Ornell and the Burning Fist were basically camping in the city of Istan. She was waiting for something. Something she knew was happening but had no proof of it as of yet. She hated keeping them here. She hated feeling like time was slipping away from her and that she had done nothing... nothing...
The feeling didn't even depart in her sleep. Her nightmares had become more solid. They had once been fragile things, flickering and not substantial at all. Now, she felt like they were becoming more and more true. This night more then any other. This night, in her dreams, she watched Taras burn.
She was rooted in spot in her dream. Only there to watch it. She could do nothing... nothing... and she felt herself crying and tossing and turning. She couldn't wake up, she could do nothing but watch as the city burned and the people fled the once safe haven. She woke with a horse scream and staggered out of bed. Valen wasn't there that night. He had gone off for some reason of his own. She was damp with sweat, the air feeling like ice upon her skin. She immediately wrapped a blanket around herself and left her room seeking out Sarin.
He was close, the very next room, but she felt like it took forever to get that far. She knocked on the door in the early morning. It wasn’t even daylight yet, but that was only a few hours away. She knocked on the door. “Sarin?” her voice broke with the word and she wasn’t able to voice what she had seen in her nightmare. Should he answer the door, he would se a very frightened looking Ornell, her hair a mess, and for the most part hidden beneath a blanket. Her bare feet were feeling cold though… “Sarin…” She repeated, almost a plea.