Chapter 1
The only part of the attack Katarina really feels is the initial blow. She sees her stepbrother running towards her, his eyes hard and cold, and then she feels something in her body break- and then she's falling. Adrenaline rushes through her, but all she can do is stare at the sky, the lovely, clear sun burning into her irises.
She hits the ground with a thump, though she hears it more than feels it. She knows she will not be able to sit up or stand, then. She can see the broken edges of bones peeking out of her, can feel her own warm, sticky blood. Someone is next to her now, saying her name, but she cannot make out who- her vision is blurry, and she must keep her gaze fixed on the sun. Surely, if she can feel its warmth, she will live- surely- but her eyelids grow heavy, and they too shut as she slips away.
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Katarina awakens in her bed in her dormitory. I'm in hell, she decides immediately. Heaven would have been home, the Claes estate, picnicking in the gardens with Milidiana or in Jeord's rooms at the palace, having tea and looking into one another's eyes. Or on second thought, perhaps not Jeord's rooms- he'd been ignoring her as of late, spending hours every day in the student council room. She hopes that twat is sorry now that she's dead. The thought almost elicits a laugh, until her chest clenches- what must Mother be feeling now, trapped at the Claes estate with only her husband and his bastard son for company, with her only daughter interred in the family crypt?- and then she pauses, abruptly. Anne is here.
"Anne!" she cries, flinging herself upon her maid, clad in naught but a nightgown. "Anne, no, did they execute you? I- it was my fault, everything, I'm so sorry-"
Anne stiffens in her grasp. "Execute me?" she gasps. "My lady, what on earth-"
"I was executed yesterday," she explains. "If you're here, you probably were too, but maybe it was an assassination, so you don't remember it?"
The older woman sighs, then, and smiles fondly. "Did you have some sort of strange dream, my lady?"
Katarina wants to argue at first, but then again- Anne has all of eternity to accept her circumstances. She needn't rush her. Detaching her arms from her beloved maid's waist, she sits upright on the edge of her bed and takes the other woman's hands gently in hers. "A dream, then," she murmurs.
"Would you like to get dressed for the day, my lady?"
All right, so they were going to pretend everything was normal. Very well, if it would help Anne, Katarina has no problem playing along. "Yes," she says, rising from her bed to stand by the mirror. "Any outfit is fine, you choose today." She's unsure if her preferred blue dress will appear here, and since Anne hasn't yet accepted the situation, she will take care not to ruin the illusion.
She can barely believe the circumstances herself. Keith killed her, her own half-brother, over that gold-digging Maria Campbell. What an idiot, she seethes. What did he think was going to happen to a bastard murderer set to inherit the wealthiest duchy in Sorcier? Worse still, he'd have made an enemy of the vicious Ames family, her mother's line, not to mention Milidiana herself. Father, though- he wouldn't care. He made a show of doting on her in order to cover up his adulterous sins, but he would doubtless try to defend the child he'd had with his lover. Well, she was dead now. He could have the bloody Claes name and all the trouble that would ensue.
Katarina does feel a moment of pity for Maria. A duke's son and heir must have seemed like a lovely prize indeed, and being from common stock with no noble confidantes, she wouldn't have realized Keith was a bastard. Or had homicidal tendencies, for that matter. She highly doubts the light mage intended her first introduction to polite society to be via murder. But then again, Keith (and possibly Alan Stuart) were the only highly-ranked men clueless enough to trust a gold-digger, and Marquess Mary Hunt would prove a ruthless opponent.
Finished with her morning ablutions (and indeed clad in her blue dress- what a wonderful maid she had), she hesitates at the doorway. Anne clearly expects her to leave the bedroom, but Katarina is hit by a sudden frission of foreboding. What hellscape lay beyond her innocent-looking white door she could not predict- but she would have to look, she knew, to help the maid that had been executed for her sins. Her precious Anne did not belong in any version of hell, and her being here could be nothing but Katarina's own fault.
Abruptly, she turns away from the door and searches her dresser frantically, until with a cry of relief, she finds her knife. It is naught but a jeweled letter-opener, but she feels a little bit safer with it safely hidden in her skirts. Anne watches her with increasing befuddlement, which Katarina ignores. She can strategize with her later, once they have some idea of what they are up against. Taking a deep breath, she cracks the door open a millimeter and lines her eye up to the gap.
