Where am I?

She tried to move. Tried to force her eyelids to flutter open so that she could finally look into the beautiful, rich brown irises of Atlanta al Thea once more. Did her very best to break the boundaries of whatever was holding the girl back from reality, whatever was keeping her locked inside a small pristine white tile room. Aria's vision flickered with every breath that she took, causing a multitude of diverse colors to shimmer before her eyes. Every heartbeat sounded like a cannon being fired in her eardrums, for every nerve in Aria's body was painstakingly clear – so clear she could sense the electricity that crackled and popped in the air.

Where am I?

The problem was – Aria didn't know. She didn't know anything. Couldn't hear anything except the beating of her heart in her ears, couldn't see anything but the gleaming silvery grey tiles that made up the area of the mystery chamber that she was trapped in. Every step felt like she was walking through fire, every effort to speak was in vain for her voice choked and froze halfway up her throat.

I don't know where I am.

It wasn't a question, wasn't debatable, but a single, terrifying, undeniable fact. She didn't know where she was. Her memories were fuzzy, jumbled – and she had no recollection of the previous day or how she got into this prison cell. The only thing – or person, more specifically – that Aria knew for sure, was the graceful, alluring, brave Atlanta al Thea. The hydromancer's smile was seared into her brain. The way that their lips had molded against one another's was the only thing that kept Aria from having a complete mental breakdown.

But even the thought of Atlanta and Aria's brief kiss in the woods did not answer the girl's questions of where she was, and how she got there. Whenever one of her slender fingers brushed against the cool silver tiles, the walls seemed to pulse with a life force of its own, trembling and rippling like a stream of rushing water. It was almost like it had a heartbeat, and as Aria leaned on the morphing walls and slid down until she was sitting, she could feel everything. She could hear her lungs bubbling, a giddiness there in her stomach, with icy air filling her lungs.

She heard a voice calling her from somewhere far away. It was Atlanta's. Aria could hear her lover's voice, but Atlanta's voice was too faint, too indistinct, and Aria could not make out her words. She imagined Atlanta looking for her, relentlessly trying to find her and break her out of her cell. She imagined falling from her heaven, from the gazebo she had dreamed herself to be in, back down to earth into this tiny little room with its immaculate tile floors and walls that smelled heavily of lemon-scented detergent.

Where am I? Aria wondered for the umpteenth time, though now her heartbeat had calmed slightly and her thoughts were more precise. Is this another part of my heaven? Is this earth? Or is it hell? Thinking of the supernatural made her head ache, so she stopped to save herself unnecessary pain. She sighed, long and loud, her breath visible in the frigid atmosphere. She wanted out – she wanted out of this place with all her heart but she could not leave. Every second that ticked by was a question mark as Aria waited, though for what exactly, she did not know. Most likely for something, anything, to happen.

And something did.

As Aria sat, leaning on the walls with her eyes staring at the naked bulb hanging on the ceiling, she felt it. A tingling along her spine, a tingling that grew to a prickle. Then once again, she heard her name being called – "Aria." This time, however, Atlanta's voice seemed clearer, sharper, that cut through the air like a knife to open a portal to somewhere safe. "Aria," Atlanta's voice came again, and Aria could feel the girl's breath hot on her ear, could feel Atlanta's fingers running through the mass of her red hair. "I love you."

With those three words came life. With those three words Aria found herself helplessly falling towards the ground, her balance lost. However, the girl made no physical contact with the tile floor – for as her skin first brushed against the smooth, cold tiles, the ground seemed to ripple and pull away, like a curtain just before or after a show. She heard Atlanta whispering to her, and it was then Aria felt reality just beyond her fingertips. "Aria? Aria, oh god, you're waking up!"

And then she was in her body again, and she was looking up. She could feel the arch of her back against the grainy sand, the scrapes inside her clothes where flesh had somehow been torn away, and she could smell the salt in the breezy sea air. Aria blinked – once, twice – as the colors flashing before her eyes disappeared to be replaced by the vaguest outline of a girl's face. A girl's face whom Aria known very well.

"Aria," came Atlanta's voice once more. "Can you hear me, Aria?"

