The days ahead brought no revelations for Esmeralda and Astrid, only further nightmares. Esmeralda felt herself immersed into a separate world than the one she was physically in, and it changed her. Each night she would cleave someone’s intangible inner self clean open to dig something foul out, or blast open their bodies to solve a problem once and for all, or do some other unspeakable thing, and she’d wake up screaming, moaning, sweating, with her heart thundering against her ribs.

Sometimes she woke Astrid up inadvertently; other times she remained still and silent, desperate to jostle her partner awake but forbidding herself to do so. Esmeralda kept constant private vigil for herself; she never told Astrid about her dreams or what was weighing on her, and after enough increasingly firm rebuttals Astrid stopped asking.

An increasingly irritable Esmeralda spent most of her time lying on the lighthouse balcony, staring at the sea. Astrid, still focused on the artifact, didn’t pester her; at most she’d bring her something for supper, which she’d leave with quiet words by the window. Esmeralda would nibble on whatever it was until she felt too sick to continue; eventually Astrid would lay down to sleep, and after a long pause Esmeralda would join her, shivering beneath the moon-soaked sheets.

Every night, like this, Esmeralda lay down to sleep. Dreading in her heart another round of nightmares, yet unable to will herself awake any longer, her body would shut down; and before long she would be thrashing about in her dreams.

Yet, one night, no dreams ever came. Esmeralda awoke, lightly dazed, to the soft glow of the morning sun cast across her face, and the autumn sky a deep sapphire that stretched across the horizon and bled together with the sea below it. Feeling taxed but rested, Esmeralda dressed herself and went downstairs.

To her surprise, Astrid wasn’t there. She frowned, trying not to worry; Astrid was always here. But she’s an adult, Esmeralda thought; she can want some alone time. It wasn’t like her to leave without a word, but that wasn’t so unreasonable; she’s not a prisoner. She’d probably be just around back anyway.

Esmeralda opened the front door and immediately stopped in her tracks. Her bike - the one Astrid had quit on learning to drive almost immediately, preferring instead to cling to Esmeralda whenever she had to go anywhere - was gone. Sprinting upstairs she began to worry; and looking to her desk she realized the key for her bike was gone, as was the artifact.

The artifact? Esmeralda shook her head, trying to jostle her thoughts straight. She couldn’t worry about that now; it didn’t matter why Astrid was gone, just where she had gone. Rushing around the room Esmeralda assembled a smattering of necessities, throwing them into a bag. Then she set about trying to find Astrid.

Wracking her brain for some way to locate her, Esmeralda decided to beg. With panic assailing her heart and unsteady hands she scribbled out a series of symbols over several inches of parchment and stood in the center of them, outside, holding one of Astrid’s books, something well-worn Esmeralda had grabbed off the shelf. Opening it Esmeralda saw, in familiar neat scrawl on the inside cover, the owner’s name - Astrid I. Hakala.

Blinking away tears, with worry and remorse behind her words, Esmeralda clutched the book to her chest and began to beg for the world to tell her where Astrid had gone.

She begged the sea, waves roaring as it was assaulted by churning winds; she begged the wind as it whipped through her unkempt hair, sending her curls flying like a dark shawl about her head. She begged the trees - beginning to die now - that hung above the shattered road, and the unknowable sky as vast and blue as the sea, and the wispy autumn clouds rocketing through it like angelic birds. She begged the ground underfoot, asking only for an answer - Where is Astrid?

Finally, mercifully, Esmeralda began to feel a familiar tug at her heart, as though it were lassoed, a dull ache that pulled her towards wherever Astrid was, like a compass. Returning the book Esmeralda rushed back out of the lighthouse, feeling her muscles burning as she sprinted north, down the same old road her & Astrid had ridden together all the time, and which the young woman had apparently now ridden alone. With each step that hammered the broken pavement beneath her, Esmeralda missed her bike more.

