Faith.

[Lamai]

"Everything," she whispered faintly to Tybalt. "Everything, and it did not matter."

Her tiny form was swallowed in the shirt of a man that wasn't that much bigger than she. There was little protest as to where she went; if he was not going to leave her to die, did it matter where she went? Everywhere would be the same.

Her head cradled upon Altias' shoulder as he drew her close. She shivered, and there was a chill to her flesh, but it was difficult to tell if it was from the night's chill or from the fire's absence. She refused to beg for death's release, but it was still there, in the forefront of her mind.

How could she possibly survive this?

Once upon a time, she would have warned them both of the third approach. Once upon a time, she would have confronted it. Now, there was only a brush of a desperate mind, a discarding of the identity that was still wrong. It wasn't him. He wasn't striding along the grass to save her.

She was still alone in the Hell where he'd left her.