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It took much coaxing to get them to come out of their hiding
places. When they did, it was carefully and in small groups of two
and three. He smiled in order to reassure them. They smiled back.
When they were close, he let loose the flame.
They shrieked and ran. He could not tell if he had burned any
of them. Truly, he had only meant to play with them. He was
horrified at himself. With a terrible cry, he shot into the heavens.
The clouds were not high enough for him. He flew up and up,
seeking the stars and the powers behind them. His cry ripped
through the fabric of reality, touching the ears of the gods
themselves.
They were there. Opposites. The Queen of Darkness and the
brilliant figure clad in platinum armor. Both reached for him. He
heard the countless voices crying to him, calling to him as a parent
calls for a child who is lost. Almost he came to them.
The light frightened him, though. It wanted to twist him, make
him other than he was. B'rak turned and fled, flying to the safety
and security of the Queen of Darkness. She welcomed him back.
All turned to black. The voices wailed at the loss and then faded
away.
B'rak woke with a start. He hissed loudly in the darkness,
having taken it for part of his dream. Someone stirred nearby. The
draconian sniffed. Sith. No one else. Vergrim had apparently
decided to seek rest elsewhere.
Sith hissed in his sleep, apparently the victim of dreams not to
his liking
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