Its face was inches from hers. Envy. It was too close, too entwined in her mind, and she wasn't going to be able to get away. It was going to take her, whether she wanted to be possessed or not. Its limbs held her down, making her body hard to move, heavy. Panicking, she sent a sharp kick into its gut and whirled away as it released her, howling in anger.

Finley rolled away from it, springing to her feet and lifting her head to find herself face to face with…

With a shriek, she sat upright in bed, clutching her chest as she tried to even her breathing. There had been something behind her. Something in the darkness, in the void, in the nothing where her memories had disappeared.

Something that had scared Envy.

She shouldn't have gone back there. Whatever had happened at the Conclave, those memories weren't hers. They belonged to…to….

Her mind was blank, but she could feel as though something was watching her from every shadow, just deep enough in the darkness that she couldn't see it. Its gaze crawled over her, conjuring images of burned bodies, twisted corpses. Ash collapsed beneath her shoes. They were still burning. She could hear their screams. Smell their smoldering flesh.

She couldn't breathe through all the ash and darkness. It was gripping her, pulling her down.

Down, down, down.

There was a deep voice whispering in her ears. It laughed when it realized she could hear it.

Finally deciding to listen, are we? I do have so much to say.

However, it was the voice that followed it, one with distinctly feminine qualities that spoke over that deep, terrible baritone that made her tremble.

Don't worry, little lamb. We both know he won't get you.

A loud bang thundered in her ears, and Finley jerked her knees into her chest, instinctively trying to make herself as small as she could. She curled her head forward, not wanting to look up and see what had caused the noise.

Was it one of the demons?

Something worse?

"Herald?"

She turned her head as little as possible and let her gaze slide to the side slowly, not sure what to expect.

Commander Rutherford was there, sitting on the edge of her bed, one hand on her back, the other holding her marked hand. He was leaning forward, worried.

Had his eyes always been so brilliant? She'd always thought they were brown, but they seemed amber in the dim light. A candle was burning nearby, casting shadows across him and making his eyes almost glow. Were the circles on his cheeks supposed to be as dark as they were?

She couldn't remember.

Armor clinked and her gaze snapped around the room, frantically trying to find whatever had caused it. However, they were alone, with the door slightly askew and a few snowflakes drifting in.

Cullen tightened his grip on her hand, saying something that she missed in her panic.

He was watching her.

Had he come because he didn't trust that she could face off against a demon and walk away unscathed? The templars had whispered about that as she'd left, when she'd first disbanded their Order. A few had suggested she was the demon, picking up where it had left off and planting the seeds of chaos.

She hadn't been able to get away from them fast enough.

And now they were all coming to Haven. The mages were gone, and her hunters were coming, and she was one of the few that they'd have reason to keep watch over.

She could feel a templar's gaze upon her already and shivered as she looked to her side, again discovering the commander, still sitting beside her. His hand moved in slow, gentle circles on her back.

Was it really him, though?

Yes…

The one thing the demon hadn't been able to copy was the way his gaze tripped her old spell, letting her know that he was watching.

This had to be the real commander, not something conjured to find her weaknesses, to lay her secrets bare.

"You're alright," he whispered, his grip on her hand easing.

She swallowed slowly and then nodded, looking down toward her bedsheets. "It was just…"

"A bad dream?" He offered, head tilting. When she nodded silently, his hand slowed on her back. "To have a demon manipulate your mind… It takes a strong person to walk away from that. It's good to see you…well." That last word seemed a little doubtful, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to laugh or brace herself for a blade's biting edge. Rather than attack, he simply sat there, not seeming to know what to do. "Do you… I mean, would it, ah… Would it help to talk about it?"

"No."

He nodded, dropping the subject with surprising swiftness. She'd half expected him to prattle on about feelings or something equally droll, but instead, his hand stilled on her back. Rather abruptly, he seemed to realize that he was touching her, because he withdrew it, though his other hand still grasped hers.

Her gaze flitted toward the door when she heard someone's boots crunching through the snow as they patrolled by. In a breath, Commander Rutherford was on his feet, striding across the room. "I'm sorry. I was passing by and heard you cry out and… I shouldn't have let the cold in." Standing a little awkwardly beside the door, he gripped the inner handle as though to shut it and then paused. "You… I should let you get your rest."

"Wait," Finley called out, already off the bed. While the thought of being alone was normally preferential, at the moment, the idea of slipping back into those nightmares left her craving someone, anyone to be near. She caught his hand, even as he stopped, fingers still dangling loosely over the handle. She let him go quickly, drawing her arms to herself and shrugging. "Would… They say you never sleep." He let out a dry laugh at that. "If you're going to be up for a while, would you stay?" She took a few steps back, glancing around the room for an excuse.

With the terror of her dream slowly simmering down and her consciousness struggling to operate coherently with what little sleep she'd had the last two weeks, it occurred to her that she typically didn't want templars mulling about.

