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Dreams were thick and heavy on the first night in the City. He kept waking from them, sometimes sweating, sometimes panting. His old past, his old future, and the great expanse of possibility now before him was a muddled mess in his head, and the result was the strangest of subconscious adventures. None of them were prescient; those visions came during the day.

But after creeping into the kitchen, moving as quietly as he could for fear of waking Oswin in her corner in the living room, and after a long and cool drink of water from the miraculous tap, Leto again returned to his bed.

This time, the dream was different. There was a dark-haired girl with dark and wide eyes in the center of a vast, grassy expanse. She was smirking at him, but in such a way that it seemed an invitation.

Leto tilted his chin to the left and walked toward her. She drifted backward without moving. He stopped, then, and held out his hand instead. "I will not harm you."

It seemed important to say. He knew the fear that his family inspired. The anger. The hatred. The worship. The wretched, blind worship. "I promise."