It was past midnight when I woke up to the loud noise outside the house. It was dark, and I saw Dylan standing right beside the door. I opened my mouth to ask him, but he raised finger this mouth telling me that something was outside.

‘Blood-drainer?’ I mouthed the words, and he nodded in reply. I silently got up from the chair and went to stand next to him. Through the curtain, I saw a man standing outside at the door whilst two women circled around the place. One of them snapped her head in my direction, and I pulled back immediately from the window cursing at myself as she had seen me.

There was a loud thud on the rooftop, and the silence was completely shattered by a sudden, violent knocking at the door. The sound echoed through the room growing louder and louder with each passing second. It was not a simple knocking but incessant, aggressive pounding on the door as whoever was on the other side was desperate to get inside. Dylan and I both pushed ourselves against the door with all our might to keep it close. The door creaked under the pressure, its wooden frame straining against the relentless assault.

The banging on the door started giving me headache, and I covered my ears to shut off all the noise. He was torn between checking on me and keeping the door closed. I pressed my back against the door as I nursed the throbbing pain in my head.

“Make it stop!” I screamed in pain as the loud banging sound pierced through my ears, and I could hold no longer.

The door continued rattling and my shoulder was all bruised up for pushing against it. There came another loud thud from the rooftop. A crack on the ceiling appeared, and my heart sank in fear.

“It’s here…” I whispered.

Next moment, the ceiling collapsed, and a female blood-drainer dropped down on the floor from above. Dylan was already having hard time holding onto the door and couldn’t deal with that blood-drainer. So, I mustered up courage, fighting the throbbing pain in my hand and ran  to pick up his sword. When that female blood-drainer charged at me snarling, I pushed the blade forward, piercing it straight through her stomach and pulled it out with a shaking hand.

I waited for a moment to see if the she  was actually dead and sighed in relief. I turned to look back at Dylan, but the next few minutes became a blurry memory.

 A hand shot out from the door, slashing through Dylan’s stomach and tore open his flesh. I froze in horror as he vomited out blood and fell forward on the floor on his face. I ran to catch him, and pressed on his abdomen to stop the bleeding.

“Don’t you die on me!” I cried as blood flowed between my fingers.

”G-Go back!” He spoke between his coughs, and I frantically shook my head refusing to leave him behind in that condition.

The door broke open, and I looked up to see another blood-drainer in blood haze. I grimaced in anger and clenched the sword in my hand. The creature growled and charged at us, but I thrust the sword forward in time and pierced the sharp blade through his growling throat. He screeched grabbing his throat as the blood gushed out and dropped dead on the floor.

 There’s another one behind him. I swung out the sword in rage and cut off her head as well.

I let go of the sword and turned back to Dylan. I brought my face near to his, and was relieved to find that he was still breathing. His lips moved, and he muttered something incoherently.

“Don’t speak!” I pulled him up in my lap, and looked at the horizon as dawn finally broke. The radiating golden light of sun made the blind darkness around us disappear. The bodies of the blood-drainers started burning and dissipated into dying ashes.

 I shielded  my eyes against the blinding light with my hand as a static noise deafened my ear.

When I woke up, I found myself lying in a hospital bed.Mihail told me that I had passed out in the Bran Castle and accidentally injured my hand on a rustic nail.

It took me a while to adjust to my surroundings and white light in the room. I looked at the IV in my arm and raised my hand to see it bandaged up properly by the nurse.

‘It wasn’t a dream after all’, I thought to myself.

“When can I go back?” I asked the nurse who told me that I could go after the IV was finished. I lie down my head again and thought of Dylan.

I wondered if he was alive.

After getting discharged from the hospital, I returned to my hotel and analyzed the situation reflecting on the incidents of the past few days. First, I was on train in Maramures when I was chased by those grotesque creatures, and I met Dylan. The second time when I encountered him, I was in Hoia Baciu forest and saw uncured people of the fog. Then, I was at Bran Castle when the bloodthirsty monsters attacked me, and I narrowly escaped from death.

However, the question remained: Who was Dylan and what became of him after I returned? Was he even alive, or had it been a dream all along?

 I looked for my diary in the luggage and got a pen from the nightstand’s drawer to draw and connect the timeline of these events.