But then…

If one of the demons in her dreams was more than a memory, it would help to have someone around, should something unfortunate…

No.

She'd never say yes to a demon. Finley had borne witness long before the Conclave to what demons could do, and she would never be a tool for one. She was stronger than that.

Even if she could barely keep her eyes open.

The commander had closed the door. He caught her as she swayed a little, unsteady on her feet.

Though a part of her hissed something about indignities and being caught by this man on a regular basis, Finley couldn't bring herself to care. She was tired.

Maker, she was tired.

And the commander had promised to be a shield. Her shield.

He had her hand in his again, his other hand just barely touching the small of her back as he guided her back to her bed. As she climbed back onto it, her actions mechanical and thoughtless, her knee thudded against something hard tangled in her bedsheets. She reached down and pulled her old story book out from the mess. She'd all but forgotten that she'd tried reading a bit of it before falling asleep—hence the candle that had burned down to almost nothing at this point.

Hugging the old book close, she turned and sat with her back against the far wall. Commander Rutherford was glancing about the room for a chair, though it was missing. No doubt carted off to somewhere where it was needed more while she was away. It was a little irksome that someone had been in the space given to her while she was away.

But then, she shouldn't have been surprised. After all, this wasn't her home.

It never would be.

When the commander seemed helpless as to what to do with himself, she patted the bed beside her clumsily. He was out of most of his armor, with just his surcoat wrapped around him to keep the cold out as he walked, no doubt.

He seemed to debate something a moment before pulling himself up across the bed so that he was sitting next to her.

"You said you were walking by?" Finley asked, leaning her head back against the wall.

"Ah, yes." Commander Rutherford scratched at the back of his neck where he sat beside her, shoulder almost close enough to brush hers. "I was about to go to sleep when…" His brow furrowed as he looked toward his feet. Both of their feet stuck out off the edge of the bed. His boots were worn and muddy and large next to her bare toes. He leaned forward to take his boots off so that they wouldn't dirty the sheets. "I don't really remember what happened. A scout perhaps? Someone suggested I take a walk."

As he wondered aloud who it had been, Finley's mind wandered back to spirits and demons.

To Cole.

The creature had helped her to get away from Envy and, true to his word, had been among the world of the waking when she'd returned. He'd fought beside her and the templars in the main hall, even warned them a few times when the red templars tried to plan sneak attacks or pincer attacks, yet when Cassandra and the others had arrived with a few others who'd been holed up in other parts of the keep, he'd disappeared. Like the mages, he'd simply vanished. Worse, no one had been able to remember him.

He'd shown up along the road on their travels back. It had been shortly after her first nightmare about Envy.

She'd woken up in a panicked sweat only to find him sitting beside her, holding her hand. She'd jerked away from him and hissed something about not letting him in. He'd fretted and disappeared.

The next time she'd seen him, he'd been surprised that she remembered. Surprised, yet pleased. He'd sworn to her—when he wasn't whispering her own damned thoughts—that he wanted to help, that he could do so much.

She'd finally told him he could tag along for the time being, so long as he kept his distance.

And he had.

Every night, when her dreams had reached their worst, she'd woken up to find a different companion just coming in to check on her. Their reasons ranged. Intuition, a dream, someone suggested it.

It seemed the creature was determined to prove himself a good spirit while keeping in accord with their agreement.

Finley didn't want to think about creatures of the Fade at the moment, however, regardless of whether they were good or not. As Commander Rutherford settled beside her, his patched socks on display to the world, she fought back another shiver.

Since her encounter with Envy, her mind had kept winding its way back to the commander. What had Envy asked her? Something about his lips.

As her gaze trailed up from his feet to his face, she paused when she realized he was watching her. His brow was pinched together, his lips dipping down at the corners. "You really should rest."

She fiddled with her braid, trying not to take note of the shape of his mouth. "It won't be restful."

"It's still better than nothing. It wouldn't do to have you fall asleep while you're trying to close the Breach."

Tired as she was, a small smile towed itself up as she imagined herself falling over mid rift-close. The smile was short lived as she considered what complications might arise from such an incident. They were complications she'd rather not deal with, ever.

Without realizing it, she'd slumped a little to the side until she was leaning into him, her head on his shoulder. He stiffened initially before settling again, careful not to jostle her with any sudden movements.

She liked that he would be so careful.

"You remind me of someone I knew a long time ago," she whispered, her fingers thumping gently against her storybook, still resting against her chest.

"A good someone, I hope," came his soft response. It sounded like he was speaking from some far off place.

She nodded against his shoulder. "One of the best."

She wasn't sure whether he said anything in response to that, because even as she thought to tell him about the story behind her book—that was a story she'd yet to share with anyone, as it hadn't a happy ending like the tales scrawled across her beloved pages—sleep reached up to claim her again.

This time, it wasn't nearly so terrifying, and, even with memories of demons whispering through them, her monsters never drew close enough to frighten her.

...-...

A/N: Thank you so much for reading!