She woke up gasping.

She was panting.

It was dark.

She felt frantic.

Afraid.

Why was she afraid?

Her hands were shaking.

She didn't see it, she felt it.

Feeling.

Quinn reached out her mind.

She didn't feel anything.

Couldn't feel anything.

Something was wrong. Why didn't she feel? Where was the overwhelming emotion?

And then a wave of tired worry hit her.

Feeling.

Why did that make her more afraid?

The door opened.

She heard the creak and then the click as it closed.

There was a click on marbled floor. No, not click. More like...soft thumps of leather.

Footsteps.

The feeling.

Something lingered in her mind, sick and ugly.

"What....what day is it?" Quinn rasped.

There was a gasp and scrambling sounds before her eyes felt burned by a sudden flash of light.

She threw her face into her hands.

"Ah!" Quinn hissed.

"Sorry. Sorry. You're awake. You're- alive."

Quinn moved her hands away, squinting her eyes at the bright lit lanterns.

"I think I am. Unless, you're dead too."

"Hush your jinxing. Nothing but age will kill these bones." Maude scowled.

The room was large. Actually, huge. It felt big and empty.

There were huge windows. Almost floor to ceiling.

A very high up ceiling.

Quinn turned her attention to Maude, who had fumbled closer.

Maude's hand gripped Quinn's, and she could've sworn the woman's eyes filled for a moment.

But then it was gone, a weary, stern expression replacing it.

"How do you feel?" Maude asked.

"So, not heaven?" Quinn joked quietly.

Maude didn't laugh.

"How about you answer my question first?" She croaked out. "How long have I been asleep?"

Maude's grip tightened.

She lowered herself onto the edge of the bed.

"How long do you think you've been asleep?"

Quinn pushed her mind back.

"The Party. I went to get Miro. Something went wrong. Feeling. Something. I'm not sure...."

Her mind pulsed painfully.

She pushed harder.

There was the study.

There was that sick douchebag.

And silver eyes.

No.

Her mind splintered and she groaned.

"It's been weeks, child. You never woke. For weeks. We'd almost assumed you were lost." Maude informed her, but her voice crackled.

"Wow. Where's Miro? Is he...alive?" Quinn asked hesitantly.

She tried to push her body up.

Maude's crinkled hand pressed her back down.

"He's alive. He's spent...lordy. More than two months taking his place on the throne, trying to keep the kingdom running. Running better. And he only recently....well, he....isn't here right at this moment. He is away. On...business."

"Business." Quinn parroted.

He was alive.

"What happened? Wait, who's in charge while he's gone? Why is he go- *augh* one?" Quinn began to cough, her body trembling violently as she hacked.

Maude released her and brought her a glass of water.

Quinn sipped it greedily.

"Passix has...disappeared. You were ill, and according to Passix, he was running things, not the Sorgina, so the country was in a delay until Miro stepped up to the plate, but...he's been....unsettled lately. He hasn't slept much in the last two months, to be honest with you. He became a little obsessed, and when he left, I was hoping he would at least make peace with himself. But now he's been gone for a week. Without word. I will run things, but technically, should you ever wake up, he's listed you as royalty. So, now that you're awake and he's gone, that could get....complex."

"Is there a way to write to him?" Quinn croaked.

Maude nodded slowly.

A pulse of emotion flipped into Quinn. Maude was concerned. Calm.

"Daft boy just doesn't respond. Perhaps a letter from you will bring him back a little."

"A little?"

Maude's eyes tightened, her face going somber.

The concern. It pulsed and flared for a moment, with a sad desperation.

"He was wrong after the incident. Withdrawn. He doesn't speak much in the first place, but I'll be damned if he's said anything happy or nice since, and never more than a couple sentences. Usually laced with commands and harsh direction. The leadership is there, but the humanity..."

The lantern on the wall flicked, shadows dancing over the ceiling.

Quinn could feel it.

"Is he...um...is he okay?" She whispered.

"I don't believe he is. But he can't afford to not be, especially to this extent."

Maude sighed and pulled herself away from the bed, hobbling toward the lanterns.

She flicked out one.

Then moved to the other.

Her shoes slapped against the marble.

"Rest, and then we'll write him tomorrow and be able to tell him honestly that you're more recovered." Maude directed.

The room fell into darkness.

Maude slipped out, the door clicking shut.

Quinn closed her eyes.

And the darkness attacked.

It ripped through her.

Feeling.

It was too much.

She couldn't turn it off.

It felt acidic, poisonous.

Was she acidic?

Poisonous?

If it was in her, then what?

Feeling.

Quinn flipped her eyes open, her raspy breath panting out.

The room wasn't completely dark.

Not with her eyes opened.

The huge windows were casting a dim glow.

Quinn rolled, and fell, crashing to the hard floor, the blankets twisted around her.

She struggled out of them and crawled away, her arms shaking, her legs trembling.

And then she was just dragging herself by her arms, sweating.

Panting.

Heaving air through rasped lungs.

She collapsed at the edge of the room, inhaling loudly and then coughing, sputtering at the sudden tense racking hacks.

Quinn's body went limp, flat on her stomach on the floor, her eyes looking outside.

At the millions of stars.

At a city that was built into the sloping side of the mountain, little lights trailing all the way to the bottom, exploding outward into a valley of light where people were awake.

Was it the late nighters who stayed up?

Was it early morning? Were people dragging themselves up to run businesses?

And her eyes dragged past that, ok outward on lights sprinkled farther out.

Villages.

Smaller cities.

And a horizon leading God knew where.

Quinn breathed in and hauled her body over to the wall, leaning against it, still looking outside, but tucked into the corner where the glass met wallpaper.

She leaned her head on the mirrored surface.

She could see her ragged face, drawn and too pale, even for a pasty girl.

Her black hair was damp with sweat, the ebony strands hanging in strings that fell around her, framing what haunted her.

Her eyes.

They blazed.

The purple was so bright it might as well have been a glowstick.

They were alive.

Pulsing.

Power raged within her mind, and the dark within them only raged when they closed, trapping it inside her.

She sighed and listlessly stared at warm light.

The twinkling ones scattered on the glacial horizon.

And those lights began to blend as the edge of the world glowed and burned, glittering ice pushing the sun into the sky.

And Quinn didn't close her eyes.

Not for longer than a moment.

Because she could endure a moment if the light was waiting, but she couldn't stand to keep herself safe for longer than that when she was alone.

She felt tiredness tug on her, but like the Magik, she fought.

She was staying awake.

She was staying Good.