Amara is sleeping.
She's dreaming.
Not dreams of her future,
But of her many pasts.
She's dreaming of a time
Before time mattered so much.
Days before roles.
Before acts.
Before stories.
Vignettes of time before
Captains, kings, or allegiances.
When loyalties owed only to friends
In the shape of paws
And Stars Sent from the stars.
And then from the stars,
A star fell
And a second past emerged from the rubble.
Shea, Lilacs, and Azure Mist.
She dreams of when she ran away.
Away from this past.
The first.
But not the last.
Amara's dreaming of her fresh start.
A third past.
The promises,
The oaths,
The rules that came with,
The mistakes she wouldn't make,
And the slips she would not repeat.
Then allegiance arose.
Fealty to Duty, Honor, and Glory
.But no stranger to human weakness,
It ended in broken promises,
Tarnished honor,
And a second flight.
She fled from pain
But found neither comfor
tNor relief.
And she forgot long ago
Why she ran a second time,
To spend an Era alone.
Then her demons came.
A fourth, and uncertain life.
When the Hero in Black
Cast them out.
But the Hero could not banish them forever.
Too soon to be spared,
The Child of Dark Hair
Followed.
Amara is dreaming
Of when she swore
Never returning.
Promised herself freedom.
And explored the world of the demons.
Twice she made the promise.
And twice she broke it.
Now she is awake.
The sole survivor of her visions.
She is cold
To know only she is left
To remember the dreams.
She fell from the stars.
She ran from the mist.
She broke the promise.
And in many ways,
She killed the Hero in Black.
Only she remains
To remember the colors
Of her four pasts
Within eleven dreams.
