It was quiet, so quiet, and the lights were all out.
She could feel nothing of the cold, of the darkness that crept hungrily closer; only dreams, now. Only memories, however bitter, however cruel.
Their words echoed inside of her, resonating with the secret doubts that seethed in her chest, that clutched at her unsteady heart. You’ve failed them, time and again. You weren’t there when they needed you most.
She’d been so hard, for so long, refusing to bow her head, to bend her back and give in to the grief and pain of the many losses she’d sustained, refusing to accept them as her own. Here was a woman held together with brittle bone and tired muscle, made whole only by her stubbornness and sheer force of will; and here she was, alone at last, no one to save- and no one to save her. Now you’re well and truly alone- you can do whatever you want. It’s what you wanted, isn’t it? His words were soft, a whisper in her ear, his eyes hard and grey- that damn smile still persistent, a lie on his lips as he regarded her over the brim of his hat. It’s what you wanted, isn’t it…?
She could remember the shape of his features, the broad dark strokes of the Sigil crescent etched on his chest, the sing-song of his voice and the smile, that damned, persistent smile that never left him- It’s what you wanted, isn’t it? He jeered, now, voice mocking, striding forward as if to touch her cheek. You’re well and truly alone.
His hand passed through her, and he was gone in the blink of an eye- that voice, that damnable voice intoning softly in a sinuous curl behind her ear- you failed him. You weren’t there when he needed you most.
And she wanted to scream, she wanted to fight, but there was nothing to fight, no one to turn toward- there was only emptiness that yawned out all around her. Strahm was dead, had been dead for a year, for more than a year- And now you’re well and truly alone. You can do whatever you want. This is what you wanted, isn’t it…?
You weren’t there when he needed you most.
Her hands reached to clasp over her head, struggling to drown out the quiet voices, so soft, so insistent- once beloved. She listened for her heartbeat, but could hear only silence and her own ragged breathing. Before her, flames blossomed, a lone figure prone and gasping as he fell- those dark eyes wide, the black mask devoured by hungry flame. You give too much to emotion. You failed me. My suffering is on your shoulders.
You weren’t there when I needed you most.
She surged forward, but felt her feet catch and tangle in something- glancing down, her eyes widened. Cherry red entrails poured from an open wound in her belly, and she was tripping over them, more falling out like a spool unraveling- frantic, she reached, tried to push them back in, felt a knot in her throat as she struggled not to cry out. There was no pain. And that made it worse.
Isn’t this what you wanted? You’re all alone.
And there was Marius, tall and powerful even in his advanced years, lips thin in judgment, expression full of disgust. Reckless, risky, foolish- you weren’t fit to serve the Sigil, you aren’t fit to be a friend or an ally. Unreliable. Dangerous.
You only ever endanger the ones you love and care for. What kind of person does that, hmm?
Her spine drew straight, her murky eyes hard as she felt herself tremble in the onslaught of his words. I did my best to protect and serve- I tried–
Trying was never good enough, Chroi. You gave up on me, on Thoran; you stopped looking.
She spun, could see Myk’s face- sad and at the same time full of contempt. Thoran, a year old, grown from last she’d seen him- a bumbling boy, now. A toddler, tusks protruding past olive lips, wide eyed and fearful. The mage gathered his son closer, stepped before him as if to shield the child from the paladin. He skewered her with his gaze.
And now you’re well and truly alone. You can do whatever you want. It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?
No one to love, no one to tell you no.
But you failed us. You weren’t there when we needed you most.
The words were pebbles, and she was stone. “You’re not real, none of this is.” Her voice was hoarse, choked by tears she refused to let spill. “You’re. Not. Real.” Mykhael stared her down hard for a long, then shook his head in silent disdain. Coward. He turned, scooping his child up, and was gone as rapidly as he had appeared- briefly a figure in the mists, then nothing. She felt hollow.
And suddenly, Tia’s head stared lifeless and cold, gaze empty of the spirit that her eyes should have held. Her body was no where in evidence, the box crusted with permafrost, the severed neck cut rough and jagged. The paladin reached, goaded by instinct- “I can fix this, I can change it, I can–” The head collapsed into maggots as her fingertips brushed the icy, pale cheek. I’ll never trust you to be there for me. You’ve failed me so many times. They squirmed hungrily against the wood, writhing.
She was stone, she had to be stone and ice and bricks and metal- she couldn’t bend. She couldn’t break. Not now, not yet. Not ever.
“It’s lies, all of it, lies! I’m not listening! You can’t hurt me!” Which was a lie, in and of itself. Mayru’s green eyes, full of loneliness, full of pain- you promised you wouldn’t leave. Diane, calling out for her, torn to pieces under a pale moon. The Bastion little more than a tattered pennant and memories already fading. Cogge shaking his head, turning away; you’ve lost your path. Sir Barclay, tortured indefinitely in the cold snows of Northrend.
And now you’re well and truly alone. You can do whatever you want. It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?
The only thing worse than listening to the accusations, than reliving her loneliness and heartache- was when the voices went quiet.
Was when she was all alone.
And oh, how she was alone.
It’s what she wanted, wasn’t it?