For the first time in many years, Edric dreamed. He was inside that Tavern.  The whole group was there, even people he'd have swore he'd never seen. Everyone was, if not smiling or laughing, content at the very least. Zook played a familiar tune on his lute. A man got up and began dancing in quite a silly fashion. He realized that the man was an older version of him. His "dancing" elicited a few hearty laughs and many chuckles. The Tavern was clean and smelled pleasantly of food and drink. Then the scene changed. He didn't know how he knew, but he was aware it was several days later. The Tavern was in ruins, what little still stood was in flames. Very few of the people from the previous scene were here, and he had a horrible feeling they were dead. He wasn't sure why their loss affected him so much, considering that he hadn't even seen half of them.
The only people now standing in the ruins were the red-clad spell caster, Edric's future self, the northern woman, Xav, and Alex. Alex was clutching at a gaping wound in his side and leaning heavily on Boldy. The Caster was hurling fireballs at unseen foes, and the Northerner was clutching her spear. Then the enemy charged, and he recognized them immediately. Inquisitioners. They dressed in Priestly garb but wielded a multitude of weapons. At their front was a man in Gold armor. He was the architect of the Inquisition, Bishop Falor. They charged and taverners didn't stand a chance. My older self charged to meet them, conjuring a multitude of blades which he seemingly controlled telekinetically. Edric knew for a fact he wasn't currently able to do that. They fought for awhile, but it was futile.  Older Edric's blades lay on the ground as Falor held him in the air by his throat. He shoved his sword through Edric's abdomen, smiling at his cry of pain. Falor threw him to the ground so that he faced the other taverners. They were struck down one by one until only the wounded conjurer remained. Falor kneeled next to him and spoke. 
"You couldn't save the order, what made you think you could save these people." The magician was silent. Falor scoffed and drove his blade downwards towards his head. Edric awoke before the blade touched his flesh. He gasped for air, as though he had been underwater. He looked around, finding himself on the balcony in a chair. His face was covered in blood but there was no wound. He would have to make a point to thank his healer later. But, memories of the dream came to him and he cried. Edric did not cry often, not even when the Order fell, so he certainly didn't know why he was sobbing into his hands now. He spoke softly to himself.
"How could I be so weak?" he wiped his eyes, resolving that he would not would not let his dream come true. He had already failed the Order, he would not fail this new group of [i]friends[/i]. He smiled, liking the sound of that. He hadn't had people to call "friend" in quite awhile.