Once again, she dreamt, only this time, things were different. Since she had gone to Draenor and returned, she had not once dreamt of her past. Again, she was in her father's burning forge, trying vainly to save him. Only this time, it was not dwarves that taunted them, but those of her new clan. The goblin Pikki laughing creuly; the elf Rode dragging a captive orc by her hair into a dark corner, the mad fire of lust in his eye. The Chieftan, Krom'gosh, was the one tormenting her father, the words his very own: "Your whelp is going to die with you... because she loves you." From then on, it was the same as always, save the constant, echoes of Krom'gosh's laughter permeating all.

Then, as the motlen steel cascaded over her father - which was usually when she awoke - everything went black and silent. Now, she was utterly alone in a pitch-dark void. And from everywhere around came the whispers of her own voice: "It WAS your fault... Trust is your weakness... Your friends will abandon you... Kill them all, before they kill you..." She closed her eyes and clapped her hands over her ears to blot out the sounds, which promptly stopped. Upon opening her eyes again, she gasped, for before her was a city unlike any she had every seen.

While some aspects reminded her of her days in Silithus, with its geometrical arches and penchant for obelishs, it was awash with hidden light that came from everywhere yet nowehere at once. Platforms and terraces seemed to hover in the void, interconnected by webs stronger than stone.

And from deep within the city came a wave of palapble fear, and borne on the tide was a whisper, yet louder than she booming of dwarven artillery. "In the sinken city, he lies dreaming..."

Down they went, ever further into the strangeness beneath Northrend. Jedoga had joined up with a small band of like-minded adventurers to explore and clear out the city of the Nerubians. Four others that she had never met before then, but the pay way realtively good, and they seemed trustworthy enough. All she needed to do was keep them alive with her affinity for healing earth and cleansing water...

Yet, as soon ash she caught her first glimpse of it, she knew. This was the place she had visited in her dreams, and now, just like then, an inexplicable dread struk her, as the party devled onward enthusiatically through the stone and silken streets. It was a very dread of Azol-Nerub, of the city's sheer physicality, its nightmare endlessness, of streets, courts, crescents and terraces, of web-shrouded stone and death-blackened brick. A nausea of awnings, a nastiness of casements, an ugliness of platforms lashed together with webbing; a horrible prevelance of blue fiery lamps, and clawing granie obelisks. The city seemed to stretch around them like some pitiless abyss of forgotten time.

"Death is close..." someone said. "Of course it is," Jedoga grumbled, "the Scourge are everywhere." The tauren warrior at the front raised a hand to call a halt. "What?" he said, puzzled. The others turned to look at her. "Nothing," she said, shrugging. "I was just agreeing..." "Agreeing with what?" asked the gun-toting orc. This was becoming more awkward by the moment. "With whoever said 'Death is close'..." They all stared at her. "What?" "Nobody has said anything since the scourged Nerubian elder," said the tauren.

The thought came unbidden, unsolicided, and violently, as her own voice whispering in her ear: "Your friends will abandon you... your corage will fail... you are weak, you will die..." She knew better than to argue aloud, and so did her best to ignore the whispers of what she concluded were the restless spirits of the city. Yet still the alien thoughts persisted. "Give in to your fear... Kill them all, before they kill you. They have turned against you, can't you see?" They had been acting strangely ever since earlier, muttering amongst themselves and giving her an occasional, sidelong glance. That didn't mean they were plotting. "Very well, then. You will see... they will all betray you, and you will be alone in the end."

They were now deep within the Old Kingdom, Ahn'aket, and climbed the steps to the great temple of that deathly strange and abandoned city. As they entered the desecrated and falled holy place, a great, misshapen figured came forth from the gloom. Jedoga's mind reeled at the sight of this monstrous, faceless crature, the appearance of which she could not fully fathom or comprehend. Her mind froze in teorror, even as her companions blindly ran forward to confront it. To even look upon it tested her sanity, so utterly alien and indescribable it was to her. "Give in to your fear," whispered a voice - her own, it seemed - but Jedoga refused, putting the sanity-afflicting image of the faceless creature out of her mind and focusing her gaze on the others as she healed them.

Suddenly, they turned on her, each and every one of them. They ran towards her, the tauren whilding his axe, and the orc firing wildly at her, the wild gleam of insanity in their eyes. Desperately she fought them off, recalling the voices warning of their betrayal. Then, just as suddenly as they had turned, the others were gone, vanished in smoke, and once again, they were fighting the abberation. She shook her head wearily: a trick of the mind, some foul magic of this creature's design, and when it happened again, she knew better this time. These were not the real thing, but hallucinations.

At last, the faceless one fell, and the others gathered around to look at it more clesely; Rohkstrom instead turned away to collect her thoughts and reinforce her fragile mental state. It troubled her deeply that there was so little disctinction between the real and the unreal; did you dream while asleep or was it merely an escape from the horrors of reality? "It is standing right behind you," whispered a voice, "Do not move... Do not breathe..." A hand touched her shoulder... it was not over, this was another hallucination. So she struck back with all her fury, calling upon lightning to knock the phantasm backwards even as she turned and unleashed more lighting from her fingertips. Yes, the images were more convincing this time, more solid in appearance... "Kill them all," shouted the voices, "before they kill you... They are not truly your friends, see how they turn against you... now, take your revenge!" The screams, the smell of charred flesh and ozone... it all seemed so real. For just a moment she flashed back to the fateful day in Alterac, and realized... it wasn't a hallucination. This was too real to be wrong.

In addition to the heap of alien flesh that was the faceless creature, four other bodies were strewn about the fallen temple: a tauren, an orc and two elves. A lump caught in her throat. Wht had she done?

"It was you or them," the voices reassured her, "They were coming for you. Either you betrayed them or they you..." She nodded slowly. They had been acting suspicious, after all...

From somwhere in the caverns of Azol-Nerub came a mild breeze that wafted through the temple, caressing her face. Upon the wind a deep voice seemed to float, muttering in some incomprehensible tongue. "Y'knath k'th'rygg k'yi mrr'ungha gr'mula..."