anya thinger

It was getting harder and harder to sleep.

The journey wasn't a complete loss, of course. Anya was able to look over at the friends she had made, people she knew she would never forget. Hell, one of them had his arms around her right now, holding her close to his broad, strong body. That gave her some grounding, but everything else about this venture was harder to swallow. Every step it seemed there was another lie, another half-truth. This story had too many missing pages.

She closed her eyes, trying to rest. She was no stranger to ambiguity. That she was even strong enough to be of any use to her friends was thanks to the vast beings that whispered to her, that gave her just a touch of the immense powers they possessed. Sometimes their twsted voices would drown out what went on around her, but that was alright. It was still strength. It was still power. In a way, it was a comfort.

This, however, was more than she could take. The voices she normally heard, as she understood, were not good or evil, merely different. On an entirely different plane of morality. But here, who was to say if what they were doing was right? As the story filled in more, it seemed only that they were seeking to beat down someone who was clearly still grieving. That couldn't be the right path....

As her mind still spun with conflict, she slipped into sleep without even knowing. And began to dream.

[She found herself back in the ruined city, the remnants of horrible magic making her head throb and ache. It was worse this time, as the air itself seemed to vibrate with the wrongness. The buildings were shedding debris, still crumbling as she walked. The temple still stood, blackened and charred just as it had been when she found it in the real world. She moved closer.

It was hard to tell at first, but there was something inside. Two feathered white wings were all that could be seen, and their appearance was soon followed by the sound of doglike whimpering. It was a golden wolf, hunched over the body of a black fox. The fox's fur was burnt away, in some places to the bone, the soft tissues in its face completely destroyed.

She nearly started screaming at this point, but couldn't. The dead fox... it looked so much like her sister. It could have been her. If she couldn't be strong enough, it would be her. Through all the lies and danger, it was only a matter of time before something snapped, before someone was lost.

She got on her knees, sitting by the wolf and crying over the dead fox. The beast looked up at her, its icy eyes locking with hers.
It wrapped a wing around her, pulling her close as they both mourned, pouring out their sadness together.

It felt right.]