A worgen witch disaster.

Idella’s head swam as her feet floated and stumbled over the cobblestone pavement. The arms that held her books clutched them to her chest in a vice grip — one nearly as tight as the invisible grip that hitched her breath and clenched her heart. She felt lightheaded yet rushed, like a person knowingly dizzy yet helpless in the face of an oncoming doom. The fear of this doom was intimate, intent, incoming, yet faceless. As its dreaded arrival finally came down upon her, she took in the shadows of its face, turned, and ran.

The streets of Stormwind blurred. Sprinting without care to propriety or passerby, Idella crossed the distance between the Cathedral to her shop in record time. The door was shut and locked behind her without conscious thought. Books clattered to the floor, some pouring their paper contents and breaking their bindings. Chest heaving, Idella leaned heavily upon the door frame. To her, the sprint was both a blink and eternity, and though she felt winded as she took frozen in the shadow of the Cathedral minutes before, her breath was far worse from the sudden run and panic that overtook her.

Despite her sprint, despite the distance behind her, the young witch felt the fear finally arrive and take its awaited hold. Like a predator finally exhausting its prey, it greedily robbed her of her breath, her dignity, and her strength, taking them all and leaving her with none. Chest heaving, Idella slid to the floor, shaking and hyperventilating, her mind driven away from her surroundings as fear assailed her with its every merciless whim. It overtook her, completely and utterly, leaving her curled and heaving, shaking, crying on the dark shop floor.

Long moments passed. Fear departed long before Idella finally roused, her hands shaking as she pressed her palms against the floor and unsteadily pushed herself up. Her cheeks and the wood floor where they lay were soaked in tears she did not recall spilling. Her mind felt parched, as if from a drought or worn as if after treading an impossible distance, unable to form much more than the simplest thought. Giving in to that singular thought, Idella crawled to her bed and with great effort, drew herself upon it. She disappeared beneath the covers till morning, fully clothed, shoes and all, her sleep interrupted only by long unblinking stares at dark walls.

Author Idella
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