Firstly, the question was whether it was a dream or delusion, but the scratch on my arm and the injured hand did not seem to say so. It meant that an injury or a wound received in that place would appear in the real world too.

Secondly, what was that place? Was it netherworld-but I was still alive- or did I enter another dimension? Could it have been transmigration where I had accidentally entered another timeline or a world different from ours? I worried my lower lip with teeth and scribbled across the paper what could possibly have  led me there. The passengers on the train disappeared after it passed through the tunnel. Then, walking through the thicket of trees and secret passage of the Bran Castle must have transfused both worlds.

The tunnel and the entrances had acted as a passageway to another world, yet the core of the mystery and Third question still remained. Who was he? He wasn't one of those undead, but he definitely wasn't a human either. What was he then? I put question mark on his name on the paper. 

'What if—' I fumbled at the intrusive thought. 'What if I had been imagining things all along?' The possibility of seeing things made me dread since schizophrenia ran in the maternal side of family. My grandmother had suffered from it, and my aunt also started showing symptoms of paranoia. I had gone to see a doctor three months ago for having auditory hallucinations, but she identified it as clinical depression and signed me up for the follow-up sessions.

Did she misdiagnose it as depression? I shouldn’t have ignored Natasha’s calls.

I shook my head in denial and grabbed my throbbing head in hands. What if he was someone wicked or that realm was actually Hell? I cursed at the stupid book I had got from that old man in Paris and plopped down on the bed.

I decided to call my doctor but went against it. If I told her, and those were the symptoms of psychosis, she would call me back and I didn’t want to go back without finding the answer. 

Be it a netherworld, hell, time travel or another dimension, I was determined to find out the truth behind this incident.

I had a hard time sleeping and remained restless throughout the night. In the morning, I was brushing my teeth when I remembered that he had mouthed something to me before passing out. 

'What was it?' I racked my brain, trying to recall what he could have said. So...Sok...Sock?

The statue of Carol I’s wife, Elizabeth of Wied, sewing socks.

Souks of Marrakech 

I went back to the room and opened my laptop to look up the word. It definitely was not sock or soak. I searched for the homophones of the word 'sock' but couldn't find much. Then, the results showed another word, 'souk'. I looked it up immediately on the search bar. Souk is a type of marketplace in North Africa and Middle East which meant bazaar. 

'Bazaar?’' I pondered.

‘Why does he want me to look for a Bazaar and where do I find one here?

Romania did not have any Arab market, and Granada was not in the Middle East. The market in Dubai was also shopping mall instead of a traditional bazaar I was looking for.

Then, I googled for ‘souks in Egypt’, but the results showed me a number of bazaars in Egypt and its flea markets that I didn’t know where to start first.

I became frustrated and grabbed my head, but suddenly it clicked me 'Morocco', the country in North Africa with its City Marrakech famous for the souks. I immediately looked for a direct flight from Bucharest to Marrakech and started packing, but stopped once I realized what I was actually doing.

I should have treated it as a delusion and returned home, but a part of me wanted to see him again. I needed answers from Dylan, so I had to go and find him.

Even if I was going nuts, I should have an interesting story to tell psychiatrists.      

I landed in Marrakech and from Menara airport, I took a taxi to a hotel which was near Jemma El Fnaa Square and Bahia Palace. I checked in at the hotel, rested and unpacked after waking up in the evening.

Marrakech, the Red City of Morocco, is a melting pot of history, architecture and rich culture from great restaurants and food to the marketplaces and the Hamams. I looked up for Jemaa El Fna Square of Marrakech on the internet and found that it has many bustling markets, and the Souk Semmarine is the main souk which leads to other connected bazaars.

I closed the laptop, stretched my limbs and decided to go out and check the hotel..

 The hotel had a scenic rooftop terrace to enjoy the city’s panoramic view while having dinner or shisha and also offered private spa and hammam services to its guests for relaxation. Not feeling for the spa after the dinner, I went downstairs to the indoor swimming pool and sat in the lounge chair to stretch and relax near the water.

I might have dozed off in the chair when I felt someone pass by me. I jolted awake and looked around the place but saw no one at the swimming pool beside myself.

