17th Sun, 1st Astral Moon, 1572

I’ve had more dreams.

Dreams of battles long over, of fires burnt out and cold, of desires unfulfilled… and of him.

The battle is there in many forms. It is either red and black; beside my past comrades, against fleeing innocence, towards the things I wish I could take back. Or the battle is grey and white, blinding… as if the sky itself burnt brighter than a thousand suns.
In these battles I fight. There is a weapon in my hand, so familiar and real.
In these battles I kill. Blood stains my skin, seeps in to every pore.
In these battles I die. Always on the ground… cold and alone… gasping for my last breathes.

The fire always feels so hot. It is always the same, never changing, the hues always flickering, licking like a lovers tongue, scorning like a lash. The fire is all around, or it is far, but no matter the distance… it always cracks in my ears, sears my flesh to the bone and roars brighter than any flame I knew before.
In the fire I see my village. Burning and broken, stolen.
In the fire I see my father. Fighting and screaming, dying.
In the fire I see my childhood. Fragile and smouldering, gone.

The desire is the worst. An untamed beast, a hunger from within needing pacification, wanting to be sated… needing to be silenced. It is pure need, and yet selfish wanting. It is something I can not control, something I know I can not stop…
In my desire I am with a man. He takes me as if I were his.
In my desire I struggling. He fights back as if I were his.
In my desire I submit… as if I were his.

And him. He is always there. A form, a sound, a shadow a thought or a want.
Always him.
His body is a haunting form.
His heartbeat is a pounding sound.
His protection is a flickering shadow.
His love is a comforting thought.
His love… is merely a want.

I do not want to dream any longer.

17th Sun, 1st Astral Moon, 1572