"Bravo," a voice interrupted to my right. Something about it made my entire body ache with terrifying memory. I sat frozen to my spot on the floor, head in hands, shaking.

"Bravo, my templar," she purred, echoing a cold and empty laugh from the darkness. I could not see. I dare not see.

A single, stone-cold clap , followed by another. My eyes stared, blank and horrified, through the slits of my trembling fingers. Shadows betrayed across the blood-stained carpet and stone walls, but through it cut the bare, white trace of skin that sent a cold shiver down my spine.

"My sweet, sweet templar," she whispered, stepping out of the shadows. She was wearing the same, snow-white gown I remember from the night before she left. The milk-white of her skin was barely indistinguishable against the fabric that slipped so lightly over her thigh. Light as a feather, it trailed behind her with a weightless beauty.

My disbelieving eyes traveled the length of her legs, up to her breasts displayed so ample against the pale light. I could feel my body shaking as my hands fell uselessly at my sides, unable to look away. Unable to move.

"Up here, templar," she grinned. My dumb gaze obeyed out of instinct, traveling further until I reached the pristine, knowing smile perched on her red lips.

"Such a good boy," she chuckled, taking another step forward and falling to one knee. Not a scratch on her beautiful skin. Nothing out of place, not even a hair. Her hair was down, tumbling over her shoulder in a loose braid the color of ink. Small, wisping threads escaped and fell in her eyes.

"My templar," she whispered again, her cold hand pressing against my cheek. So very cold.

I tensed.

"I-Isthalla," I heard myself murmur, though I could not connect the words to my thoughts. I felt distant of myself, lost in a dream that did not belong. I creased my brow, hearing the words echo again.

"Isthalla.."

She hushed me, pressing one cold finger to my lips. I could feel her breath whispering over my mouth, yet could not feel the heat. I felt like I should be troubled, but it seemed like too much effort. I could feel my grasp slipping, my mind falling.

I have longed for your touch..

"Shhh…" she urged me. Was I falling? I couldn't be sure. Nothing seemed important anymore, nothing but her voice. Her hands. Her touch. "Rest now, templar," she whispered into my ear, resting her body next to mine. I let my heavy lids close, embracing the cold warmth that she offered. I could feel myself slipping away, and I did not want to fight it anymore. The whispers began to disappear.

Wait..

Wait…..

Cullen!

My heart disrupted in sudden, screeching panic as I heard the phrase repeat, this time louder. More urgent; desperate. Terrified.

"Cullen!" I heard her scream in my mind. It was a terrified, heart-breaking sound. One that made my entire chest clench up in agony. I panicked and jumped in my shock, and felt the hands on me, and the hissing murmurs of protest.

Hold him…

Kill him…

Taken him.

I could hear their whispering, hissing voices now. I could see the eyes surrounding me, the cold hands pushing me further into the ground. Her voice reappeared again, begging me to get up. She was weeping, Oh Maker the very sound tore my heart in two. She screamed for them to stop hurting me, to get away.

Isthalla, no-

I began to struggle against them, feeling every hair on my body stand on end. This wasn't right, Maker this was never right! She was gone, dead even, but no longer here! Even she knew that.

I felt a weight like none other on my chest. An invisible thickness filled and constricted my lungs. I grasped for air, shaking and trembling, as I reached for nothing and felt myself still being sucked into oblivion. I was drowning.

I was dying.

Then I saw her, beautiful and untouched memory in my fading vision. She looked at me in confusion, her amber eyes turning away in regret. I reached out for her, screaming out her name and finding no sound producing from my throat. I reached again, this time with both hands. I began to tear and jerk away from the pressure pulling me back.

My grasping became frantic, until I was kicking the faceless creatures away, desperately struggling to find my release. With a final, shattering roar of determination, I kicked the last one away and saw the darkness recede, as did the vision of her before me. She disappeared into gray smoke as I felt the world haze back around me, and my eyes found the blurry shape of the blood-stained floor.

Pain swept over my stiff body. I groaned as I tried to sit up, but found my arms too weak for the struggle. I laid there, staring empty and blank at the blood-splattered floor and trying to collect my thoughts.

Weston..

A painful stab of memory echoed in my mind. I squeezed my eyes shut with sudden, overwhelming grief of the recollection as I witnessed myself kill my comrade. Without mercy. Without regret. A quiet, stuttering sob erupted from my chest.

"So you've awoken," a voice interrupted me. I looked up from my blood-stained hand to see him standing there, a smug and unamused sneer on his face. My blood boiled as I recalled the man, finding the source of my anger and guilt placed upon his shoulders.

"U-Uldred," I choked out in a murderous whisper, attempting to crawl to my feet and murder the lying bastard where he stood. All of the magi, all the templars and innocents he had slaughtered- Nera.

Their blood stained his hands.

"B-BASTARD!" I snarled through a sob, falling back on the floor in a pile of frustrated, pained weeping. "How could you?! You KILLED them!"

"That's rather harsh," he scoffed. "I offered them something better. Better than anything you heartless templars ever could! Freedom, power, a chance to rise above their brethren!"

I could not think, could not speak. My voice was strangled, my hands bound. I stared at the blood-stained floor, tears filling my vision.

"You have done nothing but suppress our true potential, and tonight - you will pay dearly for that mistake," he growled, offering me one last, pitying look of disgust before sweeping his robes around and ascending the staircase to the Harrowing Chamber.

"Seeing as you aren't so receptive to a desire demon's offer, I will have to contain you myself," I heard him call from the top of the staircase. Out of the corners of my vision I saw a barrier drawn high up to the ceiling, pulsing with dark magic. It wasn't until I heard the sound of the chamber doors shut behind him that he released his physical hold on me, and my hands and feet were released, as was my voice.

I remained on the floor, overwhelmed with such shame and horror at what I had done, and failed to do, that I could do nothing but lie motionless and weep.

Maker, please forgive me..