This time, at the very least, I was able to recognize that I was dreaming.

It didn't feel like I was dreaming, not in a physical sense, but even though the sensations were as intense as waking ones, I couldn't control my own body. I was along for the ride, not directing the scene, and any attempt to exercise my autonomy was futile.

I supposed I should just watch and wait.

Calen was there again, but this time we were in a small house. It looked like a two room space with only a kitchen and a bedroom. A cozy fire roared in the fireplace, an iron kettle on a hook over the flames. I sat on a wooden stool in front of the fire. Calen, dressed entirely in black, was on one knee in front of me.

"We could change it, my love," he begged, taking my hands in his. "We could make this world better."

"And we will," I said. "The slow way. We'll spread our magic, teach the craft, work with the Sylvans—"

"Work with the Sylvans?" he scoffed. "They've practically pushed humans to the point of extinction."

"And our Goddess has made certain that we will survive it," I said carefully. "The Veil she placed will work, and it will grow stronger with each full moon."

"And what of our descendants? What of humans with magic?" he pressed. "They will have no place in the divided new world.

I turned to look at the far side of the room, and I realized there was something there I hadn't noticed before: a cradle.

A cradle that housed a sleeping baby— no, wait. Two sleeping babies.

"They will be a bridge for the worlds, darling," I said, feeling a smile cross my face.

I watched the sleeping child for a moment, a sense of peace settling into my bones. Somewhere, some witch version of me in the past had hope that I couldn't muster right now. It was a nice reminder that even in the darkest of times, there was still light to be found.

"Then I'm sorry, but you've given me no choice."

I turned back to Calen only to feel an overwhelming, hot pain in my chest. I cried out, automatically doubling over and clutching at my clothes.

My hands came away bloody.

When I looked up, Calen was staring at me with sorrow in his eyes and a hunting knife in his hands.

"What—" I tried to ask, but I couldn't finish for the pain.

"If you can't understand what's at stake here, I'll have to make you understand in the next life!" he cried, lashing out again with the knife. From the corner, the baby started to cry. On instinct, I turned towards her, reaching out, but my knees gave way and I hit the floor.

"Don't do this—" I tried again, reaching for my children— my daughters— but it was no use.

"Don't worry. I'll take care of them."

I cried out and tried to shove him away as he knelt above me, pressing me down to the floor. He shook his head as he raised the knife again, and I knew that this time it was the end. My wounds were already deep. Healing magic could save me, but I was fading fast, and Calen had the upper hand. If I managed to heal one wound, he would just inflict three more in the same span of time.

I was done.

This was what I got for not checking the Threads. Shouldn't I have been able to see this coming from my own husband? Shouldn't I have been able to see it even without the Threads?

It was hot and painful and over and over and—

I was screaming so loudly that my throat was raw, unable to stop myself until I ran out of air. My entire body was shaking as I gasped for breath, vision blurry and senses distorted. Everything was too hot and too cold all at once, my hair tangled and falling in my face as I struggled to breathe.

That was when the pain hit.

I groaned, clutching at my arm, surprised when my hand came away warm and wet.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

I couldn't tell who was speaking right away, but it felt like my left wrist was on fire as the room came back into view around me.

That was the point at which I realized that the warm, wet part of my hand was the part coated in my own blood, and that there were two puncture marks on my left wrist. I looked up, eyes locking with Dante, who was standing over me with a panicked expression and blood on his mouth.

"Y— you bit me!" I shrieked, looking back and forth between him and my arm.

"I know, and I'm sorry," Dante said. "You were screaming, and we couldn't snap you out of it."

Oh.

Oh, shit. Oh, fuck.

I forced myself to breathe slowly and calmly, trying my best to ground myself. I wasn't sure what was happening with these dreams, but this was probably something I should look into whenever we got home. For now... that was bad.

They couldn't wake me up?

I needed to ask a divination witch about this, and soon. Dreams that you couldn't wake up from weren't usually dreams— they were visions of some kind.

