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Again and again these visions tormented her, like an endless stream in which she had been trapped by her actions and her own mind.
Again and again she felt herself wake, only to find herself covered in sweat and entangled in her blankets as if she had fought a very fruitless fight against it, only to then very quickly fall into the dark again, exhausted by the events of the day, as much as her dreams.
Abigail, Isaac, Jeannemary, Magnus... all of them gone, never to be heard again. And it was all her fault.
One time she woke and noticed her face was wet, only to realise she was crying, sobbing, gasping for air as she drenched her pillow in tears.
"I'm sorry", she whispered weakly. "I'm sorry..."
Just as she was about to drift away again, she suddenly felt a touch on her shoulder which jerked her awake, panic bubbling to the surface like a foul gas.
But before she could reach for her rapier, she could see Harrows face above her, barely illuminated by the diffused moon light falling through the window from outside.
Her face looked different from the usual disgruntled, to eyerolling or just straight up resting bitch face.
She looked sad, maybe even worried.
"Gideon...", she whispered gently, a tone of voice that would have made the cavalier question her sanity, if she had not been so exhausted.
The touch she had felt was her necromancers hand on her shoulder, as she knealt next to her.
"Go to sleep, there's nothing here", she said in a tone much more similar to her usual impatience, still a bit off, but Gideon felt reassured that it was still Harrow.
And so she closed her eyes again and tried to fall back asleep, letting herself be swallowed by sweet unconsciousness.
She could still feel Harrows hand on her shoulder, light and warm, an unusual sensation, but an instinctually welcome one in that moment.
Slowly, her breath stopped juttering like an ancient generator as she calmed down and her tears ran dry.
Gideon was uncertain if she was dreaming again, she probably was because ther was no way it could be real, but she felt Harrow scoot closer and place a hand on her head, gently brushing over her messy ginger hair.
"It's all my fault", the necromancer whispered as a few tears ran down her own face, glittering like stars in the moon light.
"I am so sorry..."