The dormitory hallway looks perfectly normal. Throwing all caution to the wind, Katarina opens the door and steps outside- and nothing out of the ordinary happens then, either. She curses herself, then, for her own stupidity. She may feel alive, but she is dead, and stuck here in Sorcier Hell Academy for eternity- she's in no danger. What will the devil do, kill her again? She laughs, then, it sounding rather unhinged even to her own ears, and runs down the hallway and the stairs, bursting outside. Even this seems normal, but strangely populated- Katarina sees a good deal of faces she remembers from the real academy. How could they all be dead? Perhaps her death had begun a civil war of some sort. She wouldn't be surprised, for the vengeance of the House of Ames was legendary. A sweet rush of fondness for her maternal uncles overtook her. Milidiana's only daughter was slaughtered by her Claes husband's bastard- it was no surprise they'd started a war in response.
Happier, now, Katarina turns around again, feeling the very earth-like sun on her skin. Still nothing unusual, except- blonde hair, white suit, ah- Jeord! She waves to him frantically, rushing towards him. He'd make everything better, she was sure. He died (for her, maybe?) and now he'd see how much she meant to him all along, he'd know what to do to get Anne out of here (she is blind to many of his flaws, but even she knows he is far too cruel to end up in heaven). But to her surprise, Jeord merely gives her a distant, considering look, much like in the days just before her death, though he does stop to allow her to catch up.
"Jeord! It's- it's so good to see you- well, not that I'm glad to see you here, necessarily- but I wanted to say, I'm so sorry. What you must have gone through, what everyone must have gone through..." she trails off, then. Everyone here will have an entire memory of the war that she is missing. "Will you tell me what happened? From the moment I died onwards?"
Slowly, his gaze shifts from the usual cool, bored blue to narrow-eyed confusion. He shakes her off lightly where she is clinging to his arm and looks at her askance.
"What on earth are you talking about?" He sounds annoyed, and impatient.
"I- Jeord-" and then she realizes. He, like Anne, may not want to admit the reality of the situation. This strikes her as very out-of-character for the cold, practical third prince, but then she supposes death, if anything, could change someone. But there is one question she must ask. "I'm sorry, I don't want to force you to- to relive anything awful- but I have to ask, was I interred in the family crypt? I was, right? I don't know if Keith would have the power to block it-"
"Katarina." Now he sounds strained, the tone he uses indicating he has a very thin hold on his temper. "You are rambling nonsense like a half-wit. I suggest you see a doctor." And with that, he's walking away at a faster clip, his red-and-gold cloak fluttering behind him. She stares after him in blind anger for a few moments, fighting the urge to trip him up with an earth bump. Bastard. Swallowing the disappointment that threatens to cripple her, she decides on her next move. She will visit Nicol Ascart and Alan Stuart. As closest confidante and blood relative respectively, perhaps they will hold the keys to shaking Jeord out of his denial- and if anyone in the world was guaranteed to stay sane through the ordeal of death, it would be Nicol.
She spots him in class- oh, right, if this was Life-Sorcier Academy, she'd be missing class right now- and barges right in, dragging him outside by the hand. "Very urgent issue," she says to the dead professor, still lecturing at the blackboard. "Pardon the interruption," she says to the dead students, still taking notes. What a boring way to spend death, just sitting in class as they would have in life. They glare at her as she exits and drags Nicol to the nearest bench. His eyes too are narrowed, and he keeps looking back at the classroom. Why do you want to go back to class, she wants to scream, you're dead! But as Mother said, she would catch more flies with honey, so she arranges herself calmly on the bench.
"I'm sorry for interrupting your class," she says, trying hard to cover any traces of condescension in her tone. Perhaps classes were simply his way of coping with death. "I've only just woken up here, and I saw Jeord, but he wouldn't tell me anything- in fact, it seems like he's in denial completely about- about the state we're in. In fact, my maid Anne is as well, and I was hoping you might have something- anything, answers or information-"
Nicol seems less angry now, and more baffled. "Are you referring to your engagement? Is Jeord all right?"
"I'm referring to-" and here she lowers her voice, almost instinctually- "to us all being dead, in hell, Nicol! What else could I possibly be talking about? I need to figure out how things work as soon as possible, because I know Anne doesn't belong here-"
"Dead, in hell," he repeats flatly. "Is this some sort of prank, Miss Claes? I assure you, it is neither entertaining nor convincing in the least."
Katarina's heart drops, and tears spring to her eyes. First Anne, now Jeord, and now Nicol as well? Has this place just driven them all crazy, was she the only sane person left?
