*storms out of the Arrow*

The door slammed shut behind him, and Azeron almost lost his footing as he made his way down the stairs, and onto the soft grass in front of the Silver Arrow. He was physically shaking, he was so angry. He made it to the edge of the clearing, and he paused for a moment, wondering if he was acting irrationally. Perhaps it was the pain that still ached in him of losing his brother less than a week ago. Perhaps it was the ailment that Melyanna had been suffering from in the past days. He tried to find his center, hoping to focus enough to find clarity.

He heard the door slam again behind him. Someone else had left the Arrow. He turned his head to see who was behind him, and found, to his relief, that it was Melyanna. He took a deep breath and prepared to speak.

Instead, it was as if he was hit by a dagger from behind. “Fine Mela, support the bigots,” she yelled. Azeron physically lurched. From anyone else, it would just have been words. But this was Melyanna, his wife, with whom he shared a spiritual bond. The words hit with more force than he could have imagined. But still she shot the accusations. “You do not understand!”

Azeron trembled, his mind caught on the edge between anger and agony. He heard Melyanna’s footsteps pounding behind him, marching East towards the guild hall. His knuckles were white with pain as he clenched them desperately. But instead of returning the hostility against his bond-mate, he gathered what concentration he could and uttered a Kal Ort Por. And an instant later, he was gone.

And in the desperate, lonely, sleepless hours that followed, he could only think of Melyanna’s words, echoing over and over in his mind.

Her words rang through her mind as she felt the pain she unintentionally inflicted on her husband and bond-mate. Blinded by her tears and her exhaustion, she barely managed to murmur Kal Ort Por, she lingered a moment then disappeared.

A few moments later, mentally and physically exhausted, she unlocked the door to the home she shared with Azeron, hoping against hope that he would be there. Her heart almost broke when she entered the empty home. "Mela, I did not mean to yell at you," she reached out her thoughts, trying to find him. "Please forgive me..." her thoughts trailed off as she felt no response , other than his own overwhelming pain and exhaustion.

Moving more from habit than conscious thought, she picked up her brush and moved to the window overlooking the ocean. It was one of the few things that seemed to thrive in this decaying world. Slowly she dragged the brush through the auburn tresses, carefully working out the tangles. The soothing action of the bristles against her scalp soon relaxed her enough, that in her exhaustion she slipped into reverie leaning against the window sill.

Melyanna walked through the forest, the limbs from the huge trees sheltering her from the rain that beat at them. She followed the trail left by the wounded bear, trying to calm it enough to allow her to care for it. As she passed them the trees withered, their leaves falling to the ground. Up ahead the wounded bear had stopped, allowing Melyanna to catch up to it. Allow me to bandage your leg, gentle one, she murmured as she wrapped an herbal salve covered bandage around the wound. She looked up from the bear, missing the flashing red eyes. When she looked back down the bear was gone.

Frowning, Melyanna looked around for the bear. Off in the distance she noticed a village. Leather clad feet seemed to take on a life of their own. Soon she stood on the outskirts of the village. It seemed vaguely familiar to her. And then it dawned on her, this was her home. She looked around, smiling at people as they saw her. She continued to wander through the village, looking for her home and her mother. At the village center was a funeral pyre surrounded by elves. There was her mother, tears streaming down her beautiful face. Melyanna looked towards the pyre, it was her father. She watched from where she was, unable to take her eyes from the scene. Clutching her mother's hand was the young Melyanna. This should have surprised her, but somehow Melyanna was not. Just then, the younger Melyanna meet the elder's emerald eyes and pointed to the pyre. Melyanna followed the trail to the pyre and gasped. The clothing the corpse was wearing was familiar, very familiar. The red skullcap, red surcoat, white fancy shirt and black pants...it could only be one person. Azeron! "NUMA!" she screamed just as the pyre was set aflame. She started to run towards the pyre but it just seemed to get further and further away. Just when it seemed as if she was going to reach it, the flaming corpse sat up, red eyes flaring as a flaming finger lifted, pointing accusingly at Melyanna. "You did this to me!!" accused the burning Azeron.

"NUMA, I did not mela!" screamed Melyanna, startling out of reverie. Her heart felt as if it were about to burst as frantic eyes looked about the now darkened room, searching for her husband...