A drip of blood runs down my finger and I lick it off. I sit in the Day Room with my needle and thread lazily stitching at the new gown I've been sewing. I try my best to fill my free time with more amusing company, but not many are usually up at this ungodly time.

The bay window has become my personal spot during the hours of the night along with the Study. Axil had it cozied up just for me. Soft pillows and blankets stocked in shelves if I ever find myself drifting off to sleep, candlesticks, snacks, and old books fill the room.

The sun has not risen, the sky still an inky black. There's not even a sliver of moonlight and it makes the stars sparkle even brighter.

Candlelight illuminates the window just enough to see but still soft enough for my tired eyes to rest. I don't try to wake up at two in the morning, it just seems to be the time I am always reminded of what I failed to do.

It's the screams... Lucy's screams as Adam falls to the hard ballroom floor. Axil's eyes widening in fear of the bullet that was meant for him. In all my life of being the daughter of a mafia boss, never have I seen such terror in one's eyes. It's my own scream as I see my mother flash before my eyes, shielding that bullet from Axil. It's the glimpses of those exact moments which make me jolt awake and throw up in the bathroom every night.

I then curl up here unable to stomach lying back down in my own bed. Sometimes I sew like I am this morning, other times I will read in the Study, but I mostly end up distracted. I find my eyes drift over to the window, searching the night sky.

And though I don't like to be alone, this is the only moment I can collect my thoughts which usually only happens in broken whispers. But this morning there is only one word I keep whispering.

"Why?"

Why did this all have to happen?

Why me?

Why aren't I good enough?

Why do I still feel like this?

Why can't I sleep?

Why did they have to die?

"Why? Why? Why?"

"Am I interrupting you?"

I look over my shoulder, startled. The queen stands under the entrance with a soft smile glowing on her face. Never after the first dinner we had has she ever been rude or inconsiderate again. No, she's since proven quite the opposite.

Bubbling suspicion rises in my stomach and I force it back down. It's such a habit to second guess the nature of sympathy. For some, it's love. For others, it's a weapon. Not here though. Not at Lumbridge. But I have been wrong before. So very wrong.

"No, no," I whisper. "I'm sorry I woke you this morning,"

"Now, you know you don't have to apologize. I love you."

Those three words feel like the burning embers of a fire that glows even once the flame has died.

She sits next to my left, angling herself towards me. Resting into the cushions she sighs and props her head up with her hand.

"I know," I murmur, "That doesn't mean I'm not sorry. I've caused enough trouble already."

"You really shouldn't talk about yourself like that, Zaria. It wasn't your fault."

"I still played a part. That's just as bad."

"You saved Lumbridge. You saved—

"I don't care!" I yell a little too loud. My tired voice travels through the soundless hall, echoing around every corner. Taking a deep breath, I will the tears back into my eyes before they can escape. "It's not enough to save a kingdom when people I lov-... when people I care about suffered."

I can't say it. I used to. There were only two people in this world I loved. My mother and John. One of them is dead and the other wants me dead.

"I was going to say you saved us. My husband, my son, my daughter, Crista, myself... You saved all of us."

I look her in the eyes. They are the same ocean eyes as Axil. I get lost in them. Everybody does. Her beauty is not like anything anyone could ever replicate. She is so unique, so lovely. She is everything I could never be.

"That list is too small."

She doesn't respond.

The truth is, not many lives were taken during the night of the ball, but it was still too many. A handful of civilians, Adam, and my mother. Nine lives in total. But it was still too much of a cost.

Part of me hates this pain that I feel. If I were still Zaria Farewell of Flesherg, death wouldn't trouble me. All I would feel is this numb tingle that would travel from my core to my fingertips and then it would be gone and forgotten. I had other things to think about. I didn't have time for obsessing.

Now all I do is worry and feel this sharp misery that comes in waves at the most unexpected times. It hurts all too real. The other part of me believes I should be glad to be feeling this pain. It's the only way to heal. What irony.

I see her look down at the jumbled fabric in my lap. She smiles her, I'm-going-to-get-you-to-feel-better-smile.

"Is that a new dress?"

I try to break my daze of whys and just have a normal conversation for once.

"Yeah," I sniffle from the chill, sitting so near the window. "It's for Lucy."

"She'll think its lovely," she says, caressing my shoulder. Her hands are a warm contrast to the coolness of my skin and I lean into her touch.

"I hope so," I mutter starting to daze again.

