.

.

The stone is cruel to her.

She's on her feet before her knees touch the ground. The streets of Dalaran are cold with familiarity that aches. The street lamps are a lit with a golden glow- the shadows are moving and taking the warmth with it- and she stumbles. The sun is setting, but the spires hide its shine. The tendrils of twilight touch the sky and it's wrong. Wrong like a painting that doesn't belong. The artist forgot a detail. It's missing. She's running to catch it.

"One of us can live."

"Stop." She breathes through her teeth, hand groping for the wall beside her but only empty air is there- something is supposed to be there though someone- and wills her legs to obey. She has to do something. A small twine is around her neck, the stone innocent against her chest. Her hand reaches for it- get it off get it off- but she misses and her knees hit the pavement.

"You will be happy."

A choked noise builds up her throat. Her vision is getting watery. The lights of the streets waver and dance, until all she sees is a blur of color. Soft tap tap taps hit the road, the sound crushing her inside and out. Her head feels hot, she can't get enough air, there's too much tears and the stupid necklace-

"I love you."

Her arms cage around her head, curling herself into her knees. The noise escapes her throat in a terrible sound, a sob caught in between a hysterical laugh. There's a hollow pit in her stomach that swallows her whole, with his smile and his face, his hand and his hair. It hurts, a pinching gnarling hurt. She cries.

"Stop." She pleads again, but the word doesn't make it. Her sleeves feel grimy and wet, her nose still twitches with the air of another planet. Breathing feels greedy. He's still there, they're all still there, and she's- she's-!

She's hoping for a dream, a horrible one, where she's found and brought to people. Where she tells them what happened, where every word feels like her ribs are cracking. They can't reverse the spell, the dream is so horrid, and they don't have any means to trace it. They lose heroes in this dream, her lover along with them. They're gone, and she hopes it's just a terrible dream.

She'll wake up. He'll be there, sleeping sounder then her because he's worked so hard. Her stomach will growl and she'll try to shimmy out of the covers, only to get hooked in by his arm. She'll laugh and poke him in his belly, where he'll groan and tug her closer, words heavy with sleep and Go back to sleep, per and she'll oblige. She'll be there forever if she could, tucked to his chest, the smell of smoke and fire and death years away from sight and mind. He'll kiss her forehead, telling her to stop giggling, but she'll eventually blow a raspberry into his neck. He'll startle, but he's not one to back down from a challenge. With a noise of disgust, he'll wrap her in the sheets, both of them laughing all the way.

He'll grin down at her, eyes sparkling with life and love. She would take his cheeks and bring him down for a kiss, where he'd return her raspberry with his on her lips. She'd howl with laughter where he'd burry his nose into her neck and say breakfast? And it'd happen every day, every morning.

She wakes up and the stone is there, like nightmare gored into reality.

.

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