All Ashley could see was flames. Great, towering orange tendrils reaching as far as the eye could see. All she could hear was screaming. It wasn't just screams of fear, these were high-pitched, animalistic screeches of pain and horror. She was dying.

Vaguely she could see the outline of a humongous black stag looming over her, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was the pain. Scorching and blistering weren't the right words to describe it, but they were what came closest. The young demigod could quite literally feel her skin being shaped and incinerated by the flames.

Then, just as suddenly as the inferno had appeared, it vanished. The girl jolted upright and her already frantic heartbeat shot upwards as she registered the arms wrapped around her. After a moment or so of flailing, she let herself lie still. That was Will's voice in her ear, telling her she would be alright. And for once, just this once, she decided to trust an adult.

The brunette teen let him hold her and talk to her as if she was one of his many strays. If it was anyone else, and Ashley did mean anyone else, she would've gutted him for hugging her, let alone kiss her forehead. However, she sensed that he needed this, perhaps more than she did. So, Ashley begrudgingly let him hold her.

She didn't start to talk till she started to feel trapped rather than comfortable and safe. "Did I wake you? Don't bother lying, I'll know."

Will shifted so he was sitting further away from the teen. "Yes, but I probably would've had a nightmare of my own, so it's fine."

She groaned and reached for her cup of water. Ashley noted that it was disgustingly warm and tasted distinctly of what could only be described as 'plastic cup.' The brunette crinkled her nose and set it down in disappointment.

Will's blue eyes cautiously watched her. "You kept saying 'it burns.' What did you mean?"

Her eyebrows furrowed together slightly. "I don't remember all of it, but I think..." she paused to clear her throat. "I think I just had a dream about being burnt at the stake."

It went awkwardly silent for a moment before a ringing phone split the silence. Ashley instinctively trained her curious green eyes on Will, who fumbled for his phone.

Ashley knew something was wrong the second he answered the call. Instinctively, she slipped out of bed without making a sound. Run, whispered her mind, run and don't look back. Instead, Ashley lets her body relax and tried not to look overly curious.

The look in his murky eyes said it all. At least on some level or other, he knew. For a split second she imagined him leaping across the bed like a magnificent stag and holding a knife to her throat or a gun to her head. "Who killed Georgia Madchen?"

In all honesty, she didn't know. Ashley loathed not knowing, although she couldn't recall if she had been that way from the beginning or if that was a trait she absorbed from Edward Nygma. Not knowing leads to uncertainty, and uncertainty is the easiest way to get killed as an assassin or as a demigod. The deaths were never quick and painless either. The bodies were always torn at the seams or broken into something entirely unrecognizable, but either way, they would be left to drown in a sea of their own blood.

Will's denouncing gaze bore into her like shards of broken glass. It's accusatory and almost patronizing in nature. Ashley can feel the corners of her mouth tilting down slightly. That look was typically reserved for Freddie Lounds, whom Will perceived as a problematic annoyance. The younger brunette bit back the urge to scoff and comment on Will's expression. It wouldn't ease his doubts about her, just as it wouldn't ease Ashley's doubts about HERSELF.

He knows, thrums her heart. Ashley's brain argues the contrary, but seems her heart and gut have made up their minds, and were jumping out of joy, nerves, and excitement. He knows.