A shadow. A cloud over the sun. Wraiths swirling everywhere. Screams, and cries, and panic. And she was the cause. She had done this! It was all her fault- all her fault…!
“Pells! Pells, wake up- Pellinore-” The deep voice was uncharacteristically scared, with a quiver Pellinore had never heard in it before. She jolted awake and sat up quickly to find herself in his arms. Sweat plastered her long brown hair to her head. Sobs wracked her body, but he held her tight against him. He stroked her hair and kissed her forehead, murmuring comfort into her ear.
Finally she was done crying. She wiped her eyes and tried to compose herself. She hated showing weakness, but that dream… it always killed her, that dream.
“Pellinore, baby, are you ok?”
“I- yeah, I’m ok.”
“Yeah. The dream again. But I’m alright.”
“Just remember, it’s not true. It’s never going to be true. I’ll make sure of it.”
She looked up at him, uncertainty clear in her eyes. “I don’t know, Accamel. I just don’t know.”