I venture into the kitchen, and I get ambushed by dad immediately. He hugs me hard, and I almost want to crumple into traumatized tears, so I don't have to think about any of this, or the other growing issues pressing on my mind.

But I don't. I just lean against him, and let him hug me. It takes the weight off my mind for just a second. Just a second, before a mug of peppermint tea is pressed into my hands. I take my glasses off so they don't steam up.

Something lands on my head, and as I look up, I realize dad is crying. He looks at me, and the confusion on my face. His face falls, and it looks like he might fall apart right there. It scares me, how vulnerable dad looks there, like paper in a storm.

"You don't know?" He holds my face in his hands, running his fingers down my cheeks. He looks even more distraught now.

"What?" I ask.

"Mummy is gone. So are the ravens. There was a murmuration over the Scythe, where you were, and then they just flew off." He says.

"Flew off?"

"They're gone."

"Everywhere?"

"Everywhere. We don't know where, and the Postmaster hasn't issued a statement. " My stomach drops as he says that, and I feel sick, I want to collapse, or scream.

"They've stopped school until we figure out what has happened." From the tones in his voice, I can tell he's hesitant, and isn't telling me everything.

"What do you mean? Layla would have told me if we weren't going." I say, and dad flinches.

"Just for you." Someone's voice comes from another part of the house, and I freeze up.

Three policemen appear, wearing hi-vis vests in yellow and orange, over their black uniforms. What are they doing here? Do they think I caused this? My need to obey the rules pulses furiously in my chest, and I feel scared, like I'm on the edge of a cliff, tipping forward with no way to save myself. I lean sideways, and crash into a chair, almost hyperventilating.

"Who are they?" I grip dad's hand tight, fighting back the urge to cry or run. Or both. I put the tea on the side.

"This is officer Davis, Hana. From the special division." Dad rubs my back, but all I want is to make these people leave, because I know the special division is connected to death, and the postman, and the ravens, and they should not be here, if today could only be normal.

"Yes, and these are officers Clarke and Wilson. I'm sorry to intrude, Hana, you're not in trouble, don't worry." Officer Davis says gently, as officers Clarke, a tall woman with light-olive skin, and long, curly black hair, and Wilson, a young man with a beard and brown hair stand, looking for a place to put the mugs of tea dad probably gave them the minute they stepped through the door.

Officer Davis is tall, and well built but not intimidating. He has a very pleasant face, like he's been doing meditation and breathing exercises, and he has a rich, deep voice,  the kind I'd imagine a forest to speak with. It makes me feel calmer, but still on edge. His skin is shiny, and dark, almost ebony, but near the left corner of his forehead are lighter, almost white patches, that ripple down his neck and disappear under his shirt, in patches of discoloration. His aura is a deep blue right now, ripples stretching out to where they fade, like a slightly disturbed pool.

"Hana, as you know, your mother is missing currently. We know because her copies have disappeared, according to reports from other parts of the world, and as result, people have stopped dying." Officer Davis pulls out a large, clear picture of a street somewhere.

There is a crowded street, and some motorbikes are crumpled up against each other like tin cans in a crusher, pushed aside by some careless driver's luxury car. But the people aren't focusing on the vehicles, they're focusing on two people who are half-standing on the road, because one is lying on a stretcher, surrounded by a dangerous amount of blood, and the other is blurred, along with something that could be a limb, blurred as well.

I know I should be desensitized to things like this by now, but with the day I've had, I can't look at it. It looks wrong that that much blood should be around one person. I know a little blood goes a long way, but it's just unbelievable, even through the blurring.

"How are they alive?" I want to be sick, and this kitchen suddenly feels far too small for the words that come next.

"Because death is not in this world anymore to take them." The realization plummets down me in a shiver, like someone dropped a stone into a shallow, and turned it into a tsunami.

"Why are you then? Shouldn't you be finding mum?" I croak, peeling my sandpapery tongue away from the roof of my mouth, as Officer Davis puts the picture away.

"Well, the world has never been without a death before, so the world is waiting for an answer from us. We wanted to ask if anything has happened. Anything that could name you as the next death?" Officer Davis asks slowly.

I want to scream under the weight of those words. It's not okay in the slightest. I'm still a kid! I'm FOURTEEN for death's sake! I can't become death! I can't be expected to do any of this yet. The youngest death was only fifteen, and that was in the medieval era!

"No. No. NO! I AM NOT DEATH!" I'm screaming my thoughts out loud before I know it.

"It's okay. We are not going to force anything on you. We will not make you become death." Officer Davis says. I try to calm down, but it's only putting a lid on a storm. "But, the world will not let itself be unbalanced for long, so we were wondering if there was a way to sense a temporary death."

