I woke up with a gasp. My chest heaved quickly and heavily like I had been drowning and only just breached the surface. I was all sweaty, and my hairline was damp. My sheets clung to my skin, and for a moment I couldn't tell if it was the remnants of the nightmare, or the memory of the port itself, that had left me shaking.
I had dreamed of the carnage again, not clearly though, not with images that made much sense; only splashes of blood, glints of steel, bodies, vultures circling in the sky, and then, that message carved in stone: 'I'm coming for you.'
The ghost had gotten into my head, he was entangled in my soul at this point. Even in sleep, he stalked me.
