Seiren dragged herself out of what felt like an eternity of heavy darkness. Her mind weighed like lead, barely a coherent thought, and she gasped for air as if she'd forgotten to breathe.

There were so many visions -- dreams? But they weren't the usual kind. There was nothing horrific or monstrous, just endless faces calling out to her. Most of them she'd never met, but she saw Loren there, too, amongst the crowd.

Behind her, Rowan and Madeleine called.

Seiren didn't know what to do, but so many images flashed before her eyes: people's birthdays, interactions, happy days, sad days -- it was all so overwhelming. It went on for what felt like an eternity, until it all fell silent and she was doused in darkness again. Then, a soft hand took hers and led her away from the suffocation.

The hand was still on hers.

Seiren blinked. The room came into focus at snail pace. Windows sat high on the wall on her right, with their curtains drawn but the hint of dawn -- or dusk? -- peeking through the material. On the left, the room was bathed in semi-darkness. A hunched-over shape leant on the edge of her bed, his or her hand covering hers. A long-extinguished candle sat behind that shape. The rest stretched into darkness.

She shifted a little and bit back a groan. Her whole body ached as if she'd run miles without a rest. A crackle of paper folding caught her attention and she fished it from beneath the covers. It was attached to her shoulder. The remains of a green rune smoldered away. Someone was healing her.

"Loren?" she said, her voice dry as the desert. She tried to clear it but it felt like knives scraping over her flesh.

"Loren..." whispered the shape. Rowan. Seiren's breath hitched in her throat and she made to snatch her hand back, but his fingers closed over hers. It was the same soft hand that had led her away from the calling crowd in her dreams. He sniffled. Seiren froze.

"What..." What the hell are you doing was what she wanted to say, but the air was heavy, and she'd never seen Rowan's shoulders hunched like that. "What's going on?"

She wanted to light a yellow rune, but she was only in a heavy nightdress -- did Rowan undress her?! She didn't want to ask. -- and she had none of her stuff on her person. Out of instinct, her free hand flew to her chest and it tightened when she realised Madeleine wasn't there. She found her sitting on the bedside table and bit back the instinct to put her on right away.

Seiren edged up the bed so she at least wasn't flat on her back. Rowan still had her hand in a steely grip and he was shaking. A crushing unease sat over Seiren's abdomen, making breathing difficult, but she didn't know what to say to Rowan, whose shoulders trembled and breathing was rapid. She almost wished he would scream and shout. Anger, she could deal with. Whatever this was, she wanted no part of it.

She did what her mother would have done back when she would wake in the middle of the night from a bad dream or when she and Madeleine got into a fight. With some hesitation, she reached forward with her other hand and rubbed the back of his. The grip relaxed a little, allowing blood flow to her fingers again.

Rowan lifted his head. She couldn't see his features in the dark, only the outline of his head and his black hair, normally so neat on his head, sticking up at odd angles.

"Message from Benover..." Rowan's voice was thick. "Loren's dead."

All the air left Seiren's lungs. She sat up and her head spun. Rowan might as well have pushed her in the path of a racing train. Loren -- dead? Impossible. She wasn't dying when Seiren found her. She was in hospital. In good hands. She was healing. She would have died earlier if she was that gravely injured, but she'd hung on for--

"How long?" she whispered. "How long was I... sleeping?"

"Three days." Rowan's voice was barely above a croak. "She... the message came this morning."

She'd expected tears, but none came. The nausea held her throat, threatening to squeeze. She never got to say goodbye. She thought Loren was in good hands, that she'd come bouncing in, thick blonde hair flying, white teeth gleaming, grey eyes shining with positivity. She promised to drop by Loren's next time Seiren was in Bicknor again. She needed to practise more chaos magic with Loren. Loren promised to teach her.

"Why?" Seiren tried to clear a throat that was barely open. "Why? How?"

Rowan didn't say a word. His head was bowed over the edge of her bed again, his hand squeezing the life out of hers. Droplets of water hit her hand at intervals.

Her body was so numb. She thought she'd be devastated, but there was no feeling. No words. No thoughts. She thought she'd learn to feel again after her family died.

Loren died that morning and Seiren wasn't even awake for it.

She didn't know how long she sat in the dark holding Rowan's hands. Eventually, his breathing slowed and became more natural. His shoulders relaxed and Seiren watched their movements up and down. She extracted her hand from his; he'd left finger marks around her wrist.

