Twenty four hours shouldn't have felt like too long by herself, but then again, Aubrey wasn't really used to being alone. 

She'd spent the time wandering through the forest, stumbling and trembling and going between bursts of giggles and tears. The midday sun, normally so strong, filtered weakly through the leaves and woven branches of ancient oaks. 

Aubrey had seen the occasional oak growing in the town here and there. And she'd found that oak trees were pretty enough when there was only one of them. But as she drifted between the trees, hopelessly lost, she decided that oaks weren't pretty together. They were old as time and they seemed to scrape the sky and they were wicked and hooked and gnarled and Aubrey was convinced that this forest hated her. 

She leaned against the trunk of one of the wretched trees. Her feet were sore and tired. She peered up at the sky and decided that like the oaks, the colour green was much better in moderation. Choking the ground she walked upon, creeping over rocks and boulders, dripping from jagged twigs... it looked like poison. 

Aubrey tugged back the sleeve of her tunic. She'd hoped that the magic would fade after what had happened back in the town, but there it was, vibrant and damning as ever. She set her thumb against one of the searing blue veins, feeling her pulse from her wrist. A steady thrum of energy coursed through her. 

It was still hard to believe what had happened. Aubrey had never killed anyone before—she'd never even seen a dead person. She couldn't quite process that she had killed those people. It felt like something she'd done in a dream.

But it had been her. It wasn't a dream. And she had nothing because of it. 

She picked a leaf up off the ground and twisted it in her hands. Bits of dirt dusted her hands, leaving them dry and grainy. It was an unfamiliar sensation, far from a welcome one. She shuddered, veins glowing uneasily, and dropped the leaf. 

She couldn't stay out here.

The people had said she was in exile, which meant she could never go back. Which was heartbreaking on its own—Aubrey had already found herself missing the sound of her mother's voice and the noise of the crowds outside and the way her cotton sheets felt against her skin. But she was pretty sure an exile sentence only applied to one town.

And her magic was the problem, wasn't it? Her magic was always the problem. Maybe if she got rid of it she'd be able to go back. 

Aubrey let go of her wrist and pulled her sleeve back up. She felt her eyelids droop against her will, heavy and laden with exhaustion. She knew she shouldn't sleep, and yet... well, she'd spent the night wide awake, walking around aimlessly and praying nothing mistook her for dinner. She was tired. And wasn't it better to sleep during the day? The monsters only came out at night. 

She stretched out on the hard ground, loathing the sensation of dirt against her skin, and slowly drifted into an uneven slumber. 

Loose papers drifted through the air like autumn leaves. Ghostly figures raced up and down the beach, their bodies translucent. Heaps of trash five times Aubrey's height stretched up towards the bleary gray sky. 

"Hello?" Aubrey called out softly. 

She stretched out her hand towards one of the figures, but it passed right through. 

Aubrey recoiled, nausea racing through her body. 

"Hello?" She repeated, more desperate this time. But it seemed she was the only real person there. 

She started to walk down the beach reluctantly. It seemed to go on endlessly. She didn't quite know how to leave. 

"Ow!" 

Something sharp dug into her heel. 

Aubrey knelt, examining the wound. She wasn't sure when, exactly, it had happened, but she wasn't wearing shoes. She wasn't bleeding, but a slow, dull ache started to pulse through her foot. 

As she studied the ground, searching for what had hurt her, she realized that the beach wasn't made of sand. 

She wasn't quite sure what it was made of, actually. 

She picked up a handful of the stuff, rolling it around in her palm. Tiny granules, in every colour imaginable. There were slightly larger pieces, too—smooth pieces of beach glass, little slivers of driftwood, and even scraps of fabric. 

Rubbish littered the beach as well. A wrought iron key. A twisted carriage tire. A bride-and-groom wedding cake topper.

Jumbled and chaotic as it was, Aubrey had to admit that it was oddly beautiful. 

She stood back up and continued to walk, careful now with where she stepped. Light wind ruffled her tunic and hair. The air smelled like fruit and something sour and acrid. Holographic people continued to run around, completely silent despite the way their mouths were open in conversation or in humour. 

Aubrey stretched out her arms, hopping from pile to pile. A loose piece of paper caught under her bare foot, and she slid down the beach. She laughed as she toppled over. The sound died out softly. Her sleeve slipped down her arm. 

And it was then that Aubrey realized that her magic was gone.