Ghost Lion Crag would you be the wind, blowing me home

Just three weeks ago Wraen had visited Moonspear, feeling so calm and sure of herself. A ghost that had made its peace with life and the past and had only decided to take a short excursion in the world left behind. The journey had been interesting and eventful in the beginning. Reconnecting with an old friend. Paths crossing with other ghostly wanderers. Making new acquaintances. Walking down the memory lane in places that had witnessed Wraen grow and mature. Settling records straight with people that had once been close and then become distant. Playing with utter lack of knowledge and structure of her ethereal presence here. 

Her spirit on the other side of the veil had forgotten all about shadows of this world, the contrasts and pains, preferring a comfortable, peaceful existence. Forgetting that the darkness was, what made life in this world so full and so much worth living. The longer Wraen spent time here, the less sure she had grown of the afterlife she had created for her. It now seemed just like a faded dream. And the people she had seen there, had been simply reflections of, how she remembered them. She had left Maia and Brecheliant behind aware that her imagined paradise had been a house of mirrors, where nothing had been real. That she, who had been so sure about the life after death, did not know nothing at all. 

In the past few days she could no longer appreciate the beauty of the world she had once lived in. She no longer wished to find other old friends, because they would simply be another painful reminder that she there was no one waiting for her there. She was not even sure, what "there" even meant. She had believed in having a choice, but it all had been an illusion. A borrowed time, before something else that she did not know the name of. A ghost cannot die again, at least that Wraen was sure of, but not knowing, what was really out there or would it be another imagined thing, scared her. What was worse - there was no one she could ask. No one to turn to. 

The anguish and fear felt eternal. It consumed all the good Wraen had lived through, took over every fibre of her being and left her a crying mess. Her ghostly form was fading to nothingness and she was not yet ready to stop existing. She, who had claimed not to fear death and chaos, now would have given up all to have just a little more time. 

Time stops for the dead, but it seemed someone had heard her and added just a couple of sand grains to Wraen's long quiet hourglass. She felt a pull and all of a sudden there she was standing before him. "You heard," Wraen said through tears and closed the distance to bury herself in his embrace. "You came," she whispered against his fur through sobs. He felt real and for a moment his presence blocked out all the darkness that had taken over her.