She put Madeleine around her neck again. Her sister stirred, taking some time to adjust after being detached for three days. Madeleine's familiar presence was like a warm blanket to the cold numbness occupying Seiren's innards. Madeleine felt around Seiren's mind, breathing a sigh of relief knowing she was intact, and then took in the images Seiren fed her.

Oh, my gosh. Seiren's mind was filled with Madeleine's conflicted feelings of sorrow and fear. Is it true? This is horrible.

I should have gotten there earlier.

It's not your fault. Don't be stupid. You didn't ask that woman to attack Loren. Just like you didn't ask that Hannan monster to kill Dad and me.

But...

Don't. Blame. Yourself.

That blonde-haired woman with the jewellery decorating her face. Seiren remembered her well, but didn't know her name. She wasn't in the list of registered mages.

There are over two hundred mages in Karma. It's not surprising you don't know her face.

I need to know that face. The tall man had his hood up. There's no way I can recognise him. Hers is the only clue I've got to Loren's killer.

You don't even know she killed Loren. You just found her at the scene.

As good as guilty.

Seiren swallowed. Her heart still palpitated against her chest.

Loren was a good person. Why do all the good people die? You, Mum, Dad, her...

I don't regret dying in your place, Seiren. It's the one good thing I've ever done.

Seiren's lips trembled, but still the tears did not come.

A soft knock at the door caught her attention. It eased open. She recognised the two faces: Tylene and Dent, Rowan's subordinates. Tylene held a candle, the light throwing her puffy eyes into sharp relief. Her boyish haircut wilted as if reflecting the gravity of the news. Dent stood behind her, his face submerged in shadows. In his hands was a tray of potatoes and cold meat.

"Is he...?" Tylene said in a hushed voice. She picked her way over and peeped at him. "He doesn't ever sleep."

"He's tired."

"He never sleeps, Mage Nithercott." Tylene bit her lip. "Have you heard...?"

"About Loren?" The name caused a lump to rise in Seiren's throat. "Yes. Rowan told me a few hours ago. What happened?"

"We aides aren't privy to most magical information," said Dent. "But we were just told she passed away in her sleep. Never woke up after she was found near that pier in Benover."

"They were good friends growing up, you know?" Tylene hiccuped. "They were always head to head in their studies even though Mage Rummage was a few years older. She entered King's Academy later than everyone. I always thought... Felora and Peron and Dent and I always thought they'd end up together. They fit together so well."

"Now's not the time to talk about your romantic hopes, Tylene," said Dent, setting the tray down at Seiren's bedside table.

"Does it matter? It's not like it's ever going to happen now, is it?" Tylene's voice shook. "But Loren had feelings for him. You're a guy, Dent, you probably never noticed it. But Loren never had her eyes off Rowan, but I think he has no idea. He's so thick about it even though he's a prodigy himself and always been so mature for his age. He's an idiotic kid, really."

"Don't let him hear you say that."

She laughed; the sound wavered. "He'd hit the roof if he did. I'm sorry, Mage Nithercott. It's probably not something you're interested in."

She was right; it wasn't, but Seiren felt it rather insensitive if she were to agree aloud.

You'd lie to yourself, Seiren Harred.

"I'll leave you the food. Please... be kind to him, Mage. He's brash and rude, but he means well. His family didn't take kindly to him enrolling to be a mage because they're such strong militants. And his first mission ended up with everyone dead so he's always had so much guilt and heavy responsibility about people under his care."

So that explained his control-freak attitude about everything Seiren did. He didn't want her to screw him and everyone else over, because someone got there before her.

"He just doesn't want that to happen again, but he goes about it in the worst way possible because he's an idiot."

"That's enough now, Tylene."

Tylene bowed her head. A tear fell and disappeared into the darkness.

"I'm sorry. I've said too much. But please consider my words. Don't judge him too harshly. I'll leave you two be."

Well that left me with more questions than answers.

Does it, though? It's an awful lot of responsibility to look after one person, never mind a whole team. He blames himself for screwing up even though it probably wasn't his own fault.

You talk like you've been there.

Who was the older sister? Who covered your ass whenever you screwed up when we were kids? Oh yeah, me. And guess what: I'm not the only one that worries about you, butthead.

Seiren's hand rested on Rowan's. Her gut twisted.

"I'm sorry."

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