Sorry this took so long to get posted guys. I was way busy for the past few months, so I barely got on FanFiction, or even write! I will try to post a new chapter every week. This time is none other than Stalvan Mistmantle! :)
Disclaimer: Everything I write about belongs to Blizzard except for my own characters
The damned do not dream. But if I could, I know what I would dream of.
Her
Her in all her beauty. I would dream of her dark hair dancing delicately across her shoulders, the ways her eyes sparkled in the sunlight. I would dream of the scarlet begonia she gave to me, the gentle touch of her hand on mine.
I would also dream of her bloodcurdling betrayal. How she tossed me aside like trash. All for a man who never deserved her. Also her words that stung my soul.
"Don't mind him. He's just a nice old man."
Ungrateful little witch! She could not see that I was perfect for her!
Nice old man...
I would dream of her footsteps running up the cottage stairs. The blood of her precious little brother, mother, and father sprayed across the stone floor. I would dream of her pleads for mercy, and what I said in response.
"Nice old man indeed."
I would dream of her beautiful blood covering me, and my axe. I felt not sorrow, but joy. Even then I loved her, even now I do. That is what I would dream of...
Tilloa is that you? Why no! It's just some dirty human!