The dream began as it always did. With Mikael falling to his death. That was how she knew she was dreaming. She knew her mate was alive. She knew he had survived the fall. She knew the male who stood before her now was dead. She was the one who'd driven a stone blade through his skull.

She knew, and yet, the dream kept coming. It never changed. She relived those terrible moments over and over again. There was no relief. There was no end. Again and again and again.

"Say goodbye, Bastard Lordling." Ze'ev's voice grew more unnerving each time she heard it. It was coarse and rough. Low and dark. It was the voice of a male who was dead. Of a male who controlled the dead. 

Mikael clawed at Ze'ev's hand, wrapped around his throat. His eyes rolled back in his head. She knew what was coming. She was screaming already. Ze'ev hurled Mikael's body over the cliff, and she fell to her knees near the edge, unsure of when she'd even begun to run.

    He survived. He survived. He survived.

    The words rang empty in her ears. Mikael was gone. Her mate was gone, dead at the bottom of the gorge. His bones shattered, his neck broken, blood pooling beneath him. His feathered wings, as beautiful and white as freshly fallen snow, crushed and mangled beneath him.

    Ze'ev grabbed her by the throat, lifting her off the ground. She didn't struggle. She didn't try to fight. She stared into his empty black eyes. At the pale hollow features with protruding black veins. At the monster he had become. She stared at the face that haunted her. At the face she could not forget.

    "I told you I would kill him," Ze'ev sneered. "And as for you..." Inky black magic swirled around his fingers as he lifted his free hand. "I am going to tear you to pieces."

    He grabbed her face with his glowing hand, and she began screaming anew as her skin peeled itself from her bones. Ze'ev was laughing. She was screaming. She clawed at his hands, at her own face, her nails digging into her exposed flesh. Through her screams, through his laughs, she heard a distant cry. It sounded familiar. It sounded like...

◦═══✦═══◦

   "Batsy, wake up!"

    Estelle jolted awake, kicking her legs and screaming as she clawed at her face. "Batsy. Estelle! It was a dream." Mikael grabbed her hands, forcing them away from her face. His chestnut eyes were wide with concern. "It was a dream." Her cheeks stung as Estelle pried her hands away from Mikael and bolted to the bathroom.

    She crashed to her knees beside the toilet and vomited, trembling with fear. Shadows brushed across her shoulders and squeezed her arms, whispering words of comfort. We tried to reach you, they said, but we couldn't this time. We are sorry.

    Estelle didn't reply. She gripped the rim of the toilet hard enough to whiten her knuckles. Soft footsteps rustled behind her. "Don't touch me," she rasped as Mikael knelt behind her.

    "It was just another dream," Mikael murmured. "You're all right, Batsy." He stroked the Mating Bond gently. Estelle reached for the gleaming strand in her chest.

    That sensation and the nickname grounded her, but only slightly. She didn't remember her own name when she was stuck in the dream. She didn't recognize it, even when Mikael shouted it in her ear. They'd discovered that she knew Batsy and could always hear it, no matter how bad the dream was, so that was what Mikael yelled now when he was trying to wake her. It's what he called her when he tried to soothe her.

    Estelle flushed the toilet and stood on shaking legs. She rinsed her mouth out repeatedly in the sink, then paused, catching sight of her reflection. Her cheeks were raw with deep scratches. Blood welled up along several of them. Mikael waited behind her, combing his fingers through curly brown hair.

    Estelle was grateful for the short length of her own dark locks. It was even shorter than Mikael's. Had it been long, she knew it would be stuck to the sweat running down her back, and even the thought of that feeling was enough to overstimulate her.

    Already, her scratches were beginning to heal, thanks to the accelerated healing abilities she possessed, due to being half Illyrian. Estelle tucked her wings closer to her back. "Did I hurt you?" She asked.

    "No," Mikael replied.

    She sensed his hesitation and glanced over her shoulder. "What did I do?" Estelle's gaze dipped down to his hands. Mikael hid them behind his back. What did I do to him? She asked the shadows. Tell me, now.

    There are scratches on his arms and burns on his hands. You summoned your magic. It took the form of electricity again, they explained. He is healing himself now.

    Estelle slumped to the floor, covering her face with her hands. Tears ran down her cheeks, stinging the unhealed scratches as they fell. Mikael crouched in front of her. "Let me tend to those, Love."

    Estelle relented. Mikael's touch was gentle as he tilted her chin up. He furrowed his brows, brushing his fingers down her cheeks. His magic surfaced with a golden hue. Estelle's skin tickled as it knit itself back together.

    "I'm sorry," she whispered, lowering her gaze. "I don't know why this keeps happening."

