Riona shot upright, gasping, her hair plastered to her forehead like she'd just run a marathon in a sauna. The same nightmare again. Lately, it had been showing up more often than Donovan's nosy comments—uninvited, annoying, and impossible to ignore.
She tried to steady her breathing, curling up on the bed, but her tear ducts felt dry, spent from too many nights like this.
"It's a message from him," came the familiar voice from somewhere in the room, calm but insistent. "His unconscious still needs you. This is the only way he can reach out for help."
With no physical body, the ancestor could pop in whenever he pleased. Like an annoying roommate who didn't pay rent, he'd been hanging around even more lately.
"Why don't you ever believe me?" the Fallen One asked, their tone dripping with exasperation.
