Music: ANGEL by R Armando Morabito (ft. Julie Elven)

I stared at my reflection in the window - despondent, lost. I was going to be attending my own funeral, as was my beloved, our son, our friends and going by what I had heard on board the zeppelin an inordinate amount of people who thought, for some reason, I was important. I suppose I had been, to an extent, but my deeds had never been intended to win me notoriety. I was merely doing my job.

One of Sarah's expletives came to mind and I screamed it in my head. 

FUCK! 

 It didn't help in the slightest, other than fueling my anxiety. 

I felt my feathers prickling, almost sizzling as if infused with all the elements - tenfold - and my caws evolved into irritating shrieks as agitation built within me. 

Losing control, I omitted an almighty screech resulting in the line of clay flowerpots along the edge of the balcony being blasted with a jet of frost and fire.

Instantly I stilled.  I watched as Sarah's little array of spring blossoms curled inwards, crisped and dwindled. Sharp cracks filled the air and the pots themselves split, shattered and fell apart, spewing their contents over the balcony floor. 

My eyes followed the trail of sifting soil as it spread, tiny bulbs and stems mixed within – destroyed, burnt. The finishing touch was the cornerstone balustrade and spindle falling away into the courtyard below. Could things get any worse? I wondered, deflated.

I flinched as I heard it meet the cobbles with a dull thud. 

"Who's up there?" an angry voice shouted.

All my angst deserted me and it was replaced by a soupcon of hope. I recognised that voice! 

"We're coming up, so whoever you are you better get out of there unless you're wanting trouble!" 

It was Drew Stewart. Never was I so pleased to hear his voice, even if it was issuing a threat. I alighted the railing and waited, staring inside the study window.

It was somewhat strange to be stuck outside looking in while others entered my home. Oddly comforting too that it was people I trusted and not some vagabond thief, which was relatively common in the city. 

On a day such as today, more undesirables would no doubt see abundant opportunity in front of them, as the good people of Stormwind said their farewells to a man who was not even dead! I shuddered. My desperate predicament left me confounded.

The door to my study opened and Drew entered the room. To my profound relief, I saw he was carrying Atiesh, my Guardian staff - the stick with the ugly carving on it - retrieved from beneath the crumbling pillars.  I watched, grateful, as he leaned the staff against the shelving with all my tomes and scrolls.

Movement behind him drew my attention. A red-haired woman was looking at my desk, lightly touching the documents scattered over it. She was the one I saw with Drew, Sarah and Illidan at the Dark Portal.

Although it seemed almost pointless, I feared she would cover the journal with some of the other documents, rendering it harder for Sarah to find.

I was suddenly aware that I was being watched. Looking up I met Drew's brown eyes. He stood at the window, hands loosely by his sides, staring at me. His cacographic expression caught me unawares.

I remained stock still as he slowly, carefully undid the latch and pushed the patio doors open. He stepped onto the balcony slowly, observing the broken plant pots and their spilt contents.

I saw his jaw tighten. His gaze then locked on mine. "Boy, is Sarah going to be pissed!" he said quietly. "Don't know how you did it, you little fiend, but the lady of the house will be well annoyed with you."

I clicked my beak in response. Drew raised an eyebrow. I saw a ring-clustered hand come round his arm, then the red-haired woman appeared at his side. 

She looked at me also, firstly with surprise then her features adopted a melancholy veil. "Would be nice if it were him, would it not?" she whispered to Drew.

He sighed and clasped her hand. "I wish it was, for Sarah's sake and Ocel's, but we know better."

I cawed at the mention of my family's names. 

Drew smiled wistfully. "She looks skyward every day, Bernie, hoping he will come to her." He glanced at the woman, patting her hand. Then he turned back to me. "He is gone - forever." 

I cawed more enthusiastically - Sarah still looked for me! Perhaps she didn't believe me dead? 

"Leave raven!" Drew said forcefully. "You will give her false hope if she sees you when she comes home."

I stayed put, defiant.

"It doesn't understand," Bernie said, her hands clasping Drew's arm.

Drew shot forward, stamping his foot as he did so. "Be gone!" he shouted. 

I was startled into flight. Rising, I circled the balcony but refused to fly away.

Another voice came from within the house and I saw Erik stumble out onto the balcony. Drew pointed skyward muttering something under his breath. Erik looked up and I saw him scowl. 

"Ah'll take the bugger doon," the Dwarf said, lifting his bow.

Drew launched a piece of broken pottery at me which I swiftly dodged and flew to the other side of the balcony. 

 "I said be gone!" he shouted at me. 

I wasn't going anywhere. I now knew Sarah still had hope and no matter how infinite it was, I was going to stay and somehow ensure she knew it was not in vain.

Drew's second missile missed me too. I was preparing to dodge a third when an excruciating pain erupted just beneath my left wing. I swooped a couple of times, then I felt the air rushing past as I plummeted.

The pain intensified as I crashed down through the apple tree in our garden. I felt and heard something snap, near my wing. I landed on my back upon one of the broader limbs of the tree, the wind knocked out of me.

My world was blurry, the leaves and branches merging into a misty concoction of greys, browns and greens, peppered by the soft pink of the blossoms.

My head flopped to the side and then I saw a broken arrow shaft protruding from the front of my scapula at the wing joint. 

That damn Dwarf shot me! I felt the blood on my chest, its coppery scent rising in the late spring breeze.

As consciousness started to slip, I inwardly groaned at the irony of it all. 

Sarah's friends had warded me off, thinking a raven would just serve a painful reminder of the man she mourned. Yet, in doing so, they may have inadvertently made my death a reality, and robbed Sarah and me a chance for happiness again.

If I somehow survived this, I was going to make sure Erik Longmaster never forgot the day he nearly killed me. 

With that last, almost amusing thought, blackness swallowed me whole.