With his face buried against Zevran's chest, he haltingly admitted, voice heavy with tears, "I'm afraid it's still the Fade. I'm afraid I'll open my eyes and it's going to be Nightmare and... and he'll have both of us." Because Zevran had bled.

Fade illusions didn't bleed. Demons didn't think far enough along to add blood. Not spontaneously, and Zevran bled.

But how would Zevran have gotten into the Fade anyway? He hadn't been at Adamant. He hadn't fallen as the wall crumbled.

Maker, he ached now, from the soul out. Everything he'd not been able to feel for a decade or more was breaking free because of a friend's gesture of kindness. Now he was crumbling like that wall.