Nicol's face shifts to worry as she covers her face with her hands and lets the tears begin to fall. "Miss Claes, I didn't mean-" He pauses, taking her hand. "Let me walk you to back your rooms and call a doctor."
She snatches her hand out of his angrily. "You, you're just as useless as your best friend- if you won't help, just leave me alone-"
"Miss Claes, listen to me," he says, frowning. "I worry that in this state, you will be a danger to yourself-" and oh, no, Nicol won't let this go now, will he- so Katarina plasters on a fake smile and attempts to salvage the situation.
"You fell for it!" she exclaims, faking an unenthusiastic laugh. "It was a prank, Nicol!" To her chagrin, he accepts the lie almost instantaneously, his hands dropping from her shoulders. She's insulted, for a moment- does he really think her that petty?- but takes advantage of her good fortune to simply turn tail and run. She throws a quick look over her shoulder, and Nicol looks alarmed, but not alarmed enough to run after her, thankfully. She continues running even when she's left the building, enjoying the the way her lungs burn (as if she were still alive) and how the pounding of her shoes on the pavement seems to alleviate some of her panic and stress. She takes a few laps around the buildings, receiving odd stares from the students still in class, and unwittingly runs right past Maria Campbell several times before she spots her.
Why the girl isn't in class she doesn't know, but the light mage is lounging beneath a tree, tearing pages methodically from a textbook and folding them into tiny paper birds, which she sends flying in the direction of today's gentle breeze. This is unusual enough that Katarina slows down to a walk, taking in the scene, and their eyes meet. She is still angry at Maria, but she supposes that doesn't matter now. They are both dead, after all.
"What are you doing?" Maria asks. Katarina is too befuddled to compose an appropriate response, so she replies with the truth.
"Running."
"Why?"
Katarina shrugs. "Why are you turning your textbooks into birds?"
"I'm waiting for class to end." Then Maria's eyes narrow, uncharacteristically. "I'm going to save the man I love."
She snorts in reply. "Save Keith? It's too late for that. Whenever he dies, he'll be stuck down here with the rest of us."
"What is that supposed to mean? He's right there, and very much alive. Rest assured I intend to keep it that way, Lady Claes."
Katarina turns around, and sure enough, class has ended, and her murderer approaches, glaring at her the entire way. She blanches, feeling faint. Instinctively, her left hand shoots out to produce an earth bump while her right fists the letter-opener hidden in her skirts. He trips over the earth bump, catching himself neatly, and both he and Maria stare at Katarina as if she's lost her mind. He starts as if to come closer, and Katarina stumbles back and takes off running. Though where would that homicidal maniac go besides hell, she supposes. She should have expected to see him.
By now, the sun is hitting high noon, and Katarina is confused, sweaty, and hungry. She stops by her rooms, where Anne furnishes her with a new set of clothing, and makes her way to the cafeteria. Oddly enough, they're serving chicken milanese, the same dish that had served as her last meal when she was alive, eaten in this very same building. Everything is identical, right down to the side-dishes and desserts, even the scuffle between Leonard and his sister over the last available plum pudding.
Katarina is starting to have a very bad feeling about this. What could possibly be more cruel than forcing someone to relive their death?
Automatically, she takes her food and sits at her usual table. Sienna, Maribelle, and the remainder of her followers begin to trickle in, filling seat after seat at the table. She stares at them all in shock. Each one of them is wearing the exact same dresses they were wearing on the day of her death. Katarina clumsily excuses herself, and locks herself in a bathroom stall, trying to make sense of it all. So perhaps none of them are real, here, besides her. Jeord, Nicol, Maria, Keith, Sienna- they are all illusions, phantoms designed to trap her. Well. They wouldn't fool her, for she was Katarina Claes, and the blood of the Claes and Ames houses had once flowed through her veins. She would escape experiencing her death.
Rushing back to the cafeteria, she bolts down her food- she will need her strength, after all- and hastens back to her room, where she asks Anne to assemble as much preserved food and golden ingots as possible. She packs it all in a bag with several of her warmest riding outfits, which are the only trousered ensembles she's ever owned, and the sturdiest boots Anne is able to find in her closet.
"But- my lady, where are you going?"
"Sweet false-Anne, don't worry about me," says Katarina, squeezing the phantom's hands. "I am going to escape my fate." She heads for the less-guarded back gate of the school, and dodges the guards by tripping them with her earth bump- and then Katarina sets off walking, determined to get as far from Sorcier Hell Academy as possible.
