Emma was dreaming.
There was blood, a river of it running. There was pain, a sea she was floating in. Would it never end? A thousand cuts, burns, the taunting laughter telling him it would go on for all eternity.
She could not believe she was so helpless, could not believe her incredible power and strength had been drained from her, leaving her reduced to such a pitiful state. She sent mental call after call out into the night; none of her kind came to help her. The agony continued, and went on relentlessly.
Where were they? Her kin? Her friends? Why wouldn't they come to her and end this? Had it been a conspiracy? Had they deliberately left her to these butchers who wielded their knives and torches with such delight? It had been someone she knew who had betrayed her, but the memory was curiously fading, obscured by endless pain.
