"East…?"
Ah, her voice…
The warmth of Cecilia beside him and the solid, comforting presence of Arkai and Oathran nearby… it all dissolved like sugar in black water. The cold, hard truth rushed in to fill the void.
It had been a dream.
Such a cruel, beautiful, impossibly detailed fantasy spun by a mind broken by grief. Of course it was.
The reality, that Cecilia's heart was torn out, her body lost, his own soul scoured raw with a bottomless, incandescent hatred… that was the only truth that made sense.
The other version, with its resurrected saintess and shared bonds and teasing breakfasts, was stranger than any dream. It couldn't be real. The relief he'd felt was the cruelest trick of all.
"East, baby?"
Her voice… her beautiful, beautiful voice.
