Emrys Vale
The lullaby is broken. For one hour, the whole world dreamed the same dream -- a vast, gentle attention turning it over like a stone in a hand, and liking what it saw. Now the frays walk toward the center of the world: roads end ten yards left of themselves, whole towns remember festivals that never happened, and small children stop in the street to listen to nothing, smiling.In the Emberhold, the matriarch is dying, the choir is down to ten voices, and the Court demands its vessel: Kestrel, nineteen, ash-marked, the girl the dream has noticed by name. She refuses to be given. Instead she will descend into the dream itself, pay its prices in memory, and do the one thing no one has ever done -- tell the Unwaking a story.