Much, much later, when the sun has long since set and the stars twinkle above, Katarina comes upon a small village, where she overpays for a room at the dodgy local inn. Her tiredness wins out over her disgust, and she falls asleep there on the moth-eaten mattress.
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The next morning, to her surprise and chagrin, she awakens in Sorcier Hell Academy once more. "How did they find me, Anne?" she asks, but of course, her phantom-maid has no reply worth hearing. She decides to try again, but to start earlier and take more precautions this time. She leaves as soon as Anne dresses her and packs. Katarina is careful to walk by the river, so that the royal bloodhounds will not be able to follow her, and throws some of her belongings about to misdirect any searchers. Making her way to a different village from yesterday, she walks toward the inn- but then has second thoughts. Cringing to herself, she realizes the owner of the last inn must have tipped someone off. Resolutely, she holds up her letter-opener and slices off her hair, burying the long length of it behind a hedge. Nobody would recognize Lady Katarina Claes like this, dirty-faced and short-haired. But just in case, she decides to cover her face, and quickly slices one of her shirts into a passable mask.
Luckily, the inn is disreputable enough that they don't even question a suspicious masked customer attempting to rent a room. Then, for the second time in as many days since her death, Katarina sleeps in absolutely intolerable conditions.
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Words are not enough to express her anger when she wakes up in Sorcier Hell Academy again. Was this hell, then? Did the devil think he could torture her by forcing her to live here? Well, he had another thing coming. Katarina would live here, and she would enjoy it. Even if Sienna and Maribelle and the rest were only phantoms, they were still copies of her friends. There were worse animate constructs to exist alongside. Determined, she sits up in bed, feeling the swish of her hair cascading down her back- her hair. To Katarina's mounting horror, her hair is perfectly intact, as if she'd never cut it yesterday. Whatever being that guarded Hell Academy wasn't simply retrieving her- somehow, it was resetting her.
She goes through her usual morning ablutions, and descends the stairs to witness the exact same tableau as she'd seen on the first day she woke up in Hell. Exactly the same people, walking exactly the same way, at exactly the same speed. She spots Jeord, retracing his path from the training grounds to the campus center, and despite her better instincts, runs after him again.
"Jeord-" she begins, barely able to articulate. "Will you sit with me at lunch today?" She tries, hard, not to think about the reality of the situation. Jeord is not here, this is just an animate phantom-Jeord, but somehow, its presence still brings with it a kind of subconscious comfort in the familiar arch of his brow, turn of his lips.
"If I must," he replies, brow furrowed. Katarina glares at him angrily. How dare this damned hell-construct speak to her in that manner? Rage fills her, stoked by her love for the true third price, the one who'd asked for her hand so gallantly after her head injury.
"Forget it, I've changed my mind. You are vile, filthy hell-spawn, unworthy of bearing his name," she hisses. "I'm not so simple a woman as to be fooled by your pretensions. I just thought, for a moment, I could pretend- but you disgust me too much even for that."
She storms away, prickling with an odd mix of anger and satisfaction, and when she looks back, the phantom-Jeord has stopped in its tracks, and is staring at her with a strange... interest? She meets its gaze, and it curves its stolen mouth up into a smile. "Oh, how disgusting," she mutters to herself.
By mid-morning, she is bored again. Idle hands truly are the devil's workshop- in the scant few hours that have passed between her confrontation with Jeord and now, she has cut her hair into an interesting set of spikes, snuck into the professors' laboratory and mixed several dangerous-looking liquids together, and is currently trying to fold ripped-out textbook pages into birds outside the library. Unexpectedly, the Maria-Campbell-phantom accosts her there.
"You keep moving," it says accusingly, using Maria's honeyed voice. "And what in God's name happened to your hair?"
"I cut it," says Katarina. "Do you fold the wings into triangles or rectangles?"
"You keep moving," it says.
"I thought I could escape," she replies honestly. "But I keep waking up here." Katarina sighs as her tenth attempt at the bird falls apart. "Are you going to help me or not, hellspawn?"
The construct sits down across from her and tears a new page from the book, folding it quickly and efficiently into a bird. "Triangles," it says. "But do it after the body."
"What happens if I try to kill myself?" she asks curiously, after they've folded nearly forty birds. The construct is much quicker and neater than she is, and a good chunk of the book has been sacrificed to its expert folds.
