A/N: I have received a couple PM's expressing confusion over the last chapter, as well as the same question in a review. They all had a variation of the same question:

"I'm kind of confused...is Adrian watching this as it's happening, or is it still a vision of the future?"

It is a vision of the future. He is watching it IN A VISION.

In the real Frostbite, when Dimitri found Rose and Lissa in Adrian's room, he slipped into a trance of sorts, uttering "Young girls? Young girls? Sure. Young and old at the same time. They've barely seen anything in life, yet they've already seen too much. One's marked with life, and one's marked with death…"

To me, this indicated that Adrian might have the 'second sight' or the ability for prophecy as a side effect of spirit's madness.

I hope that clears up any confusion. At some point in the future I might try to rework the intro to the 'vision' sequence, since it seems confusing to some of you. Right now though, I just don't have time. I am taking time away from writing the final book in my trilogy to post this fan fiction—so for the time being, it must stand as is, errors and all. (Much as they disturb me! I print out a hard copy of each chapter to review when I have time, and I notice each and every booboo, trust me.) ;)

Thanks for reading—I hope everyone is enjoying Adrian's take on the series.

He was stuck. Ever since the last of the guardians had fled the scene, he'd been trying to escape, but his efforts were in vain. He knew time was flying by at an increased rate, he could tell by the shifting vision around him. Not that the place was changing—it was the moon. It's position had been steadily making its way across the sky. By his best estimate, several hours had passed, even though it had seemed like only twenty or thirty minutes. But who could really tell in a dream… vision… Whatever the hell this was that he was stuck in.

He'd spent the time trying to wake himself, to break free from the shackles that locked him in the dream. He was beyond desperate to return to reality—to wake up before he forgot all that he'd seen. He was so intent on his task, that at first, he failed to notice the alien feeling in his head. As it grew stronger, and he became more conscious of it, he ignored it, dismissing it as another facet of his dementia. That is, until it demanded his acknowledgement.

For all intents and purposes, whenever Adrian Ivashkov used spirit—for anything greater than compulsion—he visualized himself in a large, black… room. In fact, that was how he unconsciously pictured his mind; a large chamber that filled with his thoughts—or with his madness. And right now, a tiny corner of that room was…chilly, and growing colder by the second.

As soon as he realized that, he stopped trying to wake up. The new feeling troubled him. Never before had he felt this, not even when he was at his most unbalanced. His inner room was always pleasant, the perfect temperature, neither too hot nor too cold, the atmosphere calming him. What the hell was happening now? He was tired of this. He'd prefer another side trip to lala land as opposed to being stuck here with a frostbitten brain.

While he was trying to determine the sudden change, three things happened simultaneously. The temperature in the room dropped dramatically, becoming absolutely frigid. The atmosphere in the room went from soothing to foreboding. Finally, he heard—and mentally felt—a familiar voice. It was laced with a Russian accent— more pronounced and somehow harsher than he'd ever heard it before—screaming out "ROZA!"

Adrian froze, his eyes immediately locking on the cave's entrance. He only had to wait for a moment before the man appeared. Belikov. Dear God, he was Strigoi. And he was arguing with the blonde bastard that had changed him.

"You WILL listen to me—I'm the one who—"

The Russian cut him off, his voice cold and antagonistic. "I will not leave without her. She is my mate. She is my…" He stopped, tilting his head as if in search of the proper words. "She is mine. Always."

The blonde hissed like a great cat, launching himself towards the taller man, probably intent on teaching him a lesson.

It was a mistake.

Belikov sidestepped him easily, catching the older Strigoi in a headlock. His face was unemotional, even stonier than his guardian mask had been. "Say the word, Nathan, and I'll end you here and now. Nothing... No one will keep me from Roza."

Adrian stared in amazement. This shouldn't be happening. Belikov shouldn't be able to overpower an older Strigoi, especially not the one who made him. It was impossible. It was—

"If you want her you'll have to awaken her. She can't remain a dhampir." Nathan choked out. "You'll need me for that, you've only just risen as Strigoi—you won't be able to do it alone."

Dimitri froze. His face… changed, just for an instant. He looked broken hearted. In an instant the look was gone, the mask back in place. A cunning, predatory smile curled up his lips, then twitched back into a frown as the mask slipped yet again. Adrian closed his eyes, concentrating on the cold corner in his head, wondering if somehow, he could…

Yes… it was there. He heard the faintest echo of the thoughts racing through the other man's head. He was at war with himself, almost as if two different personalities were fighting for dominance. One was determined to Awaken Rose—the other horrified by the thought, wanting to protect her. The first was determined to have her by his side, where she belonged. The second longed for her just as much, but was determined to get as far away as possible, ensuring her safety.

