His plea barely reaches her, and she's sure it doesn't make sense anyway, though she doesn't exactly have the wherewithal to analyze it right now. She stares at him uncomprehendingly, scared and defensive, while the figures slaughter each other and their dying cries rend the air. Horror and death and panic, it's all more memory than illusion now and it's slipping out of her control; she remembers how she'd felt when she saw this and is powerless to stop herself making the same associations again.

She raises her eyes at the winged creatures in fear, watches as they bleed red light that taints the sky a burnt orange, then dissolve into smoke and collapsed buildings wrecked by explosions. They're on a battlefield now, immersed in sirens and the screams of the dying, surrounded by laser fire and people trying to escape the relentlessly advancing Daleks. The TARDIS stares at the scene in shock, standing very still among the chaotic destruction like a pillar, or a box.

"Gallifrey..." she breathes in dismay as a temporal explosion alights the sky, barely visible to a human eye, but nobody is human here, everyone can feel the noxious gaping wound it leaves in the fabric of reality. Heavy dread envelops the TARDIS because she knows what this is; it's the last day, the day everything ends, and she's frozen in a very old, very deep kind of terror, one she was never prepared to feel again.