"Nightmare," I said. "I'm sorry. I'm glad you snapped me out of it."

Dante moved closer, gently putting his hand on my shoulder in a kind of silent comfort. I wanted to hug him, to lean into that comfort, but...

I didn't want to look at the glowing light between us, at the Thread that seemed to form of its own volition. I didn't want to see the golden band there, I didn't like the confusion in the pit of my stomach from the warm, serene, calming glow coming from it.

I didn't like the contrast with the passionate fire that seemed to radiate from the thick, braided cord that I knew led to Calen. The crystalline braid pulsed with raw emotion, sheer feeling, attraction about to explode, and a draw I couldn't ignore.

What was happening to me?

"A nightmare we couldn't wake you from?" Calen asked suspiciously. "That's not mundane, Sunday. That's magic. We clearly need to leave."

"No one in this place would hurt you," Dante snapped. "You're both under the formal protection of the Council while you're here."

"Right, because the formal protection stopped the barrier incidents, too—" Calen began, but I wasn't having it. I couldn't take any more after that dream.

"It's the middle of the night," I interrupted, raising my voice over theirs. "We aren't going anywhere right now. No one is in danger."

That was enough to shut them both up, at least. Calen had strong opinions, yes, and valid worries, but I couldn't handle it right now. Not after... whatever that was.

"You can go back to your room. I'll wait until a guard arrives, and they'll stay posted outside all night," Dante said, hand still on my shoulder. As rattled as I was that he had to bite me to snap me out whatever that was, I was grateful he'd done it. I was even more grateful that he was basically shooing Calen out of the room, because I wasn't quite ready to look at him after that.

Whatever these dreams were, that was the shittiest one yet.

"I'm not just going to leave her—" Calen began, tone clipped and volume rising.

"Go. I'll be fine," I said, waving him off, but I couldn't meet his eyes. I wanted to trust him, I did, but I also couldn't look at him after that dream. I couldn't bring myself to see his face and remember it twisted into something unfamiliar, something hateful, something... evil.

Calen came closer and bent down, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

"You say one word if you need me, and I'll come running, okay?" He gently brushed my tangled hair out of my face as he spoke.

All I could do was nod.

I didn't look up until I heard the door click. Dante must have seen the tension leave my shoulders, because he walked a little closer to where I was perched on the edge of the bed.

"Can I sit?"

I nodded, patting the spot. He perched beside me, though his long legs meant that his feet actually touched the floor. My legs dangled as I gently leaned against his side, just wanting someone close to help keep me grounded in reality.

I wasn't sure what to do, but sitting next to Dante felt nice for now.

"Can I heal you?" he asked, gently picking up my left arm.

"You didn't ask for permission to bite me, but you're asking for healing permission?"

"I am," he said. "I didn't have a choice before, unfortunately. I can't say it's my preference to bite unsuspecting victims. Now... can I heal you?"

"Yeah," I whispered, nodding.

He gently brought my arm up to his mouth, lapping at the wound with his tongue. It was weird that it felt comforting, that my heart rate calmed more than raced. Maybe it was something about vampire saliva— hadn't Dante mentioned a chemical reaction something-or-other before?

I was too tired to think on it, though. I knew he'd asked permission before healing me both times, though. That told me enough about his character.

"Honor is a big deal to you, isn't it?" I asked as he pulled away. The puncture holes on my arm were completely healing, almost like they'd never been there at all.

"Personal integrity is everything. If you don't live by any code, not even your own, then how can you know who you are?" he said without hesitation. He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and examined my arm momentarily, making sure everything was in order.

"All good," I said with a shaky smile that certainly did not reach my eyes.

Dante wasn't buying it, and rightfully so.

"Do you know what that was, Sunday?" he asked carefully. "Do you have any idea at all why we couldn't wake you?"

Not enough to say anything about it, no.

"I... A nightmare," I said firmly.

"You're sure?"

I glanced at the door, gaze following the way that Calen had just left.

"I'm sure," I whispered.

I wasn't sure.