When she asks the question, it chokes, emitting a squeak of surprise. "What?"
She frowns. "You can't tell me, you don't know, or you don't want to tell me?"
"I don't know, but my prediction is that you'll simply wake up in your room again," it says, wearing Maria's familiar look of helplessness. Katarina had seen that face many times, every time she and her followers pushed the light mage around. She found it pathetic, and watching the construct wear it only stoked her anger.
"If you must borrow Maria's face, at least use the better expressions," she continues. "I hate the helpless one, it gets on my nerves like nothing else. She's a powerful light mage, it's just too disingenuous."
"I see," it mutters, eyeing her oddly, and gets up to leave.
"Wait-" she says. "Do you have an actual name?"
"Maria," it says, looking at her even more oddly.
"No, I meant your demon name."
The construct rolls its eyes and walks away. Katarina can't help but feel a little insulted- she thought it'd been a nice morning, folding birds out in the sun. But now that she's rested, she can't wait to cause even more chaos. Lunch is chicken milanese and the plum pudding scuffle again, but this time she raises her earth bump right in between the scuffling siblings, tripping both of them, and reaches over their heads to take the pudding for herself. Smirking, she flounces over to her usual table and spends a lovely hour with the Sienna- and Mirabelle-phantoms. The Maria-phantom is there, too, watching her creepily from the other side of the room. Perhaps that is meant to be her punishment.
After lunch, she thinks she might try to face Keith again. Armed with the knowledge that it wouldn't truly be Keith, just a Keith-phantom, she decides to face her fears. After all, if she is to remain here for eternity, she cannot continue to avoid it. She accosts it after classes, behind the library, whacking it angrily with a stick. "Bloody- blasted- Keith- it's all your fault-"
When the stick is torn from her hands and vines tie her arms to her sides, Katarina is stunned. "Come on," she whines, staring at the sky. "That's not fair! You can't give the fake Keith real Keith's powers!"
"Why are you hitting me?" asks the construct. "What in blazes are you doing?"
"I'm hitting you," yells Katarina, "because I can't hit the real Keith, okay? The real Keith is the reason I'm stuck here in hell, because he murdered me with his stupidly powerful earth magic after he ruined my mother's life by reminding her every day that my father had an affair- so that's why I'm hitting you, phantom-Keith."
"I didn't murder you, Katarina, what are you saying?" asks phantom-Keith. "And why do you keep calling me fake Keith and phantom Keith?"
"The only reason I'm here is because you murdered me," hisses Katarina. "Don't ask stupid questions."
"...all right," it replies. "Maybe you need to see a-"
"Don't you dare say doctor."
"Okay."
They stand there for a minute, at an impasse. "I want to let you go, so I can leave, but I don't want you to attack me," the construct says, eventually.
"Fine, I won't attack you."
"I'm not sure if I believe that, but I don't plan to stand here all day, so..."
Katarina feels the vines begin to retreat, and rubs her arms to remove their marks. She turns to walk away, but the construct speaks again.
"Just one thing- we aren't half-siblings, we're cousins. I'm Viscount Coleman's son. So any conflict in the Claes family is more your parents' fault than mine." It scowls, as if its words are meant to wound her, but Katarina is too surprised to care.
"Is that true?" she asks. "I mean, in the real world, in real-Keith's mind? Or is that just something you came up with?"
The construct paints Keith's delicate features with exhaustion. "This is the real world, Katarina. Loath as I am to involve myself in your affairs, I will write to Duchess Claes about this. I wouldn't wish insanity on anyone, not even you."
The situation reminds her strongly of her conversation with Nicol. "So you don't think I'm playing a prank?"
"No," it replied. "Are you? I thought so, for a moment- but, your hair. That's permanent."
"I'm not," she says. "Nicol thought I was, but-"
"-just go to your rooms, Katarina."
She ignores him, making for the gardens. She just wants to lie by the roses awhile and remember her mother. She briefly considers trying to visit the Miri-phantom, but concludes it would do her more harm than good. Perhaps in the future, once her heart healed a little more.
Lost in memories of her mother, Katarina is taken entirely by surprise when a crowd gathers around her and a voice begins to read out charges leveled against her for criminally bullying the commoner Maria Campbell. Horrified and convinced she's about to be executed, Katarina attempts to earth-bump her way out of the crowd and run, but they corral her easily and she's forced to listen to the prosecutor's entire litany. At the end of the recitation, they sentence her to exile- she will never be able to enter Sorcier for any reason for the rest of her life (which doesn't matter, since it is over). A royal guard leads her to her room, where she's forced to pack, yet again, except the guard won't allow her any of her possessions with the Claes coat of arms on them. Anne is sobbing in a corner, and Katarina gives her a hug before the guard escorts her out.
