The Sun Born: Nightshade
by Cecily Flynn
“You’re only a dream,” Ana said sadly. His eyes changed from teasing and sweet to serious, dark stones, worry creasing his brow. Their swirling dance slowed to a stop, and he held her for a moment at arm’s length. “Ana,” he said, his voice smooth and resonant, as familiar as the low moan of a cello. The tiny hairs on her arms and neck rose electrically as he spoke: “Nothing is as it seems."