When I dream, I dream of her.

Tossing and turning, trying to forget, yet it remained.

Sometimes I’ll dream, and sometimes it’ll just be a flicker in a sea of memories. Just a flicker.

Sometimes.

Then sometimes, in those dreaded times, it’ll be more than just a flicker.

I used to enjoy sleeping. Loved it, even.

Now though? Sad to say, my dear sleep… but I really think we should start seeing other people.

You’re a nightmare to deal with. Literally.

I see fangs. I hear screams. I feel pain. In my restless dreams. All of them, just a full-on assault on the senses, pulsating throughout my body. It’s enough to make anybody wake up in a cold sweat. Dreams of a malevolent being’s claws sinking down to your chest.

But, strangely enough, I didn’t dread the vampire. Instead, I dreaded the emerald-green eyes that lurked behind the vampire.

And those same emerald-green eyes were ever recurring. I hated that I dreamed of her that way.

I hated that I dreamt of her now.

The latest construct my mind had crafted consisted of Ash, a sword, and me dying.

Two plus two equals four. I’ll leave the answer to how I ended up dying unsaid. Doesn’t take an Einstein to solve that math equation.

Yet no matter the formula or method of the dreams, the results would always come out the same way every time.

Me, waking up with a start, wet in the face, gasping for breaths I did not need. Afterward, I would survey the bedroom, the darkness dimly lit by the 7-in-the-morning sun.

Sometimes, nothing. Other times…

“GOD!”

I’ll scream, I’ll reel back and, sometimes I’ll even end up bashing my skull against the wooden headboard. In this case, I hit my head so hard the bed vibrated from the impact.

Then, as I sat there, aching and moaning in the midst of a rude awakening, a voice would sound. Quiet, reserved… and almost trance-like.

“No… God…”

What an ominous statement.

Through sight blurred with tears, I’d stare at the unblinking set of misty eyes staring at me from the end of my bed. As my heartbeat settled itself back from the verge of an explosion, I’d take a deep breath and begin the day just as I have many times before.

“Adalia,” I said. “Fourth time this week. I wake up and you’re staring at me. Fourth. Don’t make a fifth, please.”

“I’m… sorry…” She hung her head. “But I… worry that I… will…”

“Frenzy,” I finished for her. “I know, I know.”

“Apologies…”

“It’s fine, all good…” I sighed and began rolling back my sleeve, stretching out towards her a smooth patch of bare skin, ripe for a feasting. “Go crazy. Not literally, I meant… you know what I mean.”

Slowly, she crept her way towards me, her gaze never once breaking away from mine, always that blank far-away gaze that seemed to see more than it should.

I’d feel her faint breathing trickling across the surface of my skin before the shimmering white of her fangs would sink into my flesh once more.

This is how my mornings tend to start out nowadays. It was almost routine by then. Well, you know that they say – A startle a day keeps the heart attacks away. Or at least that’s what Ria keeps telling me. I’m not really inclined on believing her though.

Also when she would feast, it was at surface level. Really, it felt more like a nibble than an actual bite. Compared to the first time, back in that building, her bites now hurt as much as a mosquito’s.

The process doesn’t last all that long either. Ten seconds later, right on the dot, and her fangs will be out of my arm with not a single bite mark visible aside from a little red glow where her fangs had pierced.

“Thank you…” she whispered, stepping to the other end of the room, her movement now flushed with vigor.

Did she walk away? Leave? No. She’ll just be standing there. Gawking. Waiting for me to do something.

Why are vampires so weird?

“Why do you just stand there?” I finally asked after days of repeating the same routine over and over again.

“Waiting,” she replied.

“For?”

“To see… if you die…”

That snapped me right awake. “What – wait, you’re telling that that love bite could have killed me?! You’ve been chewing on me for a week and a half now, you’re saying any one of those times could have been the last?!”

“Sometimes… when I eat… people die…” she explained with all the enthusiasm of a coffee lover sipping on tea. “That’s why… I wait…”

Had a flashback to my first resurrection, and I think I can somewhat understand what she’s trying to say.

“You’re saying you’ll save me?”

Adalia nodded her head, her glance slightly angling to the firmly closed door to the side, whispering, “Ash will save you…”

I followed her gaze, my eyebrows furrowing. “She’s by the door?”

Another nod.

“Wha – again?”

“Always…”

Off went the blankets that bundled me snug, thud went the floorboards as my feet pressed against it. Went to draw open the curtains – stopped – figured Adalia wouldn’t really appreciate me flashbanging her with the sun – and instead decided to just make a beeline to the bedroom door.

As I twisted the doorknob, I figured there wasn’t a better time for the usual morning greeting.

“Morning, Adalia,” I said.

I heard her reply from behind, as the door swung open with a creak.

“Good morning… Son of Terestra…”

Don’t know why I was still surprised. Don’t know why it wasn’t on the list of things I should come to expect.

Nevertheless, I was surprised. Still, I didn’t expect.

Arms wrapped around her knees, huddling in the narrow corridor that led to my bedroom door, Ash was fast asleep with her head slumped against the wall. Her blade lying by her side.

Guard duty. Ninth day in a row.

Lost count of how many times I told her it wasn’t necessary anymore yet still she does so anyway.

Didn’t count the times when I would catch her sleeping on the job, however, but if I had to make a guess… fifth, sixth, maybe?

Evidently, she wasn’t very good at guard duty despite her constant insistence on it.

But leave it to her to pick up on the most unexpected of things. Took one step, one step that could have won the record for world’s tiniest creak, and still, her ears came perking upward.

Then faster than you could say, ‘Hey, you, you’re finally awake.’, She’d be already up on her feet, the sword clutched firmly in her grasp, scouring the vicinity with eyes ever vigilant.

Ever seen a pajama-wearing, sword-wielding, hair-in-a-tangled-mess-ing Elf before? No? Well, you’re welcome.

“Morning,” I said, greeting her with the warmest smile I could then muster.

She spun around, saw me, saw my smile, then immediately looked the other way.

In a voice less than a whisper, she muttered, “Good… good morning, Master.”

I felt my smile slowly slip away. “You… slept well?”

“Yes, I have,” I heard her draw in a big breath. “What of yourself?”

Sword. Ash. Death. Only a flicker.

“Yes,” I answered. “Good sleep.”

“I see…” Another intake of breath. “Splendid news.”

She didn’t sound too splendid, though.

“I noticed you’re still guarding over my door,” I took a step forward. “Didn’t we already agree it wasn’t necessary anymore?”

She took a step backward. “Indeed.”

“So, why…?” One step forward.

Two steps back. “It’s necessary…”

Not one, not two – but many hurried steps now. Ones that brought her further away from reach. To the other end of the corridor, striding into a doorway slamming shut, Ash went and disappeared from sight.

Well, that went well…