"Sssssaaaaaashaaaa."

No.

"Sssssaaaashhhaaaa."

No, please no.

An acrid, sulfuric smell filled her nose, so stifling that she feared she might suffocate. The bitter taste of fear coated her tongue. She didn't want to open her eyes. Sasha already knew what she would see. She'd seen it many, many times before. Despite it all, despite knowing what crippled sights would greet her - Sasha forced herself to open her eyes - to see it all again.

A large, wide field spread out before her. It was black, burned, ribbons of elegant smoke rising up like twisted fingers that grasped at the blue sky until it had been consumed. Stolen away. Nothing left but the destroyed remains of her childhood home, shrouded in fire and smoke. Ruins. His handiwork.

Dark. The purest sort of midnight. Absolute nothingness. Heart-wrenching silence that seemed to seize Sasha's heart until the crippling lack of sound nearly brought her to her knees. Yes, she'd seen this place before - it was not a scene that could be so easily forgotten. Deep in her subconscious, Sasha knew this for what it was... but the surreal reality of everything... the reptilian whisper of her name... it was all a familiar torture.

And him. It was always him. He was familiar, gentle, kind - until he was not.

Until he was this.

He towered over her, amorphous and dark. He seemed to heave - a give and take of space that was overwhelming even as he shrank back - only to pulse forward once more. He made no noise and even still a static filled Sasha's mind, one that threatened to choke off her sanity until there was nothing left but an empty shell.

"What d-do you want?"

"You know."

"I don't. I don't know."

"You do. You know why I'm here. I'm here for the same reason I've always come." There was a long pause as he reformed himself into a ghost-like apparition, large and hovering over her. "For you."

And then he moved, a sleek and effortless shape that wrapped itself around the young woman, squeezing. Squeezing until the only sound that Sasha could make were little choked cries. Little pleas for help that did not give the beast pause. He was squelching every last drip drop of life from her - and he was enjoying it.

He was enjoying it - because he knew she could feel what was happening to her as she dangled helplessly within his vice-like grip. The snap of bone, the hushed whispers of lost breath - both were a poignant reminder that he had the power to do with her as he wished - and he would break her, just like he had many times before.

The pain arced throughout her body, sickly familiar.

"Sing."

Sasha's mouth opened in a soundless scream. No breath, no breath. Just endless, choking blackness as he lifted her off of the ground. Sasha knew what came next. She could never forget what came next.

Falling. Tumbling with the sort of grace that a dying bird had. A dying dove. That was a wry thought - the last Sasha had before she --

--before she woke up.

The pillowcase was wet beneath her cheek, her hand outstretched underneath, reaching. Nothing was there. Of course nothing was there. She'd thoughtlessly forgotten her flute back home. Her brain had been soggy with grief - she hadn't been thinking clearly.

No. That was a lie. Sasha knew it. It had been a goodbye. She'd left the flute behind on purpose. For so long it had been a crutch. With the opportunity to come to Deus had come the opportunity to start fresh. Leave the baggage behind. A new beginning.

It wasn't working. She needed that flute. She needed that serenity, that escape. The peace that her music brought her - the music that kept the nightmares away.

This dream was one she'd had for years. Though it happened rarely, there were times that her papa was particularly upset with her and he'd take her flute. Hide it from her as a sick sort of punishment. Sometimes for weeks at a time... and in the absence of the flute, in the hollow emptiness left behind? The nightmares came. They always came. It was her fault. She should have been better. A better daughter. A perfect daughter.

Sasha moved to her back, turning her head to peer at the nightstand. Nona gleamed brightly.

<My darling. A nightmare? I tried to.. to wake you.> Her voice was quiet, subdued and worried. Sasha reached out and picked up Nona's desummoned form, the pretty treble clef barrette.

Yes. I'm sorry, Nona.

<You are well, yes? Perhaps this requires a trip to the infirmary?>

No. No. I'm going to be fine, Nona. I'm.. it'll just.. I'll be fine. We'll be fine. They wouldn't be fine they would never be fine nothing was fine everything was broken broken broken broken --

<If my little dove is certain...> Nona did not sound convinced and yet she knew that pushing Sasha would only end up in tears... and the dark-haired girl had cried enough tonight. <Nona is here, my dove. Nona is always here.> Her voice was lyrical, soothing. Comforting in a way that only a dear, trusted companion could be.

I know.

Clutching Nona in her hand, Sasha rolled to her side and closed her eyes. Sleep would come, ushered in by Nona's soft lullaby. Sleep would come, for now.