To say her latest visit to Silvermoon was “impromptu” wouldn't mean much. All of her visits back home were unplanned, and she was grateful that she had the ability to go on a whim. Sometimes, as much as she enjoyed living at the Overhang, she just needed to see her own kind again.
To say that running into Feyoran was a surprise, however, was making an understatement. The last time they'd met, he'd left her curled up and sobbing in the snow. She hadn't exactly been looking forward to ever seeing him again. His greeting didn't make things any better.
“Miss Lin, what has he done to you?” His eyes had rounded in something akin to horror. It immediately put Lin's hackles up, and she'd never once lost her temper with him before.
“It wasn't Allidar!” she spat, thinking he was referring to her obviously-rounded belly. It seemed a logical conclusion: Death Knights weren't exactly known for their baby-making abilities. Unfortunately, then she realized that her declaration didn't make her situation look any better, and it was too late to fix it. Further explanation would only make things worse.
Turned out, she needn't have worried, because it wasn't her pregnancy he'd been referring to. There was a hardness to her, he'd said, cruelty in her features that had never been there before. What was this Death Knight doing to her?
Lin was so shell-shocked that she almost didn't hear him asking her to leave Allidar. There were no declarations of love, or of wanting her to come back to him, of course; even if he'd still held any shreds of affection for her—and she knew he didn't—he would never ask for something so selfish. But there was concern in his voice, worry that she was swiftly becoming a monster.
And perhaps she was. Who else would enjoy having pain inflicted upon them? Who else would crave it, would ask for it? Once, she would have thrashed anyone who dared do the things she now allowed Allidar to do. Now...even now, she found herself missing it.
But it wasn't just that. She was turning hard, had adopted Allidar's fierce need to win at whatever cost. Because she would never be dominant over him, she had begun taking out her aggression on the only person with whom she could get away with it: Cirrus. And he'd called her out on it, too. She was becoming someone she hardly recognized.
That was why she'd run from Feyoran, without so much as a word of farewell. It was why she was curled up on her parents' bed—dust-covered but still smelling somehow of her mother—and why she was crying her heart out. To leave Allidar was unthinkable; she did love him, and loved all the things about him even as she fought against becoming that herself. She was his balance: where he felt too little, she felt too much. Her fire helped to thaw him, and he cooled her down when her temper was raging. They would destroy each other if she became like him.
Besides, what kind of mother would she be to her child? She wanted to be like her own parents. Both Allidar's and Cirrus's childhoods seemed bereft of affection and laughter, and she would not allow that for her own child...
A noise in the apartment brought her out of her misery in an instant. Bolting upright, Lin glanced toward the doorway, which was darker even than the bedroom. She hadn't realized the sun had gone down, and wouldn't have felt the need to light any lamps even if she had. This had always been a safe place, but that noise had not been the usual sounds of settling. Someone was inside.
Lin fumbled for the lamp on the bedside table before remembering she had another means of illumination at her disposal. Thrusting her hand out before her, she called the Light to her with barely a thought. Her hand glowed brilliant and golden, casting stark shadows off the objects in the room.
And Sarin Autumnchaser, who'd just entered the doorway, recoiled as though he'd been struck by a venomous snake.
“...Papa?”
The light winked out.
