Day one, hour one, Keela counted. There was nothing here. She seemed to be sitting on some sort of floor but as far as she could see, there was nothing. The only thing that existed here was her. So she started walking. She walked. Days were arbitrary but she walked. She walked, telling herself she wouldn’t stop unless her legs hurt, keeping a steady count. The only thing to remind her of the time she had spent here. Using the side of her boot, she carved in a mark at each day, keeping a rough count. And she kept walking. Her legs wouldn’t hurt. And there was nothing else. So she walked.

Soon, she ran out of space on her left boot. She carved on the right one. And when that boot gave out, she decided only to carve months on her pants by singing the fabric with lightning slightly. She had stopped walking, counting roughly and indecisively. She simply sat and thought. Thought about her loved ones. She didn’t have many. Velka, Saphielle who, although wasn’t up there yet, would definitely climb at some point, Feno, maybe, maybe not Feno. Bea. Tessa. Ethan… Ethan why…

Fifteen months? She didn’t think the count was right but the count was wrong. The count was the right wrong. Wrongfully right. Rightfully wrong. Wrong. She started thinking aloud, thoughts escaping her without her knowledge.

“Ethan, why? The elves aren’t all the same. I didn’t kill your parents. I loved you why did you punch me? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?”

“It’s no use, they probably all hate me now. Tessa and Bea probably sided with him. Brainwashed into hatred. Heh.”

Keela added another mark on her pants, counting internally. The days kept coming by, incessantly escaping her grasp.

“I stabbed my mom. That’s kinda fucked up. Not like once too. What was it, thirty-three? Thirty-seven? Thirty-six? I think it was thirty-four.”

“Am I a bad person?”

Humming to herself, she added three marks on her pant leg, reaching the twelfth.

“Happy birthday void.”

The marks kept adding up, making two rows.

“Do you think I could master that magic? It looks neat.”

“Y’all ever stop to consider it ain’t that nice to shove that many responsibilities onto a young gal with no memories?”

“One year, nine months and twenty-four days. Fuck me…”

“Why am I so hungry but I’m not?”

Staying silent for a month, she abruptly wakes up and adds a mark.

“When’s Velka’s birthday? I wanna buy her a gift. She deserves a pretty ring or two.”

“Tut-tut-tut-tut-tut-tut. Too much. Hungry hunger hungry. Stomach hurty.”

Falling into incoherence for a while, the marks accumulated.

“Love wuv wuv. Dove love wuv.”

“Bertaut.”

“I wish I could’ve done something.”

“What’s that noise?”

From the horizon, a small grey string ebbed in the absence of air, a low frequency humming through her skull.

“Shut uuuuup.”

Over the next few months, the frequency steadily grew sharper, making her wince.

“Velka, Velka, Velka, Velka, Velka.”

“I’ve got to go back but I can’t.”

“Maybe if I die.”

“I should die.”

Several months later, waking up, Keela found her dagger in her flank. It was painful but she certainly wasn’t dead.

“Can’t die. What about--”

Interrupted in her sentence, she retched, folding in half before a stream of blood exited her mouth.

“How much time…”

“Four five two four five two four five two. Hahahahahahaha.”

Several grey strings now ebbed in the air behind her, always out of her grasp. The frequency pounded her eardrums regularly, causing her to bleed slightly.

“F-f-fourrr. N-nine… T-t-threeee.”

“V-velka my t-tongue f-feels h-heavvyyyy.”

“G-gotta g-go b-back.”

“B-b-back.”

“Mag-magi-ma-magic.”

Humming softly, she theorized, sitting completely still. She explored the depths of her magic, leaving nothing to be unexplored. The depth of the mana she had, the grey threads linked inside her, intertwined within themselves. She hadn’t stopped counting, but paid no mind to the time, reflexively adding marks. When she finally understood, she stood up, her legs barely holding her up. Looking at her leg, she smirked.

“S-six, f-five, t-twenty-f-four. G-good ridd-d-dance.”

Concentrating, she gripped the fabric of reality between her fingers, using all her force to wrestle it open. A similar opening appeared before her; the same that she had been throw in six years ago. Falling forward, she slumped on the floor in the very same room that she had left from, only to be greeted by the exact same scene. The incredulous eyes of everyone in the room glared as she slumped to the ground, her own blood pooling under her. The first thing that hit her was the pain. The overwhelming sting of blood flowing into open wounds. She screamed, gripping at her flank, screeching as the pain surged through her body, into her eyes, into her ears; overwhelming every sense. The second thing that hit her was the sense of urgency. Standing up, she funneled energy to her muscles, simply to keep herself straight. She grabbed the head of the closest enemy and tore into their throat with her nails, ripping out the arteries without giving them a chance to react. This let Velka have her reaction. The rest of the assailants didn’t last long. Slumping over to the mage who had imprisoned her, she raised her head, grabbing him by the throat.

“H-how d-did you l-learn t-that s-sp-spell?” she asked, slurring every word heavily.

“I didn’t! It was a gate scroll!” replied the mage, kicking frantically to attempt to free himself.

“G-good.”

On her last cue, Keela threw him into the open portal, releasing her control over it as it closed. Going over to Velka, she fell forward short, landing face first on the dusty hardwood floor. When she looked up, Velka was crying, probably very confused at the whole situation. She looked pretty under the torchlight.

“Your t-turn to h-hold m-me…” she said, before passing out from exhaustion and pain, the past six years catching up to her in an instant.