see Den’ga, but I can sense him. He’s still thousands of miles away, perhaps millions. He’s coming—and soon—but I don’t think it will be during this battle. He’s only here to watch.

I don’t leave the real world, but instead, the dream and reality merge, one placed atop the other like opaque images shot in different spectrums.

     In the dream, Siron turns to face her children. In the real world, she stands stock still. In both realities, she glares at the five children that have all banded against her.

She towers over them in the physical plane, looking down her chin like a scornful old woman ready to tell off bratty children playing on her lawn. She wants to make them go away, to send them back to the ocean. Whether or not...

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