Slowly, they walked towards the cottage.

"This is something you fear?" She asked Micah.

"That's why it's there."

The screaming had stopped and Britta thought she could hear someone sobbing. Britta listened closely, and realised she was speaking between each sob.

"She's just a child." She was crying.

Beside her, Micah had stopped walking. Britta looked back and realised his eyes were darting around nervously. She could tell he recognized where they were.

"The only way to get through is to go in there." Britta reminded him softly.

He took a deep breath and stepped inside.

The windows only let a small amount of light through, but she could see a woman kneeling on the floor, hands clasped to her chest. A man stood in the corner of the room, holding a girl up, a knife at her throat. Britta barely recognized her as the girl Micah had been talking to before.

"If you tell anyone about this, I will kill him too." He spat venomously, his eyes flickering to a woman in the corner of the room. Britta shivered at his ice-blue eyes, wondering how they could be so different from Micahs.

Before Britta could react, he slashed the knife across the girls' throat. Britta felt Micahs hand almost leave her grip as he rushed to her. The people there didn't notice him or her, but outside, Britta caught a glimpse of movement, and got the feeling that Micah had seen this too, all this time ago. Micah knelt beside the girl, a look of pain on his face. Britta counted to twelve, before tightening her grip and pulling him away.

"I never did anything." He said, still looking back. "But she was my sister Bren."

Britta couldn't answer, because suddenly they were falling again. She felt herself come in contact with water. She gasped, and then coughed, swimming to the surface.

No, please not this.

But when she surfaced, she could see everything. The current, swirling around the rock walls and trying to pull her under. She had no goal this time. She couldn't feel Diana there, telling her to keep going. Her breaths came quicker and her arms began to flail around, almost hitting Micah in the face.

"Bren, it's okay, it's just water." Micah said to her. He was talking calmly again, like her instructor.

She managed to stop thrashing, but still, she was terrified. This was the last thing her mother had heard. The ground was so far underneath her. There was no escape.

"Fight it." He commanded. "If it's drowning you're scared of, swim deeper, show them you aren't scared."

Britta shook her head. "It's not drowning, it's the river." She said. "My mother."

"This isn't the same river."

"It's the same water." She panted.

"You're being stupid, are you scared of the water you drink?"

"You don't get it!" She said, twisting around to face him, she forgot about the river, anger burning in her eyes. "It's not the water, it's what it did." Suddenly, she was standing on dry land, forgetting the river having caused it to disappear. Still angry at him, she wrenched herself out of his grip, then realising she had to hold him to see what was happening. And she wanted to put off her own fears for as long as possible.

Micah was standing still, and they were both surrounded by people cheering. Someone was saying something, but Britta followed everyone's eyes down to the arena. Inside, stood two young men, one with red hair. She saw the black haired one, and realised it was another one of Micah's memories.

She watched as the two began to fight, seeing their blades clash. Even from where she stood, she recognized the shape, and touched her scar, hidden by the shroud. Somehow, Micah was related to these people. The fighting began to get faster, and people cheered them on. Britta turned, and found Micah looking on. He looked calmer, standing rigidly and watching the fighting, but a muscle twitched in his jaw. Suddenly, he turned and walked away, Britta hurrying to catch up with him.

Just as they were almost away from the arena, the scene materialised in front of them. She saw Micah's fingers ball into fists, and realised the fight must symbolise something, as it looked like for him, the outlook was good. She realised what was going to happen a second before it did, and shut her eyes, as a thud echoed across the area. The crowd went silent, until Britta realised they were alone again.

She glanced quickly at Micah, but knew he wasn't going to say anything. She looked around her instead, and felt a rushing sensation in her stomach as the scene changed.

They stood inside a large building, which reminded Britta of the palace. She took a step forwards, pulling Micah with her, until they stood in the middle of the room. She didn't recognize the place, but there was a bad feeling about it. There was movement from the corner of her eyes, and she spotted herself, standing there, reflected again and again. She was surround by mirrors.

She squinted at her reflection, and suddenly realised her green eyes were framed by long lashes, and her jaw line had changed.

The shroud.

Britta caught Micah staring at her, confused. Then, a white fabric gathered at her feet, and swirled up around her in a dress. Her hair piled itself on top of her head, gloves covered her hands and a choker type necklace tightened on her neck. She bit her lip, and faced Micah again.

"You're a-"

"Please stop stating the obvious."

"But you're her." He said.

Britta squeezed her eyes shut, suddenly feeling panicked. There was a corset around her waist and it was constructing her lungs. When she looked at her arms, they weren't hers. They were the same skin colour, but there was none of the toned quality which she had gained from all her exercise. Then she realised the scar was gone too.

