Miroslav ripped off his mask, throwing it to the side.

"Dammit!" He shouted.

Then he threw his fist straight into the wall.

"DAMMIT!" He roared louder, tears sliding to the ground.

He'd rushed to get Quinn, but the moment he touched her, she'd gone limp.

Miroslav had scooped her up and thrown himself down the stairs, three at a time, stumbling at the bottom.

But when he'd gotten down, shouting for help in the crowded room, nobody moved.

He'd felt a frustrated helplessness that crowded into his mind.

"Someone do something!" He'd yelled.

People stared.

All of them dressed up, glittering and hidden in their masks.

Frozen.

Miro couldn't take it.

He snapped, falling to his knees still holding her.

"HELP HER!" He roared.

Ice exploded outward.

He hadn't even lifted his hands.

It fanned out, flames dancing atop it and rushing out with a vengeance.

People screamed.

They backed away, finally moving, doing SOMETHING.

Maude hobbled over from across the room where she'd been sitting.

And Mad Maude looked crazier than ever when she'd laid a hand on his shoulder.

The flames melted the ice into puddles, which then extinguished the remaining fire with a soft hiss.

And Miro had knelt quiet.

As Maude barked orders.

And when she murmured instructions to him, he'd gone.

He'd moved her to another room, while people, healers, Gifted Ones, and houseworkers had bustled through.

They'd inspected her.

They'd examined her.

And they'd tried to calm her violent body when she began to seize and vomit.

Black had seeped from her mouth, oozing onto the bed she was on.

Now here he was.

People were shouting.

The were bringing water.

They were getting a cloth.

Miroslav was watching in agony.

His mind locked in past and present.

Maude pushed him out gently, her mouth moving, but he didn't hear anything.

He stumbled downstairs.

There was a high pitched noise.

Like a whistle.

Or maybe that was the echo of her screaming.

Just like before.

And where was he?

He was downstairs, other people running around.

And he slammed his hand into the wall, making another hole.

He could hear sound.

It was filtering through.

Garbled underwater noises started to clear.

Shouting.

Confusion.

Concern.

Miroslav turned around and leaned against the wall, his hands running through his hair.

He let his head loll to the side, cheek resting on the undamaged part of the wall.

There was Nol.

He was standing there, lanky body tense, oversized hands clenched.

His brown eyes clouded with pain and confusion.

Miroslav knew that his own face was raw and wild.

The mask lay crumpled on the ground.

He knew that he was a sight, panting, knuckles bloody from where he'd beat at the wall.

But Nol stepped closer.

Brave.

Brave kid.

"Is she going to be okay?" He rasped in that accent.

"Dammit." Miroslav whispered, his hands rubbing at his eyes.

Nol moved a little closer.

Miro reached out his arms and pulled the kid close, hugging him.

He could feel Nol crying on his shirt.

But he didn't say anything, because he was crying too, the tears sliding out and dripping onto the ground.

And then he spoke.

He spoke the truth.

"I don't know. I'm sorry." Miroslav whispered, voice breaking.

Nol hugged him back.

"It's okay. She'll forgive you too." He said, voice steady and sincere.

Miroslav tensed.

Memories assaulted him.

They fell on him, dragging him, choking him.

But they weren't of his brother.

And he knew that even if she forgave him, hearing her screams, he wouldn't ever forgive himself.

And vengeance burned through him.

It pierced the chaos.

No matter what happened next, he would finish it.

There was a sound from upstairs, like a wail.

Both of them looked up.

But then it was oddly quiet.