Sacha Santos

“Tell me the truth. Is there a way Elspeth and I will meet again on this side of the veil?” The answer was a cold, deafening silence. Ravyn squeezed his eyes shut and bit down so hard his jaw seized. He felt like he was back in the meadow, a knife in his side, bleeding out. Then, soft as a shifting breeze through yew branches, the Nightmare answered. “Only one.” Ravyn opened his eyes. The Nightmare stood before him like he had in his bedroom. Hand extended, palm open. And the Nightmare Card therein. “Destroy it,” he whispered. “With the final Nightmare Card gone, my soul will disappear. Her degeneration will have nothing to cling to. She will return. And I…” His voice faded. “I will finally rest.” Ravyn reached for the Nightmare Card, hands shaking. “Destroy this, and Elspeth returns?” “Yes.” Something hot touched Ravyn’s relief. “You’re telling me I’ve had the means to free her all this time?” The Nightmare grinned. “Yes.” “You didn’t—Why—” He pinched his nose, swallowing fury. “You make it so hard not to hate you.” “I had my Deck to collect. History to revisit—and rewrite. A path to draw for you and the Princeling, both of you Kings in your own right.” The Nightmare clung only a moment longer to his namesake Card, then released it into Ravyn’s hand. “And I was not yet ready to bid Elspeth goodbye.”
― Rachel Gillig, Two Twisted Crowns