A/N: I know, I've been horrible. It's been forever since I've updated any of my non-oneshot fics. I can't beleive that it's been almost two years since I've updated OW. I don't really have much of an excuse, except for to say that I've been working on Bitter Regrets, and Eldorne's Atonement which is really intense. I have to say, if you haven't checked it out yet, you are VERY much in the dark. It's simply awesome--chapters are written by some of the best FF authors around. It's really awesome to be included. If you're interested in the story, there's a link to the account in my profile.

Anyway, I have already written the second- or third-to-last chapter, so now that I have more direction, One Wish is actually going to be going somewhere. I tried to give you a longer chapter, to make up for the absence, but it's not that much longer. I promise, though, more will come soon.

Sometimes

It's hard to see

Beyond your own soul

It's hard to believe

That you're a part

Of a larger story

And there are more controls

Than your own goals

When you're locked inside

Your heart

And frozen by emotion

Just know that you have a friend

Who will always be here for you

I'll take your hand

And someday you'll understand

That your life is always your own

Just be strong for now

And don't let go

Because too many people

Depend on your soul

-/-

Alanna whipped Lighting around her body in a complicated pattern, trying to concentrate only on the point where the metal seemed to be seared into her skin. She twirled the blade, attempting a complex pass, and failed. Her muscles twinged and she put down the sword, unable to do any more. She had been like this for almost a month now. She was too confused and upset to clear her mind enough to truly practice. She knew that everyone around her was haunted by Daine's death, but the news seemed to affect her more so than everyone but Numair. She didn't quite understand why—though the two had been friends in the seven years since Daine had came to Tortall from Galla, they hadn't been especially close. And it wasn't as if she hadn't lost a close friend before. It was the most difficult part of fighting for a living, the people you lost, and you never got used to it. But as a knight, Alanna felt that she had seen more than her fair share of losses. But why was Daine so different? Her death struck a chord in her unlike any other, even her brother's death, or Liam's.

Perhaps it was because Daine was so young…but she and Thom had both been of an age at the time of their deaths. Maybe it was because Daine had been so full of life and vitality; she was the heart that others depended on; she was always selfless. However, what struck Alanna the most, she realized, was the bitter irony of it all. Daine was half Goddess-half Immortal. She devoted her life to protecting and caring for animals and immortals. And yet, she was stuck down by a hurrok, a kinsman of sorts. It seemed so unnatural.

Alanna shook her head to clear it of her thoughts. That sort of thinking was insane. She wrote it down to the craziness of being cooped up in Kaddar's palace, and her desire to find some loophole to bring the young wildmage back.

Her practice ruined by her disturbed thoughts, Alanna picked up her weapons and returned back to her rooms. She had just enough time to bathe before she needed to report for another infernal fitting. Kaddar, being the Emperor of the wealthiest nation in the Eastern and Southern Lands, had decided to display the splendor of his country by personally outfitting all of his wedding guests in matching outfits for the occasion. Alanna thought it was fair foolish of him (to quote one of Daine's expressions, she remembered belatedly) to waste money on such lavishness when he had a slave rebellion on his hands that threatened to crumble his nation from the inside out. Still, she had spent too many years with Jonathon to not know the politics behind the decision; Kaddar had to convince his people that his nation was still as strong and wealthy and glorious as ever. Still, it was frivolous and needless.

On her way down to the tailor's, she passed Numair's room farther down in the extensive guests' wing. His door was slightly ajar, and she peered in. The lanky mage was asleep, sprawled across his bed. His eyes were red-rimmed and underscored with deep black circles. The past few weeks had worn new lines into his once perfectly sculpted face; his skin was grey and sickly, giving him the appearance of a much older man. Alanna's limbs went numb as she finally realized the gravity of her friend's situation. He was wasting away, too hurt to keep on living. She felt helpless; he needed to find something to live for, soon, but his life these past seven years had been Daine, and only Daine. There was nothing she could do.

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