The sound of another gem shattering broke the peace of the Aldor Tier yet again. Her slender fingers would not cease their trembling. As the sun began to rise over Shattrath, Annaliese only began to notice that she had not slept at all. She gazed around the room, in which a multitude of cut gems lie around her, thousands, perhaps. Eyes sore, overworked, she picked up another gem, a talasite, and began to grind it with the heavy stone methodically.
"What...oath? There is no oath...no more..." she whispered to herself, the talasite gem held tightly between her hand and the grinding stone. Wound tight, on edge, she recollected the words from the voice over the stone earlier that day.
"The Dark Lord reminds you of your oath, and he wishes for you to remember him."
The talasite gem broke under the pressure, a large piece of it shattering and lodging in her hand. Gasping under the sudden pain of the injury, Annaliese rushed to gather a strip of cloth from the nearby desk. Blood weeped from the glimmering shard stuck between forefinger and thumb. Though her eyes were hardly able to keep open from the lack of sleep, still, they were drawn to the flow of blood.
A flurry of images swept through her mind, the ritualistic taking of demonic blood, cut fresh from the vein of a Dreadlord, the exalted silence of others around her as she drank it down, sealing her oath to the Great Dark.
Somewhere, came the whisper, indistinguishable from reality or memory...
Darkness embrace you all.
"I am not bound by the oath! You are dead!" she cried out, the talasite flung across the floor, shattering further into small pieces. The empty bed served for comfort as she wavered toward it, her hands cradling her head in frustration. As her blood crept down her fingers, down her wedding ring, down her wrist, the lingering bit of cloth was forgotten as well as the pain of the wound, and sleep became a close friend.
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