Void and Shadow Prologue
The dreams were like oil in a wet hand, slipping away the moment he grasped at them. It was infuriating every time. He was his father—a recurrent theme. His father seemed young in the dreams. Old enough to know the cruelty of the world but young enough to think it had a chance to change. No, wait. That wasn’t right. His father always believed it could change. It just wouldn’t in his lifetime. There was blood. Enough to fill buckets by the time the dream was over. So much death. Witnessed, but also exacted. Alphonse bloodied his blade as if the steel itself thirsted for it. Wastelanders nearing Freztad, cut down before they reached the village, its people never knowing about their secret savior. Early Ænærians, the first among the Rhion, torn asunder by the Voidsweeper after an ageless woman handed it to him. A woman Ben knew was his mother. The love in his heart for her was more powerful than any bit of strength he’d carried as a Nephilim. Or was that love his father’s, rather than