"That's not possible! FIND MUM! THAT FIXES EVERYTHING!" I feel beyond words. "HOW CAN YOU TRY TO FIND A SOLUTION AND IGNORE FINDING THE MOST IMPORTANT PERSON IN THE WORLD! HOW CAN YOU TRY TO FIND A SOLUTION FOR SOMETHING YOU COULD SAVE IF YOU JUST! TRIED!" I'm panting, shaking, and I feel dizzy.

"Hana, darling, we're trying, I promise, I promise. We're all looking for your mother. We all need her." He hugs me, and I pull away.

"Trying isn't enough when the world is at stake. Succeed." I snarl, tears poring down my face, uninhibited, free, and angry.

"Hana, you are the most important person in the world now. We need to keep you safe, in case something happens to you too. We will all keep you safe, but things have to change, to make sure of that." Dad says.

I feel a horrible pressure in my head, under my skin, pulsing in my temples, hot and angry, and wild and dangerous. A part of me that's a part of death, a part of me that is a force of nature. It builds, and I want to be sick. My skull is splitting, my eyes are bulging, I'm choking, but nothing happens.

"The special forces will need to monitor you now, to keep you safe, which means we will need to move." Dad says.

My heartbeat is wild, like a horse's hooves thudding against sand, un-containable. Everyone is saying life-ruining words, world-altering statements, trapping, cloying promises of observation of everything I'm the most ashamed of, my privacy ebbing away. Like it doesn't matter, like it's meaningless words that can be thrown around. Like I'm suddenly seen differently than twenty minutes ago.

It's not fair. It's not right. I can't become death yet. I'm still a kid. I can't be guarded like I have the solutions to these problems. I'm not a magical-fix-all. I need mum. The world needs mum. Everyone needs mum. Most of all me. Why aren't they finding her? Why are three people who could be the ones to find her here?! Why are they bothering with me?!

Questions race through me, mixing into a poisonous cocktail of stress, adrenaline, anger, despair and fear. I'm dying, I'm sure of it. The light feels like needles in my eyes, the mug of peppermint tea's steam like a funeral pyre, but I'm still wretchedly standing here, like an idiot.

I can't. I can't stay here. I have to go.

Everything feels loud and scary, and I feel small and far away, so I grab my phone, and spring for the door. I'm going to run. I scream some nonsense behind me slamming doors to buy myself time. I can't be near anyone now. I need to be alone.

Loud voices of alarm, and hands reaching for me. I drop the phone, and it bounces against my foot, a harsh sound. I bolt for it, the surges of feelings wrapping themselves around me like shots of lightning, burning through my nerves, sharpening my mind, shuddering pure, concentrated energy into every cell of my body.

My lungs burn, and I feel stupid as the pavement flies away beneath me, as I'm past the gate, and racing up the street. People are watching, their gazes sharp as whispers flick brutally around me like whips.

I run faster, until I feel like a slanted line fading away as the pavement disappears into a gravel park path, and then churned up mud I fly through like a gazelle. I can hear Officer Davis and the others behind me, and it whispers within me like fire.

He's fast, too fast. He hasn't slowed. I'm not going to outrun him. He's a special officer, Hana, of course you can't run away. It presses on my mind like a brand, and I'm almost flying now, faster than I ever have before.

I hit the border of the woodland, pushing faster, until every fiber of me aches, and pushes forward with electric pulses of pure fear that sting into my mind like scorched copper wire and burnt hair. Roots seem to disappear, and I realize my skin is glowing pink, burning like a torch, twisting up streams of petals and forcing roots away, flicking them back up behind me. This is the most I've ever done with my powers. Too much. It;s out of my control, draining away like a leaking oil tanker.

Almost immediately, I feel like I'm running through lead, as my power sucks at the adrenaline facade fast, and my head feels like it is going to split even more, like a hammer is pounding on it, or molten metal is searing through my skull.

I'm going to fall soon. I'm going to fall, I'm going to trip and something horrible is going to happen. I need to think of something, as the edges of my vision pulse like the blood is expanding too fast for my veins, like my head is swelling.

My exhausted mind is failing like a shooting star burning up in the atmosphere, so I crumple to my knees, and I realize I'm alone, in a whispering grove of trees, knotted together tightly, like ruined knitting, in a nest of branches.

"Help.." I gasp, as a whirl of leaves stirs from the leaves in brown curls of papery decay, circling me. I'm not sure if it's a hallucination, or something, my thoughts drop away, and my leeching power fails me, as I pass out, the branches seeming to reach down for me, tree-like fingers reaching for my very consciousness.