It started out as a silhouette.

The nightmare grew, and every time I woke up, I could

not find my breath. It was like someone was strangling me

to sleep. Literally.

Since the dark shadow came, I keep finding myself wak-

ing up feeling terribly frightened. The scariest thing about

this is because I have no clue of what’s trying to harm me. I

have lived my life so many years free from fear and terror

now; always know how to put a shield over my body from

anything.

However, I do believe nothing lasts forever. If this is the

end of me, maybe I should let it go.

Everyone wants me to die, and I don’t blame them. I have

desired death since the Change, but none of their endeavors

work until now. Some of them die in my hands. Some of

them come close in ending my life, but they keep playing on

the surface of the water. If they dive in deep enough, I’m

certain they will find victory.

Since they don’t play rough enough, they can never take

my life, and it exhausts me. Maybe it’s the vampire blood

streaming inside of me, but since my body meets immortali-

ty it is in my nature to fight back. Violently. I’m too vehe-

ment nobody can go against me.

In some eyes, I am heroic, but most consider me the big-

gest enemy ever existed. Even though I was no longer the

killer I once was.

I don’t do things in a child’s way. I was a slaughterer like a

little boy in a playground—I didn’t choose which slide or

swing-set to go to, I just went for it. If not for the Custody,

that murderer inside of me would remain here, deep in my

soul. If the Clan was one minute late, that part of me would

probably be locked up inside of me, and the key to unlock

the cage in my body would be lost forever.

Who doesn’t want to kill the most dangerous immortal in

the world? It will be all over the news—werewolves, vam-

pires, wizards and all immortals alike would unite for a huge

festival to celebrate my nonexistence. There will be no more

half-wizard half-vampire for the world to fear, though some

who try to replicate me will feel some sort of failure, but

still.

So these nightmares don’t really surprise me. For almost

a decade creatures across the globe are strategizing attacks

on me from every single direction. Paranoia used to be my

best friend, but menacing things keep coming to me so of-

ten that my brain has been wired to them. Everything be-

comes predictable—the kind of approach, the kind of ene-

my, and the kind of assassins that were assigned on me;

everything is recognizable by now.

But this time, an enemy of mine decides to conceal them-

selves in dark shadows. I don’t tolerate this act of coward-

ice; it’s a foul-play, filthy and unjustified. I prefer my battles

man-to-man, so I can see their eyes dropping tears as they

scream or their smiles once they finally have my life on the

edge.

This enemy is sending me hallucinations, mostly in my

sleep, in my most vulnerable state. A wave of tremor will

collide inside of my chest, torturing me, draining sweat out

of my body. One month has been bearable, but I can’t toler-

ate these nightmares anymore. A hundred of spells finally

didn’t work to repel this darkness engulfing me. The Clan

has already tried summoning the world’s most powerful

sorcerers and warlocks to fend the visions off my head, but

none of the attempts worked.

Fever, nausea and paranoia are again my loyal compan-

ions. I never find my enemy, they’re the ones who usually

reveal themselves before. So I say an oath to myself, to not

forgive this enemy off me. I swear to my immortal life that

this will be the biggest battle in my life, and I will die for it.

I desire both outcomes: to find the death that I desire, or

to see the enemy bleed to death.

“Next?” Venia asks as she hands me the Firestalk, an or-

chid mutated by one of the oldest spell ever known to wiz-

ard. It’s a key to enter someone’s dream, and now I’m using

it to enter my own.

“The venom,” I tell her. She hands me a small glass bottle

of a faint yellow liquid—a venom of a black snake, a dark

ingredient to intensify the potion. The last recipe might not

work because I attempted without it, but now I know this

will work.

I pour the venom inside a long tube, and the liquid burns

the orchid petals down, letting out black smokes. I breathe

the venomous air in and close my eyes, visualizing the de-

sired effect that I want inside my head. The stronger my will

is, the more effective this potion will be.

Last time, I didn’t really care about this, like I was ready

to let the nightmares win over me, so maybe that’s why the

potion lost its effectiveness.

Things are different now.

I swing the wand in the air and shoot it to the tube in

front of me. Blue sparks fly into the black smokes and a red

fluid starts to bubble up from the bottom of the tube, filling

up the thin capillary. The boiling effect becomes too strong I

let out a spell to calm the particles down. The boiling calms

down to a simmer and the red liquid inside the tube con-

sume half of the container.

“I guess the potion’s ready,” says Venia, her face display-

ing a look of triumph. I’m not surprised, she’s always been

happy for me.

“I’m ready,” I tell her. “I can feel it. I can grasp the enemy

tonight.”

“So . . . if we hear screams from your bedroom later in

the night, we don’t need to worry about you?”

Venia chuckles and I feel a twinge of embarrassment. The

nightmares have forced me to yell and shriek at night, and

that’s why the whole clan was not fond of my situation.

Their number one weapon was in danger, and they had no

clue what help to give. I can see, as it blooms clear in Venia’s

eyes, that they are putting high hopes for this attempt of

mine to work. They want me to trace the enemy so they can

witness it gone. Once everything is over, their firearm is free

from harm again, and they will remain as the most powerful

vampire clan in the universe.

I wonder how they will feel once they know I’m also root-

ing for the opposite outcome.

“You will find this coward,” Venia says. “I’m positive

about it.”

I snigger, now reaching out to the tube to take this po-

tion. The red of the fluid is so bright that I almost think of it

as blood—maybe I’m just hungry now.

Venia adds, “Is it possible to kill the enemy from your

sleep?”

I shake my head. “I don’t think so. The intensity of the

dream itself is unbelievable. The key now is to identify these

hiding shadows. The potion will verify whether the halluci-

nation is real or nonexistent—if it’s the former then I can

identify the location the next time I wake up.”

The snake venom will pin the visions of the dreams inside

my memory. Projecting these images can make the work

easier for me—I will place them in the Door and portal right

to the location.

“How will you know that you are going to dream the

nightmares tonight?”

I turn to look at Venia. I can’t objectify the answer to her

question, but I’m certain about the answer I have in my

mind.

“It will come,” I say. “It will never go.”

Venia moves, her straight shiny hair bounces in the air,

her long legs walk slow and steady steps to the door. If I am

still a mortal wizard like I have been years ago, I would have

probably noticed her beauty by now. But neither she nor

other women could return the feeling to me. The Change

destroyed that part of me, and I know Venia tries hard to

bring it back.

She winks and I take the tube. I don’t take my eyes off

her when I drink the liquid in. I sip it to the last, bright-red

drop, and Venia still stands there.

“Sweet dreams,” she says as she steps out of the room.

She closes the door and I advance toward my cot, drowsi-

ness already taking over my head.