    "Don't apologize. You can't help it." Mikael pulled her against his bare chest, hugging her tightly. Estelle traced the swirling golden tattoos, akin to her own black ones, that were inked onto his sunkissed brown skin. "What happened this time?"

    "The same as usual. It started on Ramiel. Ze'ev threw you into the mountain pass and grabbed me. He started to rip me apart using his magic." Mikael  said nothing, but pressed his cheek to her temple. He stroked her hair softly. His concern rippled across the Bond. She breathed in his comforting scent, morning dew and crisp mountain air.

    Estelle let him hold her a little longer, before pulling away. She left the bathroom and Mikael followed. Estelle grabbed a book off a nearby table, heading towards the balcony. She flung the glass doors open and dropped onto a marble bench. The night was warm with the height of spring.

    Mikael leaned against the doorframe, watching her. "Are you going to stay out long?"

    Estelle shook her head. "I'm going to read until I feel calmer. The night, the stars, will help. Could you bring me two of my siphons?"

    Mikael nodded and disappeared into the bedroom. When he returned, he held two circular gold gems attached to a pair of wrist length fingerless gloves. Estelle slid the gloves on and felt her magic calm with just the mere presence of only two siphons. She manifested it into a small ball of light and cracked her book open.

    Estelle began to read, letting the familiar words and warm evening breeze soothe her tempestuous spirit. Mikael lingered in the doorway, as she knew he would. He would stay until she came inside, or until she ordered him away. She would do neither. His steadfast presence was comforting, as it had always been.

◦═══✦═══◦

    Mikael rubbed his eyes wearily as he sat in an armchair across from his father. Thesan studied him, concern weighing heavily in his eyes. They'd come to the library to speak after breakfast, while Estelle and Ameer traveled to the Peregryn training grounds.

    Mikael knew neither of his fathers had heard Estelle's episode last night. He began shielding their room every night after the first few times she had the nightmare, so that her screams only woke him. He didn't want his fathers or guards to come running. He didn't want Estelle to feel ashamed amidst the fear and panic already induced by her nightmares.

    "Estelle had another nightmare," Mikael sighed. "I don't know what to do. This has gone on for about eight months, and Ze'ev died two years ago. I don't understand why this is happening now. It seems like it should've happened right after he died."

    "Perhaps she's struggling with something from her past. She had history with him beyond the Blood Rite."

    "I know." Mikael clasped his hands together, resting his chin against them.

    His mate's history with Ze'ev dated back over a century. She'd been kidnapped by him and his family, and used as bait in a trap set for her father, Azriel. She'd seen them torture her father. Ze'ev had raped her while his father and brothers forced Azriel to watch. They'd tried to clip her wings, to saw them off entirely, using faebane chains. Estelle had snapped and killed Ze'ev's father and brothers, and during the Rite, she'd killed Ze'ev.

    One of Estelle's shadows, Umbra, tightened around Mikael's arm. He stroked the shadow gently. "It could also be that the lack of answers surrounding that whole ordeal is bothering her," Thesan said. "The original investigation didn't turn up anything, if I recall correctly."

    Mikael nodded. "We don't know how Ze'ev learned necromancy or where he got his hands on black siphons. We don't know how he passed through the wards on Ramiel and was able to fly, use magic, and carry weapons." Thesan appeared thoughtful. "What do you think I should do?"

    "Maybe she needs to return to the Night Court for a time and investigate everything again for herself. It will remind her that what happened is over, and you're both safe. Besides, returning home could be a good thing for her. It might comfort her."

    "This is her home now," Mikael pointed out. "She's said so herself."

    Thesan smiled. "Yes, but she grew up in the Night Court. She still knows it better than she knows the Dawn Court. Besides, nostalgia is a powerful thing. It can comfort a soul when nothing and no one else can."

    Mikael thought it over and gave a small nod. "All right. I'll suggest it to her later. I'm sure Azriel and Seren won't object to her coming."

    Mikael rose, but his father grabbed his arm. "And I think you should let her go alone."

    Mikael raised an eyebrow. "What? No. With how she's been doing lately, I can't leave her on her own."

    "Mikael, give her some space. This may be something that she has to sort out on her own. I know it's easier said than done, but I also know you want to do what's best for her."

    "What if that's not what's best for her?"

    Thesan released him and shrugged. "Then it's not. But speak with her about it. Ask her if she wants to go and if she wants you to accompany her. Respect her wishes if she says no." Mikael nodded with a sigh, heading towards the door again. "And get some sleep, Son. This has obviously taken a toll on you too."

    Mikael paused in the doorway, a smile tugging at his lips. "Yes, Father." He vanished into the hallway without another word.