Atlanta's gorgeous dark brown irises, filled to the brim with worry and love, made Aria's heart leap and pound and thud with a joyful type of urgency in her chest. She opened her mouth to speak, but her lips were dry and cracked. Atlanta gingerly took ahold of her wrist and placed two fingers on the inside, to check Aria's pulse. At Aria's searching gaze, Atlanta smiled the tiniest of smiles and murmured, "They said you were in a coma."

Aria nodded. She didn't know why. She found it odd in a slight sense that she was not more scared, not more confused or freaked out. A breath of relief escaped her lips and Aria struggled to sit up, helped uncertainly by Atlanta. She could in the hydromancer's eyes that Atlanta was concerned by her health and safety, and so when Aria was finally in a sitting position, with her head swimming with hazy memories and her heart nearly bursting with an emotion she could not quite pinpoint, the zoomancer blurted out, "Kiss me."

"What?"

"Don't you want to? Kiss me?" Aria reached up her trembling hands to her face, fingers feeling the rough smoothness of Atlanta's skin, tracing over every mole and blemish. The waves lapped against the shore, and in the distance, Aria could see the faint flickering flames of a campfire. Indistinct shapes sat around the campfire, ones that Aria recognized as the four Guardians, and just a little further off she saw the remaining magi sleeping, curled on the sand.

"What happened to you?" Atlanta asked, bewildered. Her eyes searched Aria's, curious and perhaps slightly afraid, but Aria only smiled. She slowly leaned forward and kissed Atlanta lightly, on the lips. The moment slowed down, and Aria drank it in, savoring the way their heart thumped together the sound of their kiss – the small smack of suction as our lips pulled away. It reverberated, this sound, down the long tunnel of loneliness that Aria had felt all her life. The rejection of the other children her age, the solitary days she spent cooped up in her room – it all seemed to wash away like sand on the seashore whenever Aria felt Atlanta's touch.

She broke away, just briefly, to answer Atlanta's question with one of her own, "What do you think?" They were both trembling now, caught in the heat of the moment as Aria gently trailed her fingers up Atlanta's back, fingering each button sewed onto the back of her scraggly dress, feeling the way Atlanta's skin rose with goosebumps at the contact of Aria's fingers. Their breaths were hot, washing away the coldness of the room in which Aria was trapped in before, filling her with a burning fire that spread in waves throughout her body.

"You've changed," Atlanta's voice was whispery, almost like a fairy's. "You've changed, but I don't know why." She stared at Aria, entangled in each other's arms, mystified.

A chuckle, light and soft, tumbled out of Aria's lips as their lips touched again, tender. They were so close that Aria could see that flecks of hazel in the umber brown of Atlanta's eyes. "Do you want to know?" she asked, the tone of her voice a unique blend of lust, love and trust. She buried her head in the crook of Atlanta's neck, feeling the brush of her stringy hair on her skin, and left a trail of kisses up her neck.

A shaky breath, one that Aria sensed as one of doubt and uncertainty, left Atlanta's lips as her body quivered. Yet, the older girl did not pull away, but whispered, "Aria?"

Something in the tone of Atlanta's voice made Aria feel cold and numb with gnawing fear inside. The familiar terror of rejection, of unwant, threatened to make Aria's heart stop beating altogether. She broke away, leaning back so that the two of them were staring at each other in the eye. "Yes?" She whispered in anticipation.

Hours passed. Or perhaps it was mere minutes, or seconds, Aria could not tell. She only heard the rustling of the ocean breeze in her hair, lost in the depths of Atlanta's eyes, finding a source of comfort there, of belonging. Then, Atlanta smiled, leaning forward so that their noses brushed. She touched Aria's shoulders, cautiously at first, then gaining confidence as she wrapped her willowy legs around Aria's waist, pushing her back down into the sand. They kissed, harder and with more passion than ever before, not daring to break away like if they did, their world would crumble and fall apart at their feet.

"I love you," Atlanta breathed, when they finally broke apart.

Aria did not have to answer. The reply was obvious. She simply leaned forward and traced the edge of Atlanta's face with her fingers, closing her eyes as she heard Atlanta fumbling to unbutton her dress, heard the roar of the wind and the waves on the shore combined.

They were drowning – in the helplessness of being alive, of the dark bright power of love that rendered even the strongest man incapable, in the pounding rhythm of her heart that seemed to overflow with yearning and desire. And on the other side of the sea, just peaking over the horizon, Aria thought that she could see the rising sun of a new life.