The Fated Mate

Lena stirred in her sleep, this restlessness, too, brought on by dreams. They had become more insistent, more real, each passing night. Tonight was no different. She again stood in this dream

om what you are," the figure said. "The prophecy is fated. You are marked." Lena felt it in her bones-some truth she didn't want to acknowledge. She tried to scream, but nothing came out. The shadows wrapped around her, cold and suffocating. And then as if the darkness were pulling her under, the murmur came again, to break through the nightmare like a lifeline. "Lena." The voice was soft-too familiar. Adrian's voice. Her eyes sprang open, and with a gasp of air, she sat up in bed. Sweat had glued to her skin, and her heart raced within her chest. For that first instant, the room felt foreign-the darkness of the dream seemed to follow her into the bright world. Shadows in corners seemed to twist and writhe, just out of view. She had frozen, staring into the dimness. Her breathing was shallow, her brain fumbling to rationalize precisely what had happened. This dream-no, "vision"-seemed all so real, almost tangible still. The weight of the burden from this shadow's presence-the cold instilled in her heart . Then she heard it. Whisper-soft, yet unmistakable in nature. "Lena." She blinked, her head snapping toward the sound. It came from somewhere behind her, just beyond the edge of the bed. Of course, she was alone in the room, but the whisper... it had felt so real. So close. Her eyes scanned the room for anything that would denote movement. Nothing. The room was as it had always been-quiet, still. The only sound was the soft hum of the wind outside, the infrequent rustling of trees in the yard. She exhaled a breath, willing her racing heart to quiet. It was only the remains of that dream, she told herself-only echoes of whatever that darkly silhouetted figure had said to her. But deep inside, deep in her gut, something gnawed at her; it felt like deep wounds telling her she wasn't alone and that her dream wasn't over with yet. She swung her legs over the side and stood with the back-and-forth motion, The room was too quiet, too still. She had to do something-anything-to distract her from the quiet and to get her feet on the soil of reality. She crossed the room to the window and drew back the heavy curtains. The moon overhead was high, casting co