I wanted to sleep. I really did. I pulled the blanket over my head and squeezed my eyes shut, but the humming wouldn't stop. It was louder now, buzzy and thick, like bees under the floor. My ears felt stuffed, like when you dive too deep in the stream. The whole room felt tight, as if it had puffed up and couldn't let the air out.

My back was sweaty. My arms were cold. My teeth clicked, even with the fire going. It did not make sense.

“I’m just gonna look,” I whispered. “Just a little.”

I sat up. The window was open a crack. The curtain lifted and fell as if someone were breathing on it, but there wasn't any wind. Outside, the moons looked wrong again. Too close. Too bright. The blue leaned on the silver like they were squishing together. I used to think they were friends. Now I wasn't so sure.

I touched the glass. It tingled. Not warm, not cold. Just strange. The light did not look like night anymore. Gold and blue mixed together and spread over everything. My stomach flipped. It felt like the sky was looking straight at me. Looking in.

I needed air.

I crept to my bedroom door and cracked it to check on Mama. I think she fell asleep with Mira. I slid into the front room, eased open the outside door, and stepped into the yard.

Nothing moved. Not the grass. Not the trees. Even the chimney smoke just hung there, not curling or drifting. The ground felt soft, not like mud, more like something underneath had taken a deep breath and was holding it in.

I went past the fence.

Twelve steps.

Eighteen more to the road.

I wasn't trying to count. The numbers just showed up. They always did.

The humming grew with each step. It was not only in my ears anymore. It got into my fingers, my belly, my teeth. It did not hurt, but it felt too big for me.

I kept walking. I don't know why. I just did.

Four hundred sixty-three steps from the house. That's where I stopped. I was in the field by then, and everything glowed. The moons were so bright they turned the shadows white. The prairie shimmered. The grass was long and shiny and moved even without wind.

I waited. I didn’t know for what. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything.

The air changed first. It went thick and heavy, like trying to breathe underwater when you aren't wet. My breath came slow, the kind of slow that feels like it might not end.

Then the colors bent, blue into white, white into gold, until nothing else was left.

A crack sounded, like a frozen puddle under your heel. Then another, deeper, from under the dirt.

Lines of light rose out of the ground. Soft at first, then brighter. They ran fast through roots and around stones as if they knew the path. They crossed and crossed until the field was full of them, and the world looked awake.

The hum was not a sound anymore. It was everywhere, in my bones, in my chest, in the sky. Small bright specks lifted off the grass. Not bugs, but they looked a little like fireflies, only slower.

I looked up. The moons touched.

Everything stopped.

No sound. No frogs. No breath. Just light. It poured over me, into me, through me. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. It was awful. It was beautiful. It was both.

The light filled me and didn't spill. Cold and hot at once. My arms tingled. My legs went watery. My knees gave out and I fell, but I didn't feel the ground. The sky spun. The grass curled toward me. Everything swirled.

Then the numbers came. They were too fast and too big. They rushed through my head and wouldn't stop.

The moons pulled apart. The light faded. The sky went quiet. The world came back, only not the same. The grass trembled. The air felt thin. Colors looked tired, like the old shirt Mama won't let me wear to the square.

The glowing cracks in the dirt faded, slow, as if something were breathing out one last time.

I tried to stand. My legs wouldn't let me. My arms felt far away. The hum was gone, and in its place, a deep, slow thump. A heartbeat. Not mine.

Then the dark scooped me up.                                                                                              ***

Voices came from far away, then closer. “Asbeel!” Hands found me, warm and rough. One on my back, one on my shoulder.

“She’s breathing,” Ronan said. It was him. Even quiet, his voice has corners.

“She’s just cold.”

“No!" Mama snapped. “She’s burning up. Look at her face.”

I wanted to answer. I wanted to open my eyes. I could not. Everything felt floaty and wrong. My chest was full, filled with something I didn't ask for.

“What happened here?” Ronan said, not like how he usually talks. “The ground’s scorched. Like lightning hit.”

“It didn’t,” Eldric corrected. “No storm. Sky’s clear.”

Mama didn't answer. She pulled me in and wrapped both arms around me. Her heart banged against my back.

“She’s just tired,” she said, so soft I barely heard. “She’ll wake up soon.” The words were for her.

No one spoke after that. The field was quiet again. Too quiet. It felt like it was listening.

Under the dirt I still felt it, that slow deep thump. Not mine. Softening, slowing, going quiet.

Everything faded. Like falling asleep. Like sinking.

The last thing I felt was Mama’s hands holding me.