Good Lord. He realized he was listening in as some trapped, inner part of Dimitri's conscious—his heart or soul or spirit—attempted to battle the demon that had laid claim to his body. Adrian's eyes shot open and he resumed his efforts to wake up. He had to warn them. Had to stop this. Almost as if his frenzied thrashing were visible, Belikov's red ringed eyes locked on the place where he was trapped. They narrowed for a moment, before he shoved the blonde away, stalking towards the very spot where Ivashkov stood.

Adrian pulled in spirit—more than he'd ever attempted before. If filled him like a deluge of scalding water, and he screamed out as intense pain smashed into him. It felt as if he were caught in a hydraulic press—the most intense pain he'd ever felt. As the scream left his lips the colors began to run, swirling around him like a massive tornado. One minute he was staring at Strigoi Belikov, the next he was back in the dream version of his living room, with the Russian shaking him by the shoulders. He slapped at the other man's hands, not realizing for a moment, that it was the regular, everyday Dimitri that had him by the arms, and not the horrifying version of walking, talking death that he'd morphed into.

"Adrian! Adrian—stop!"

"You… Strigoi… Cavern… It was…" He realized the was babbling, but couldn't stop himself. He was panting as the pain receded, struggling to catch his breath.

"Calm down," Belikov said. "We're still in a dream, only a dream, Adrian."

"NO!" He lashed out with spirit, funneling it into his body again, forgetting what had happened only a few moments before. Shoving it into the other man, determined to make him listen, he attempted to use yet another of the newly discovered powers. He hadn't read that much on dream compulsion, but now was a perfect time to attempt it. He had to make Belikov listen, to understand… to believe. Adrian visualized the current once again flowing between them, flowing between their thoughts. He pictured the ebb and flow of—

Instantly the crushing pressure was back, capturing him in a vice of sheer agony. "Belikov—" He coughed, choking as a bright red spray of blood fountained from his mouth, painting the other man with droplets of red. "It was—"

His world abruptly went dark as he collapsed forward, into Dimitri Belikov's arms.

He became self-aware before he woke up—that is to say, he couldn't open his eyes, no matter how desperately he tried, even though he'd become aware of his surroundings. He heard the irritating beeps of a heart monitor; smelled the sharp biting scent of disinfectant. He knew he must be in the clinic, but he had no idea how he'd gotten there.

In the distance he heard a door open, followed by the sound of light footfalls approaching his bedside.

"What happened?"

"I'm not sure. He was coughing up blood. Doctor Olendzki's not sure why he hasn't come around yet. It's been over an hour." Belikov's deep voice sounded worried.

That gave Adrian a momentary pause. Why was the Russian worried about him? They hated each other. A faint warmth caught his attention; it was accompanied by a familiar electrical tingle. His eyes shot open, meeting with a pair of jade green ones that were full of concern.

"Welcome back." Lissa said, smiling

"Damn it Lissa!" His voice sounded raspy. "You didn't have to do that!"

She rolled her eyes, grabbing his hand. "Yes I did."

"I would have been fine. I was just… resting."

"What happened? Was it spirit? I told you those new powers were too dangerous—that's why you collapsed, isn't it? You were trying them again." She accused.

His eyes flicked away from hers, meeting Belikov's. A silent warning seemed to pass from Adrian to the other man—the Russian's jaw tensing as he gave a small almost indiscernible nod. Good, he wasn't going to tell, nice to know that whatever other faults he might have, Dimitri wasn't a snitch.

A sharp voice accompanied by a tight squeeze on his hand demanded his attention. "Look at me Adrian."

Sighing, he dramatically rolled his eyes her way, smirking at the frustrated look she was giving him. She was probably trying to look intimidating, but it just wasn't working for her. An angry kitten probably looked more fierce than Lissa at her worst.

"What?"

"Did you try it again? Is that what happened."

"Lissa—"

She cut him off. "Did you actually read the case notes Adrian? Before you attempted any of it?"

He really didn't appreciate her snotty tone of voice. He wasn't a damn child. "Of course I read them."

"Thoroughly?"

"Lissa, I just fucking said I read them."

"That's not what I asked."

He sighed. "Fine. I skimmed them. What the hell does it matter?"

"If you'd taken the time to read everything, you wouldn't be asking me that. You'd know that if any of those… tasks are attempted—especially reading someone's thoughts—and not performed correctly, it can form a…" She paused, looking worried. "Well, a link, between your mind and the mind you attempted to contact."

Adrian stared at her, wide eyed as he processed her words. What the hell was she getting at? That he had somehow opened up a line of…

Fuck.