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The room was quiet, dark except for the soft glow of the lamp. Kahlil stirred beside her, reaching for her trembling hand.
“It was a nightmare,” she whispered, pressing her palm against her chest. “Just a nightmare.”
And then the square. Trafalgar Square, drowned in flags, chants rolling like thunder. Cole’s voice blared from screens: One nation. One destiny. Isla squeezed Ellie’s hand, but her face was blurred by the light.
The crowd surged. Ellie tried to scream, but no sound left her throat. The banners snapped louder, the chants closer, her vision closing in until the world was nothing but noise and colour.
She gasped — and woke.
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