The girl in the mirror was who she wanted to be when she was at the abbey, but it wasn't her. She felt trapped at this new person, and rung her hands together. She felt a lump on one, and nervously pulled back the glove. On her finger, sat a ring. Here, this version of her was trapped. Would this be her after this adventure had ended?

"I am not her, she is not me." She whispered. "I will never be 'her' but I will never be 'Bren' either." She took a deep breath, "So deal with it."

She felt the ring on her finger disappear, and that horrible sense of ownership that had rested in the necklace on her neck disappear as well. She repeated those words in her head, until she felt the daggers resting on her hip again.

She met Micah's eyes for a moment, and he touched her face.

"How do you do that?" He asked.

"It's just always happened." She said, holding out her hand. "My name is Britta."

They were in a forest again. The trees in this one pressed closely together, and the undergrowth tore at Brittas' legs. Micah cursed, and she whipped her head around to look at him, but could see nothing, just more trees.

"Keep walking." He told her, almost managing to speak in the voice he used as a trainer.

"Where is this?" Britta asked, following his command.

"In the woods."

"Really? I thought we were in desert terrain." She said.

"And I thought you were a boy." Micah countered, Britta realised he didn't sound as scared when he was insulting her.

"It was right in front of your eyes the whole time, yet I never felt the need to tell you."

"I didn't ask the obvious question."

"I meant, why are we here?" She asked.

Micah paused. "Because is somewhere I never wanted to see again."

"You're scared of trees?" She asked, trying to make him forget the situation again. He glared at her. "The woods are made out of trees, and the trees are made out of wood. Tell me Micah, are you scared of the wood your house is made out of?" She mocked him.

"Bren this isn't helping." He growled, just as sunlight hit them and Britta had to squint her eyes against the light.

"We're out of the woods aren't we?" She asked.

Micah grunted, ignoring. Britta was already trying to figure out what would happen next. They were in a meadow, like the one they started in, but she could see no boundaries to it. She turned, and she could see Diana, standing near her. Britta began to walk towards her, as at the same time, a form appeared behind her.

"Diana?" Britta asked, her sister didn't answer, just gave her a pleading look.

Britta began to run towards her, but a strong wind had started up, pushing her back. She squinted through the hair whipping around her face and saw the figure raise its arm behind Diana. Britta stopped, realising it held a knife, which was aimed at Diana's throat. Britta screamed at Diana to get away, and began to run towards her, but strong arms held her back. She clawed at them, needing to get to her sister, yet she could do nothing as the knife plunged down. She thought she heard the wind whispering;

Your fault.

Britta let out a sob, and tried to get to Diana.

"Bren, Britta, stop." Micah said. "It's not real, and if you keep acting like that, you'll just have to watch it over and over again." As he said that, the person behind Britta had killed Diana and she was already getting back up, but Britta was beginning to make sense of it all.

She took a deep breath, and pushed the panic away. The wind stopped, and Britta pushed her wild hair out of her eyes.

"I'm fine." She said, "I just wasn't expecting this."

Micah nodded, his arms back down by his sides. She noticed the scratch marks, and felt guilty, but she ignored it, taking his hand again. Instantly, the scene changed, and they were in the cottage from the start once again. There was a man standing in the corner. Still shaky from watching Diana die, Britta only just noticed that he was the man she had seen before.

He walked over to Micah, this time, being able to see both of them. Britta caught the glint of metal, and watched as he drew the blade. Micah was standing completely still, his hands clenched so hard his knuckles were going white. The man held the sword at Micahs chest. If he swung it, the flat part of the blade would hit him. The man's eyes were dark and blank.

Micah didn't move as he swung it towards him, and it felt so wrong to see him just standing there. Without thinking, Britta grabbed her dagger and stepped in front of Micah. She caught the blade at the hilt, and the man flipped it around so the sharp side was facing her. Then he pushed. Britta strained against it, falling to one knee as he drove her into the ground. Then, the pressure eased, and she felt metal clash above her. Micah went to swing again, but they were out of the cottage and standing by cliff edge.

Britta walked towards it, and peered down, far below her, she could see the clouds, and below that, she could see the ground and the river.

"We have to jump." Said Micah from beside her.

Britta took a deep breath, and stepped forwards. It took an impossibly long time to reach the ground, and as they fell, Britta stretched out. She felt almost free. As they reached the clouds, she grabbed at one, and felt her fingers pass through it. The ground rushed closer and she curled up to protect herself from the impact, but just as she was sure they were about to hit, everything went black.