Words from the past came flooding back in as quiet murmurs about the creeping storm began, as Briallen remembered her tutor's words when she was young, after she'd dramatically said she wished she could die instead of eat any Brussel sprouts with dinner.[i]"Briallen, you must be careful what you wish for. You never know who's listening. Especially this close to the Faewilds, child.[/i]

Briallen felt as though she might be sick. She regretted her earlier thoughts, she just wanted this ordeal over with, smoothly, as planned. The winds only seemed to pick up after her father made his quiet comment, as though angered. Was this some Faerie trick because of her hopes for a rain-out? Was Alyuin doing this for her wicked and selfish thought? Or just to scare her? To scare everyone? Her veil was ripped from her hair, and she reached for it with her free hand reflexively. It moved unnatural in the air, floating upwards instead of being blown one direction or another. Before she could process the strangeness, the sky [i]roared[/i]

Her ears rang, the world unclear from the force of the thunderclap. Had she screamed? She wasn't sure, but she did once she saw people being lifted into the wind, tossed about like ragdolls, joining silken decorations and wooden furniture being whisked about. She clung to her father, desperately, wanting to close her eyes, but unable to stop watching the carnage. The new future she had almost made peace with seemed as tattered and torn as the banners, ripped from their posts. The massive creaking cry of trees being uprooted joined the cacophony.

Briallen looked towards the sky, sentient and living with beasts for which she had no name. Their cunning eyes all seemed focused on one thing: her.

[i]Please let this stop,[/i] she thought, as the wind pulled at her. It felt as though a rope had been tied around her ankles, being pulled skywards while it pushed Draenir away. She wanted to scream at him to not let go, please, [i]please,[/i] do not let go. She heard the desperation in his voice as he called her name, as her fingers began to slip. She could find no words to speak as she met her father's eyes. She wanted to apologize, to tell him she loved him, to say goodbye. But she knew what she needed to do.

"Whoever you are, please, stop!" she screamed, as loudly as she could over the shrieking wind. "If it's me you want, just... just take me, you bastard," she declared, voice somewhere between a war cry and a sob.

Even if she had wanted to, she couldn't hold on any longer. The moment she lost her grip on her father felt like an eternity, like she would forever feel her fingers relinquishing control to the storm.

She squeezed her eyes shut, frightened, and not wanting to see her father's face as the wind picked her up with a unnatural sense of direction and purpose.