"I'm sorry, Anne," she says. "Don't worry, I'll be back tomorrow." It is still difficult for her to be certain of this, but at this point, it is more likely than not. Phantom-Anne simply looks confused, and then resumes sobbing. The guard at least looks guilty.
"Sorry, Lady Claes," he says. "Your maid wants to join you, but the terms of exile forbid it." Her heart breaks in two, even with the knowledge that this Anne is just hellspawn, and the guard helps her into a carriage. They travel for a long time, stopping for dinner at an inn. Katarina tries to pay her share, but the man stops her and leaves enough money for them both. "Don't waste your gold," he says. "You'll need it."
"Are we to stop here for the night?"
"I'm afraid not," he says. "I'm to drop you off past the border by sundown."
The gravity of the situation hits her, then, and fear fills her. What if she didn't wake up in her dormitory tomorrow, what if she was forced to eke out an interminable existence away from the only people she'd ever loved? Tears prick at her eyes, and the guard looks away.
"For what it's worth, I don't think it's right," he mutters. "Not to say that what you did to Miss Campbell was fair either, but anyone could recognize her amorous overtures towards the third prince."
"You- you really think so?" asks Katarina, sniffling. "I was so angry, because she'd been flirting with Jeord, and because she wanted to marry Keith and have the Claes wealth for herself-"
The guard's expression is a discordant blend of sympathy and disgust. "By the lord," he says. "You're so young."
Later that night, he drops her off near a lake by the last rays of sunset, giving her flint from his personal belongings. "Be careful," he says. "The woods are dangerous at night. I suggest you start a fire- it will keep most of the animals away. In the morning, head west. There's a small village there where you can look for work."
She nods. "Fire, head west, find work."
He dithers, concerned. "Don't tell anyone you were Sorcier nobility, or your true name, else they may try to rob you- don't flash your coin about- what else... be especially careful of men, my lady- some of them may want to... to use your body, by force if necessary. Do you have any weapons?"
Katarina nods, touched. "My earth bump-" she demonstrates- "and my knife." It's the little letter opener.
"Just one minute," says the guard. "Let's pry those jewels out of the hilt so that you can sell them. Don't use the earth bump unless absolutely necessary- any magic will reveal your hand."
Once he hands the knife back to her, Katarina throws her arms around him. "Thank you," she says, "for helping me, even when you have nothing to gain from it. Thank you."
"It's my pleasure, Lady Claes," he replies formally, detaching her arms and mounting his horse. "Will you be okay, truly?"
"I cannot answer that in any meaningful sense," she says, slicing her hair short with the tiny blade. "But I will certainly try." Something in her expression calms the guard, who simply nods and bids her good night before riding off.
Following his instructions, she sets the fire (it takes her a few hours, as she's never used flint before) and sits back against a tree. She's afraid of sleeping in the woods, unguarded, and wants to solve the mystery of her returning to Hell Academy every morning, so she stays awake as the moon rises higher and higher in the sky, watching the flickering form of the flames. There was something truly beautiful about the quick way fire could dance, leap from point to point without any consideration for natural law. She'd seen Jeord's fire, once- he didn't like to display it in public, but she'd walked in on one of his private training sessions on the palace grounds. He was training his control, then, and was holding an immense fire in midair above his head. A drop of sweat had fallen from his brow as he pushed more and more power into it, turning it yellow and then white without increasing its size. Katarina had hung back, caught between fear and awe- the sight was breathtaking.
She smiles, poking at her own fire. This is likely the closest she will be to Jeord ever again, but she can't do anything about that. At least this lovely flame is a far better approximation of him than the hellspawn wearing his face.
Tilting her head back, she considers the stars' magnificent tableau. She should have enjoyed them more, when she'd been alive- she could have asked Jeord on a midnight ride, raced him to the top of a hill-
Katarina's fantasy is interrupted abruptly, as between one blink and the next, she finds herself back in her rooms, in her usual pajamas, with her usual long hair. She lets out a short shriek in surprise, but quietens quickly as the sound cuts through the silence of the dorms. She blinks, stunned- she'd just been quite literally reset.