed warming with a gentle, strong presence.

In a flash, he began to doubt his resolve in killing his sister and wondered where the idea had come from in the first place; had he truly forgotten his vow to his sister?

Just as quickly, another entity pushed back his opening up to Ferah’s presence; cold and commanding, Jimann’s voice split hard inside Montay’s head: “Remember your purpose, remember your reward.” A vision, both carnal and terrifying, followed and banished the sense of comfort he’d had just moments before.

© Liz Husebye Hartmann (2026)

(To be continued)