Esmeralda danced around debris as she moved, and the pull grew stronger; and eventually as it began to shift directions in her chest so did she, clambering up the steep hill that separated the old highway from thick woods. Covered in sweat, her steps began to feel plodding; her stomach twisted into a brutal knot. More than once she stumbled over the rough terrain, twisted an ankle, scraped her hands and knees on rocks and harsh thorns - but she couldn’t let herself stop.

When she did find Astrid it was under a tree, partially buried in underbrush, hardly conscious. She had bruises and small cuts on the side of her face, and more alarmingly blood had soaked through the left side of her shirt. Esmeralda could barely register any of it; she moved too fast for her mind to have time to think, kneeling down and immediately tending to Astrid’s wound, dressing it with bandages and gently tipping water into her mouth so she could drink. Astrid’s hair was matted with dirt, leaves, and twigs, and her clothes were torn and covered in dirt. She smiled weakly at Esmeralda as she cared for her, and after some time spoke hoarsely.

“I knew you’d come for me.”

“Oh songbird of course I came for you. I told you I’d never leave you.” Esmeralda spoke rapidly; she felt that if she spent too much time trying to get out a word, a sob would escape instead. She had to present herself as calmly as possible. She continued tending to Astrid.

When she’d cleaned Astrid up Esmeralda took a deep breath and looked around at the thick vegetation surrounding them. She laid a hand on Astrid’s shoulder. “Astrid, do you know where the bike is?”

Astrid nodded, just barely. “It’s back on the road. I had to leave it.”

Esmeralda was burning to know how Astrid had gotten there and why she had left in the first place; she felt her mind in a tug-of-war between peppering Astrid with questions and keeping silent. Answers had to wait, she knew; they could still be in danger, and she had to get Astrid home.

Aching but newly energized Esmeralda forbade Astrid from speaking again and took off at a frantic sprint, eventually coming upon the edge of the woods and the road Astrid had referenced. The motorcycle was there, tossed onto its side, clearly damaged by whatever had happened to it. Gingerly she lifted it and started the engine, riding it up the road a ways; it had been dinged up, but it could still ride. She felt a weight lift off her chest. Unable to maneuver it through the thicket Esmeralda hid it underneath some bushes and ran back to where Astrid was.

She hadn’t moved; Esmeralda gave her some more water and stroked her hair. “I found the bike. I’m going to get you home now, OK?”

Astrid nodded and with some effort Esmeralda got her upright. Hitching her up onto her back Esmeralda took off at a steady march, eyes darting from place to place to make sure her footing was steady. Jostled about as they walked, gasps of pain escaped Astrid’s lips, each one plunging into Esmeralda’s ears like a dagger into her heart. She went as fast as she could, her body blazing with exhaustion, her arms clung firmly around Astrid’s legs, the woman’s weight yanking at her muscles as she walked.

When they reached the road Esmeralda sat Astrid on her lap and drove them back at a slow pace, the bike chugging along, occasionally locking up or lurching. Esmeralda did her best to hold it steady, unable to speed up even as each passing moment on the bike felt glacial and agonizing. Astrid’s blood-soaked side rested against her arm, and the viscous dampness of it made her skin feel like it was on fire. Every new cry of pain that escaped Astrid’s lips felt like a knife across her stomach.

When they finally made it home Esmeralda brought Astrid inside, dragged their cot downstairs, and laid her on it. She changed her clothes and bandages, cleaning her as she did so, and nibbled on fruit with her. Astrid was mostly silent, and after eating fell asleep. Esmeralda stepped outside, shutting the door quietly behind her. Falling forward more than walking, she sank to her knees in front of the lighthouse and wept as hard as she ever had, bitter tears painting her face as the sun fell in the sky and the growing cold stung her cheeks.

Later that night, after her tears had dried - and with Astrid still asleep Esmeralda performed one of the most complex spells she knew, a charm that erected a great magical barrier around the lighthouse, sealing it off from outside threats. To successfully cast it took everything Esmeralda had left inside and more; returning to the kitchen and sitting down at the table in full dress, she put her head down and slept, Astrid safe in the cot at her feet.