(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

scars deep and knotted into hard lumps that undulated beneath the flesh. I
passed along cobbles craft of sorrow and mortared with tears, fossilized
remnants of words unsaid and stillborn dreams. They whispered with each
step, eating away at that shroud I tried to keep around myself like maggots.
I should've...
Should never have...
I felt my jaw drop, saliva ropy and slick between teeth chilled into ice by the
wind. The gale swallowed my screams, and the whispers continued to drive
me to the edge of my sanity.
Something fluttered in the distance: a gown azure as the sky and gray as
mourning clouds.
Deionarra...
My pace quickened, lamentations crunching beneath my boots. For a
moment the whispers fled, or quieted as I neared the ghostly form. Her
spectral gown stirred in some ethereal breeze, her hands remained folded in
front of her in her eternal vigil. She stood at the edge of the black stone
causeway, staring out into the emptiness of the Plane. She had no fear of
losing herself... little else remained that could be taken from her. Now and
again her shoulders shook with the quiet weeping that came when no more
tears remained. She was so sad. And so beautiful.
"Deionarra...?"
She spun to face me, eyes widening in shock. She reached out as if to touch
me, but her hand stopped short of my chest and drew back. "My Love! You
should not be here! You must leave at once!"
"Deionarra, what is this place? Is this the Fortress?"
"This is the Fortress of Regrets. It is the place that holds the moment of my
death prisoner, and I may not stray far from its halls. If you can find a way
back to Sigil you must; if you stay here, my Love, you shall die."
My mouth went dry at her dire warning, "What about my immortality?
Surely, I'm still immortal, even here...?"
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