A/N: Here's the next chappie. Thanks to all my great reviewers. Hope you like it! P.S. I'm gonna need Idea bouncer-offers within the next coupla chapters. So if you want to volunteer for duty to make me write faster, than email me! P.P.S. Updates will prbably come alot slower after this. I just have some free time today.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. All bow down to the Almighty Tammy!

One wish

One heart, one soul

One life to live

And I'll never let you go

Again

Oh, how I love you so

Just one wish

It's all I'm asking for

One wish

- /-

The night watch called the midnight hour, and admired the peaceful hush that had fallen over the capital city. The lights had all been long since extinguished at the palace, except for a single beam of candlelight that shone from King Jonathon's study. The Conte king sat slumped at his desk, his handsome face cast into contrast by the lambent glow of the candle, weariness evident in his blue eyes. He absently scratched at his paper, feeling uneasy. Tortall had only recently lost its Wildmage, and she took with her their Black Robe mage. Numair had been so torn after Daine's death that he had stopped doing everything he had once loved and enjoyed.

With a sigh, Jon looked back at the notice that was pinned under his left elbow. It was dated from two weeks ago. Raoul reported that there had been unusual and suspicious activity noticed by the townspeople who lived near the Tyran border. Two spies had been caught and questioned, revealing nothing that Myles had not already told them. They had enemies in Tyra, powerful enemies. Raoul requested the use of Daine and Numair for the next few months. The notice was dated five days before Daine's death, so Raoul had not known the terrible news. He might still not know. There had been a subtle undertone of uneasiness radiating from the Tyran border, and Raoul had been hard to locate as of late.

What should he do? As king, Jon could order Numair to get himself together and aide his country, but his heart would not let him do it. The devastated look in the Mage's eyes when Alanna had pronounced Daine dead had been crushing. Jon had looked into Numair's eyes and seen a grief so much greater than he himself had ever felt, even after his mother's death and his father's suicide. The hollowness, the sense of being lost that had radiated from Numair still haunted his dreams. And as a friend, he could do nothing.

- /-

Numair Salmalin slept fitfully, his mind tortured by the same dreams that he had since Daine's death. He stood trapped behind a pane of glass, watching Daine in red-tailed hawk form. He saw her dive to escape a hurrok, only to be cut down by another. He pounded on the barrier in front of him, yelling, screaming her name, but his voice was muffled and his hand bled where it had touched the screen. He watched in horror as he relived seeing her bird-form plummet to the ground. He saw himself, too numb to move, to use his almost depleted magic. "You could have saved her." An eerie voice that was not his own sent shivers down his spine. "If you had used you magic, she might have lived. But all you could do was think about what would happen if she died. You have been, and always will be, a dreamer, not a doer. Daine would have tried to help you. Daine would have done something. You KILLED her!" The voice screamed.

"There was nothing I could do," Numair murmured, choking back tears of rage and sorrow, as he had the past nights. "I couldn't save her. I was powerless."

"Ha!" the voice spat. "A Black Robed battle mage unable to do anything in battle." Numair stiffened. He had heard this voice before, and not just in his dreams.

"Who-what- are you?" he asked, his voice thick with grief. He tried to search his mind, his memories for an answer, but the only thing that sprung to life was an image of Daine's ghostly pale, bloodless face.

As he jolted awake, sweat on a brow, the voice softly remarked, "You will come to me soon. Then we will see." A cruel laugh lit the air around Numair. He shook head, as if to clear the sound from his mind. This had not happened on the other days, he noted as he told himself he had only imagined this cryptic dream message.

A/N: Nothing like a good cliffie to start your day. I know, everyone hates them, but I just had to do this. So? What do you think? Do you love it? Hate it? Want to bash me on the head? Click the button so I know!