"No... no way."

Seiren's voice sounded hollow and faraway. Her whole body went numb. She slumped onto a chair; tiny prickles danced on her face and limbs.

"What...? No. You're joking."

I'm not, said Madeleine, weeping. The sounds echoed in Seiren's brain. She hadn't heard her sister cry in such a long time. All of this is because of me? But I don't want it, Seiren. I don't. All these people dying – it shouldn't be for me. It's not worth it. If it means I'm going to die, then let me die. I don't want you to continue doing stuff like this.

"It was my mistake back then. I'm fixing it, I told you! You'll get your body back!"

Rain began to fall, pattering against the window. The afternoon sun hid behind thick grey clouds. A chill crept through the small window opening.

I don't want it!

Fire exploded in Seiren's chest and mind. Her vision blurred. With a scream of rage, she ripped off her amulet. Madeleine's presence vanished. Seiren hurled the necklace at the pile of paper and with a soft thud, it landed and disappeared between the sheets. It was all she could do not to jump up and down on it.

She whirled around and dashed out, tears prickling at the edge of her eyes. Her heart thumped against her ribcage. Fury caused the flames to burn beneath her skin; each breath came heated through her gritted teeth. She kicked the doors open with a crash and ran, ignoring the shouts of the guard.

The scenes passed in a blur; she wasn't sure if that was from her speed or the tears spurting. Bicknor was too full of people. Too many would see and she'd rather die. She took the first left after bursting out of the front of the institute and then to the small streets, weaving into tiny alleyways as soon as she spotted anyone in her way. A small raised step caught the toe of her boot, almost sending her crashing to the floor. Her other foot tried to catch her but slipped. She reached out to catch herself; her elbow scraped against the wall and she cried out in pain, landing on both knees. She managed to push herself off before her face met the ground. Her elbow and knees throbbed. She winced and studied the wound on her elbow. It was raw, with bits of white flaked skin on the edges and fresh blood oozing through. Perhaps it was her rage and the adrenaline, but it was only tender and not actually painful. Her leggings were thankfully still intact.

Luckily nobody saw her loss of dignity. Rain plastered her hair to her forehead. She straightened up and went to draw the cloak's hood over her head. She stopped when her hand grasped thin air; she'd left her cloak, along with all the prepared runes, back at the Institute. She cursed and shook her head, spraying water everywhere. No way was she going back to that bloody place. She carried on running, the fire fuelling her aching muscles and raw airways.

The alleyway finally opened up to an old market square, its far edges ending in stone walls that overlooked the hills. A dried fountain sat in the middle. The place was empty. Rain continued to pour, coating everything with an ethereal gleam. The pitter-patter filled her ears, punctuated by her panting breaths. The chill dampened the fire in her chest, creeping steadily into her bones. The cold air irritated her raw throat.

Seiren lifted her head, closing her eyes. Icy rain jumped on her eyelids, coursing down the creases in her skin and running past her ears and down her neck. Her soaked hair weighed heavy on her shoulders. She opened her mouth and cried, her body trembling from head to toe. Hot tears mixed with cold rainwater. Fear and anger converged into a messy maelstrom, squeezing her heart until it felt about to burst within her hollow body. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

She opened her eyes, her eyelashes laden with water. Raindrops trickled past, making her blink. The statue above the non-functional water fountain was barely visible in the low light. The sun had long disappeared behind thick black clouds. Water leapt off with every contact with the ground or stone.

Seiren dragged heavy feet to the fountain and sat, her head bent. Her hair swung forward, soaked into clumps, releasing steady streams onto her lap. Her hands lay on her thighs, the fingers curled a little, the remains of the ink on the joints washed away. Her tunic and leggings clung to her flesh, icy to touch.

Her mind hadn't been empty in such a long time.

I want to die! Madeleine's voice, cracking at the crescendo, sounded distant. How could she say that? It was all Seiren's fault. She had taken too long. She shouldn't have quarrelled with Madeleine that night. She shouldn't have used her mother's spells that night. She shouldn't have waited six long years at King's to try and bring her sister back. She shouldn't have faffed so much with trialling her runes.

It was all her fault. She never thought about how Madeleine felt, relegated to nothing but a whisper in Seiren's head, speaking but nobody could hear her, feeling but nobody was aware of her. It should have been Seiren that night. Her bed was closest to the door. She was a light sleeper. She would have investigated the ruckus with Father. She would have been the one dead and Madeleine would have lived, and Mother would still be there.

Then at least Madeleine didn't need to live with that crushing guilt for six years, helpless to fix it, unable to escape when her sister's presence every second of every day was a stark reminder of her mistake, silently blaming her for everything she'd done. Madeleine wouldn't career down this dark path of gut-wrenching screams of her experiments and plummets of disappointment when the prisoners' pain had been for nothing. It wouldn't have to be Madeleine forcibly pushing herself on, tugging that tiny sliver of hope that the solution could be just around the corner, ignoring her own pang of guilt and her sister's contempt.

She wouldn't have to wish every single day it had been her dead, instead.

Seiren's limbs hung heavy. The raindrops dissolved to nothing but a hum in the background. The chill settled in, filling every nook and cranny, dropping her body temperature. Her heart slowed; her train of thoughts became a distant mumble.

