Di’thang rolled over in the bed, his eyes open as they had been the whole night, for every time he had closed them he had been presented with images and memories to reawaken him. It had come now to the point that he did not dare close his eyelids, for fear of seeing the things that his own mind had begun to plague him with. Sometimes they were lies, and he saw the loss of his beloved wife or the death of his beautiful stepdaughter, yet more commonly they were truths, and Di’thang was forced to relive his murder of his step-son Lakil, or to remember the tearful face of Ar’thilmus as she discovered the boy motionless in his bed.

Di’thang sat up in his bed, groaning softly to himself. Fortunately, the noise was too soft off his cracked lips to awaken Ar’thilmus beside him. She had finally managed to fall into trance, despite his disturbed movements in the bed; he had kept as still as he could manage to allow it for her. The moon elf glanced aimlessly around the dark bedroom, his eyes straining with dark bags in the pale skin beneath them that was just one sign of his ever-growing fatigue. Di’thang brought his hands from under the covers and to his face, grinding the heels of his palms into his golden eyes, trying to rub the ache out of them. But this simply agitated the dry skin, making it rise red. Di’thang looked to the hand, just inches from his face, and noted as he had done for over a week now how they shook. In his subtle way he had shown this to Verin with much displeasure, the constant shifting of his body from steady as a rock to as shaky as a leaf.

With aching limbs, Di’thang dragged himself out of the bed, tossing the covers aside. The floorboard creaked as he lay a bare foot down on it, but the noise did not disturb his trancing wife. The weight of his body on his legs almost made them want to give out beneath him, but Di’thang pressed his hand against the wall to help guide him. Finding his leather pants, dyed black, as was all of his clothing, Di’thang pulled them on, having some difficulty getting them over his quivering feet. Now half-dressed, the tired moon elf left the bedroom, making an effort not to make a noise as he opened the door. The landing was dark, but over the years his eyes had adjusted to this, and he was able to move, his hand on the wall to keep him upright, to his stepdaughter’s room. He let go of the wall now, allowing slow steps to keep his balance as he moved towards the bed. A faint smirk lit his lips as he knelt down beside Aza’lihnlia’s bed, privately thankful of being off his feet. He could feel his body swaying slightly, and he frowned, angry with himself for not being able to rest the muscles and the mind that had been crying out for it for days.

Di’thang let his eyes wander over the sleeping form of the young child curled up in her bed, dark black, satin covers over her for warmth. Slowly he lifted his hand and placed it to Aza’s brow. His hand was steady now, no longer shaking as it had done in the bedroom and Di’thang gave a sigh. His fingers danced absently along Aza’s forehead, stroking her flowing auburn hair over her pointed ears. The ears gave a faint twitch and Di’thang realized that she was staring at him, acute golden eyes watching through the darkness. She spoke quietly, almost as if there was another sleeping in the room she wished not to disturb.

“What are you doing?”

Di’thang gave a faint smile at her; she had not moved a muscle the whole time, simply lying still and watching him, and still she lay now, her body in a position to suggest she were asleep.

“Don’t you worry…” He paused a moment, tilting his head, with hooded, drained eyes staring down on her. “Aza’… what is our name?”

Aza did not even pause to answer his question. “Di’thang.”

Di’thang gave a faint smirk, and would likely have narrowed his eyes if the muscles around them didn’t already ache as much as they did. He stroked the tip of her ear gently, soothingly, and it twitched against his fingers.

“No, Aza’lihnlia. Call us father.”

The little girl smiled weakly and gave him a nod of compliance, before lowering her head away from his fingers, curling up a little under the satin.

“Where is Lakil? I miss him.”

Di’thang gave her a pained frown and bit his lip, lowering his own eyes now to the floorboards. His thoughts roamed on that one night all those months ago, and on the nightmares his mind would keep on playing for him never to forget.

“Your brother never sinned; he is in a plane far better than this, Aza. Rest now.”

Aza’lihnlia smiled mournfully up at him and nuzzled her face into her arms, now folded neatly under her head, closing her eyes tight. Di’thang returned the smile weakly to her, and lowered his gaze to the floorboards. Still his eyes ached and his mind pounded against his skull. His limbs were steady now, but aching. Di’thang moaned weakly and curled up on the floor beside Aza’s bed, staring over the room with half-hooded eyes, trying against all hope to keep himself awake through the night.