She gets up ever so gracefully, adjusting her skirt as she stands. Her fingers fold as they always do when she addresses someone. The rings on her finger flash beams of light in the soft glow of the burning candle.

"I wish you peace, Zaria," she says, a slight strain in her voice.

When I look up, she is not there. It is only then I realize I had closed my eyes at her words. If only she knew how often I whisper that same word to myself in the middle of the night curled up at this very window.

"Peace," I whisper, hoping that someone, anyone might hear my plea.

***

"Wake up!"

I'm pulled back to reality, my subconscious mind wishing to slip back into blissful sleep.

"Zaria! Wake up!"

It is then that I recognize the voice, like a sister. Everything about Crista since I met her has been like a string attached to my heart... and Crista loves to pull her side of the string.

"What is it?" I ask still a little groggy. My eyes flutter, refusing to open all the way. Crista's soft curls bounce, whipping my face as she shakes me awake. The fuzzy swirl of colors starts to define. Her golden-brown eyes pierce into mine.

"Crista, I had just gone back to sleep," I moan rubbing my eyes. "What do you need?"

I force myself to sit up, as does she. The jingle of her bangle bracelets draws my attention. She fidgets her wrists back and forth.

"What's wrong?"

"What did I miss?" I start to wonder, racking through all of yesterday's events. Nothing was amiss as far as I could tell. I saw her later that evening. We shared a cup of tea; Crista, Lucy, and I. Nothing.

"Soft."

No not now. Anytime but now, I plead.

"Failure."

The whispers. John's whisper. Overwhelmingly mocking. Just let go, I tell myself. But every time I try to say goodbye to his voice, it only becomes louder. After so long of trying to fight it, I've leaned that letting it pass is the only way to get it to go away.

Crista's far off echo is the only thing that pulls me out of this spiral. I can hear her quivering voice, but it all just sounds like a jumbled mess.

"What do you think it means?" she asks.

One last hiss, and it's gone. The whisper sounds a horrible shriek through my ears, sending a shiver down my spine.

"Are you okay?" she asks, her eyebrows furrowing.

"Yeah," I utter a bit too quickly. I shake my head, blinking rapidly. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

She looks away, biting her lip. "I had this dream," she starts to say. Her voice cracks a bit and she stutters. "I—I don't know who it was."

"Who what was?" I ask looking from left to right just to make sure no else is here.

"I was in a big, dark... it was a long hallway. It was empty and I could hear the pounding of my own heartbeat. It was getting faster and faster."

I watch her face as she recalls her dream. Her eyes squint, her shoulders turtling herself in.

"It was... like I was looking for something but don't know what." She paused. "It got to the point that the beat was all I could hear but as I kept walking it got slower and quieter. I felt myself getting tired...

"It was like..." she rubs her hands together back and forth, her eyes glued to the floor. "It felt like I was going to die.

My stomach drops and I can't help the gasp that escapes my mouth.

"I don't know what it feels like, but it... I don't even know the words to describe the feeling."

Her deep eyes finally look back up at me. Her cheeks redden and the bite marks on her lip draw blood.

"I dropped to my hands and knees, thinking I could crawl out of wherever I was and then I heard it."

"What did you hear?"

"It said, come find me."

My heart drops to my stomach. "And?"

"And I woke up."

I immediately draw up an explanation and nothing else comes to mind other than what I dread for it to be.

"Don't worry too much." I hate myself more and more as I force myself to smile. "A lot has happened. You've been through so much. It was probably just a nightmare."

She looks over her shoulder away from me. "Yeah, you're probably right," she mumbles hugging her arms together.

I sense her fear. I can see it. A deep purple aura around her. A depressive contrast to her glittering gold ambiance of most days.

I've been able to see people's emotions ever since Crista transferred her magic to me in exchange to raise both our mothers from the dead. The gift has come quite handy yet I still wish it could be invisible to me sometimes; a selfish thought, but I find myself getting so wrapped up in other people's emotion it's hard to pull myself back and control my own emotions.

"How about I treat you to some pancakes this morning," I prod her in the arm, trying to distract from the horror of last night.

She smiles, but nothing around her changes. Deep, deep purple. A hue so dark like the shadows of night.

All I can do is smile with her. I drop the heap of fabric from my lap and grab for her hand. She takes it, just like she always has.

Walking her to the Dining Hall there are three things on my mind.

One, I must protect Crista.

Two, I need to speak with Axil.

And three, her dream was not just a fantasy.