Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Choosing to do the right thing was the hardest and most painful decision I've ever had to make. I couldn't help but drown in guilt even though I know it's what he wanted. For months I had nightmares, simply reliving that moment oven and over. There was blood, always so much blood, and my hands would never be clean of it. In the light of day I couldn't help but feel tainted. The land may have been cleansed through my actions but it cost me a piece of myself. I felt as I had before my magic was restored to me. I was damaged, in a way that would not, could not, be cured.

During the day I worked hard to rebuild, hoping to quiet the whispers that ran constantly through my head. Thoughts about how maybe there was a way I could have saved my home, how I could have saved him. I'd work from the moment I awoke until I was practically collapsing from exhaustion. I knew I pushed my body too hard. I knew that I was depressed. I knew that I was losing weight. But maybe, just maybe, I'd be so tired I would not dream? Still the nightmares came.

Worse than the nightmares were the dreams where he was still alive, that he was free and happy. These dreams were so much worse because eventually these wonderful moments would always come to an end. I'd wake and reality would come crashing back, vivid and painful.