Dragonshire (This is the original version, extremely different from the other one)

I was surrounded by darkness for a moment, then I found myself in a room that had one candle on the nightstand. A sickly woman with curly blonde hair and blue eyes lay in a bed. Two young girls were sitting on one side of the bed, their gazes fixed on the woman in bed. Tears were streaming down their faces.
That's me and Lacey as little kids, I realized, and that must be Momma when she's about to die.
"Girls, promise you won't forget me," said Momma.
"You're not going to die Momma! You can't!" said the little me.
"We all know that's a lie."
"Don't say that!" cried little Lacey.
Momma reached up to touch their faces and they held her hands there.
"Girls just promise me one thing. Don't ever think you are alone, because I will always be with you in your hearts," Momma closed her eyes now and whispered, "And don't ever forget that I love you." Then she closed her mouth, and died. I walked over to one side of the bed.
"I haven't Momma," I said out loud. I was crying and tried to hug her, but I passed right through her.
This isn't real, I realized, I must be under a spell. This is Salindath's doing, he knew we were here somehow. That's how he got us, an ambush. We were the rats he had been talking about.
Suddenly, the scene vanished and a new one appeared. I was outside and Momma, alive, Lacey, and I were standing over something. I walked over and sprawled on the ground was Papa, his eyes closed and skin pale. He was breaking out in a cold sweat.
"No!" I screamed. "Not again!" I crouched down and buried my face in my arms. "Make it stop!" I cried. "Make it stop!" I felt as though I would be sick and opened my eyes. I was completely alone and surrounded by darkness. But I wasn't alone. I remembered what Momma had said, 'Don't ever think you are alone, because I am always with you in your hearts.'
I began thinking of all the good things, the picnic on the mountain, the moonlight walk, the talk of beaus with my friends, and I centered most on Momma. The lullaby she would sing me when I was little, the sweet as sugar voice she had, the smell of lilacs in her hair, the sound she made when she laughed that was more beautiful than a church quire, and her smile that could make even the coldest of hearts melt.