Sarai gripped his hand. “Do you think you’re the only one who has had the dream?” “Dream?” managed Sol. She sighed and sat at the white kitchen table. Morning light struck the plants on the sill like a yellow spotlight. “The dark place,” she said. “The red lights above. The voice. Telling us to…telling us to take…to go to Hyperion. To make…an offering.” Sol licked his lips but there was no moisture there. His heart pounded. “Whose name…whose name is called?”
