Alena

“Who are you?” I demand, my stance defiant, though my pulse quickens.

“An echo of the past… a harbinger of truth,” the figure’s voice resonates, neither male nor female, but imbued with a haunting familiarity.

“Speak plainly!” I curl my fingers, instinctively summoning the darkness to my defense.

“Your nightmares, they are memories, child,” the entity speaks, stepping closer, its form blurring at the edges. “Memories of a heritage long ...