Chapter 7

I'm having trouble sleeping the first night in my new bed. So many times, I wake up drenched in a cold sweat. I'm seventeen, and I've heard it's normal to dream about your mate before you turn eighteen, but my dreams aren't romantic in the slightest.

All the events of today: my father getting his memories erased, by bump into Blake, finding out my grandmother might hide the truth about my mother's death, and then get sorted into the air house—got my mind spinning in circles.

I close my eyes again, determined to fall back asleep, and almost immediately, I'm pulled back into dreamland.

This dream is calmer and less chaotic—I'm sitting on top of my bed with the moonlight coming in through an open window.

The scene is beautiful, but something is odd. I have the vision of everything happening around me, but my emotions aren't my own; it's like I'm sharing them with someone else.

Is this a vision of the future?

Something rustles, and I turn