It was nice, in a hypothermic, forsaken way.

The rain grew heavier; each drop was fat and exploded on her shoulders and head. Seiren was chilled to the bone and soaked to the skin. She was sure if she hit the ground, at least a litre of water would squeeze out of her.

The sound of footsteps caught her attention. She lifted her head slowly, heavy eyelids pulling back.

A cloaked figure, the material soaked in rain, appeared at the alleyway where Seiren had run out. It was hard to make out any more features but it must be a woman, for she was shorter than Seiren and stockier. Her face was shrouded in the hood's shadow, impossible to identify. She remained silent, watching Seiren. Seiren gave her a glance before staring blankly ahead again, not taking in the wet woods over the stone wall far below.

"Seiren Nithercott." The woman's voice was croaky. She approached Seiren, who ignored her. "I have a proposal."

Seiren's blank mind took in nothing.

"What are your thoughts on overthrowing King Pollin?"

She ignored her.

The woman repeated her question. Seiren's brain clicked at glacial pace before she turned to look at the newcomer again. The woman's hood still shrouded her features.

Seiren snorted. "Sod off."

The woman lifted her head. Blue eyes glared down at her. She turned and stalked away. Seiren reverted back to her state of emptiness.

A whoosh came from her left. Seiren barely flinched. A throwing knife embedded into the crack between stone slabs. A paper rune clung to its handle. There was a clap. The rune glowed orange.

There was a flash of light and smoke shot into her nose. An explosion sent Seiren tumbling backwards into the half-filled fountain. Her head smacked on the stone basin behind, sending a burst of stars across her vision. Seiren shouted; the noise came out as bubbles. She inhaled water. Panicked hands scrabbled behind her and pushed her to the surface. She burst out, water streaming, coughing and wheezing.

"What the hell?" she said, rubbing the bump that was growing at the back of her head. Two more knives thudded down on the ledge in front of her. Before she could see the runes, they'd already burst into red and orange lights and exploded in front of her. Smoke filled her eyes, blinding her.

She scrambled out of the fountain. Soaking wet boots hit the ground with a squelch. She leapt backwards, almost skidding and losing her balance. A string of throwing knives tied with runes and claps of magic initiation followed. The heat made Seiren's cheeks sting and dried the front of her tunic. She skipped backwards, keeping a distance from her attacker. Her mind was whirling, barely coherent. Innate fight-or-flight reflexes kicked in.

Her hands leapt to her pocket and she kicked herself for leaving her cloak behind. No chalk. No paper. No runes.

Maybe this was her reckoning. She'd done enough harm. Maybe it was time for her to pay for her crimes.

But when the woman stalked towards her, throwing knives glinting behind her cloak, Seiren's resolve withered. Her knees quaked and her mouth dried. She didn't want to die. Was it cowardice? Selfishness?

The knife flew towards her, aimed straight for her face. A red rune turned into a streak of scarlet.

Almost out of instinct, her mind emptied and she slammed her palms together. Magic exploded from her hands and a gust of wind blew the knife off-course. It skimmed by her cheek, drawing blood. She flinched. It exploded about a metre behind her and forced her to stumble forward.

The woman gave a subtle jerk of her wrist beneath the cloak. Seiren barely dodged another knife. She threw out magic with another clap. A flicker of flames leapt from her and sizzled into nothingness in the rain. She gasped. Idiotic move.

The assassin leapt forward, too quick for Seiren to follow, her feet gliding over the wet ground. Seiren cleared her head and clapped again, but before the magic could leave her hands, a soft thud reached her ears. Agony exploded from her abdomen.

Seiren gasped and then gurgled. Time stilled.

Something warm and thick seeped through her tunic. Seiren looked up, meeting steel-blue eyes. Her words died on her lips. Trembling hands clutched uselessly at the attacker's cloak. The world began to fade. The patter of rain dissolved away.

The woman let go. Seiren fell, landing flat on her back. She coughed; a spurt of blood came from her lips. Her hands slid to the short throwing knife embedded in her abdomen, too weak to pluck it out. The attacker stepped forward, no mercy in those icy eyes. She drew another knife out and raised it. Seiren closed her eyes, terrified despite her pride to meet the end head-on.

There was a flurry of movement from not too far away. The woman exclaimed under her breath and skipped back.

"You!" she snarled. Her swift footwork moving away from Seiren was all she could hear for several seconds before she became aware of another person's presence. Her breathing came in shallow, painful gasps. Her head swam. She eased one eye open.

The newcomer stood just out of the edge of her vision. From the way the assassin stood, poised and stiff, it could only be good news for Seiren.

There was a crackle of electricity. The sky lit briefly, throwing every bump on the short stone wall into sharp relief. Seiren craned her neck, pressing one hand on the pulsing wound on her stomach. The assassin leapt in, exchanging blows with the newcomer. Every hit was punctuated by a breath. Their movements were so quick Seiren couldn't keep up. Or perhaps it was the blood loss that made everything increasingly blurred until all she could see was the grey clouds of the rainy sky through tunnel vision.

All the strength left flowed away with the rain. At least it was a peaceful way to die.

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