Then, I looked up and saw a male figure standing in the loft looking at me. I squinted and tried to make out that person’s face in the faint light of the gallery, but he left from there, and I ran after to catch him, chasing him all the way to the terrace but lost him.

“Ma’am, are you looking for someone?” The hotel staff asked me, and I shook my head telling them that it was fine and they didn’t need to concern themselves with it.

Besides, I had a feeling that person might show up sooner or later unless it was maladaptive daydreaming which I couldn’t help myself with again.

After coming to Marrakech and checking in at hotel, I went to Jemaa El Fna Square wandering through its alleys and streets and witnessed the beauty of Moroccan bazaars with the vibrant display of colorful rugs and textile, ceramics, brass, copper, glassware and leather work. The aroma of spices in Magic Market of Rabha Kedima and dried herbs was a sensory experience as women bustled to bargain with the shopkeepers.

As I walked through the market, I noticed many tourists there wearing the traditional Berber dress or a Kaftan. Even in October, it was warmer during the day in Marrakech than at night, so I wore a loose red dress and braided my hair to be more at ease. There were stalls of henna artists and fresh juice, and the performers on the streets caught attention of many tourists. I walked from one alley to another, moving through the maze like souks and almost got lost.

I entered Souk- Al Attarine from the main square and kept on thinking why Dylan had asked me to find a souk. I travelled far off just to see someone who I didn’t know whether existed or not. I looked through the teapots and lamps, spices and perfumes as well to see if I could get any clue about coming to this souk. I walked through the archway to another street and saw some acrobats performing on the street. I too had paused to enjoy their thrilling performance along with the onlookers when my gaze fell on someone standing in the back of the crowd.

His face was half-covered, and I couldn’t see that person clearly, then, he turned to leave.

Finding him familiar, I went after him as he walked from one street to another, and I got myself a headscarf from a street vendor to cover my face to avoid alerting him. I hurried after him as he took a sudden turn his left but lost a sight of him.

 I looked around the street to see that person when a hand smeared something on my cheek catching me off guard.

“Looking for me?” He said smirking.

It took a second to realize it was Him dressed in a red djellaba. He had a light stubble on his jaw; his hair were grown quite longer than before and the clothes he was wearing made him blend perfectly among the locals.

I instinctively touched my face to find it smudged with something yellowish and powdery. I looked over his shoulder, seeing a stall of spices behind him as my eyes widened in surprise.

“Did you—” I  glared at him, and he let out a laughter seeing me all riled up.

“It’s turmeric”,  he said.

I immediately wiped my face in disgust, then I remembered that he got injured last time and had a wide gash in his abdomen. I placed my hands on his belly searching for his wound and earned a shout of protest from him.

“Hey, you cannot harass me in the broad daylight!” He jumped back at the touch that got us stares from the passers-by.  I smiled embarrassingly at them and turned back to glare at him.

“How did you survive?” I inquired to which he acted clueless.

“What are you talking about?”

“You literally had a hand slashing through your stomach.” I reminded him. “How are you even alive?” His mannerism suddenly changed and said, “Are you that disappointed?” His intense gaze pinned me down.

“Why would I?” I retorted back. “It’s just that—“, I started, but he cut me off again.

“It’s just that the place to which I belong is no ordinary. I healed myself in a month time.” He answered as if what he was telling me was completely normal to hear.

“A month?” I became puzzled. “It’s been only two days or so.”

“Time moves differently in my world than yours.” He explained no further. I got curious again, but he beat me to it.

“So, you have actually come here.” He smirked again, and I elbowed him in the stomach. He doubled over in pain which made me to roll my eyes at his childish antics.

“Stop pretending, you’re perfectly fine.”

“Yes, but are you not happy to see me alive?” His voice had a tinge of fear. 

“It’s good to see you still kicking.” I was relieved to see him alive.

If I were honest, a part of me had wanted to see him again regardless of who or what he was. His presence carried a strange warmth, and I felt less lonely around him though I refused to admit it.

Pushing aside these thoughts, I recalled the incident from the previous day and asked, “Were you the one at the hotel last night?”

“Hotel?” He looked confused. “I can’t cross over to the human realm unless being called to.”

 I became baffled. If it was not him, then, who could it have been?