Every night for three years, Wren dreams of the same man dying.
She's watched him drown, burn, bleed out, fall. She's memorized his face down to every scar — scars she's seen form in real time. She's filled an entire sketchbook with his portrait. She doesn't know his name.
Then he moves into the cabin next door.
Cal is real. The scars match. The crooked smile she knows from Dream #23 is right there on his mouth. And the moment their fingers accidentally brush, she's pulled into a waking vision of his death so violent it leaves her with a nosebleed.
To be near him is safe. To touch him is to watch him die.
But proximity has a cost of its own. A parasitic entity called the Tether has been feeding on Cal since the night he flatlined on an operating table — and now it's building a bridge into Wren. The closer they get, the stronger it grows. Walking away might save her. Staying will almost certainly kill one of them.
Every previous case ended the same way: the Seer dies, or the Host dies, or both.
No one has ever tried the third option.
"That's the first future anyone's ever shown me that I wanted."