And Nyssa had been caught at the funeral.
She couldn’t shake the anvil on her chest. They poured all their anxiety into her and the still night air. The grief of losing their leader and blood. The heartbreak of not telling him goodbye.
Back and forth.
“I cannot help you. Get out,” Nyssa pleaded.
It had to end.
Somehow.
She would have to end this.
A new song— belonging to the Bygon, she realized— joined, and the rapture of the creature's sorrow finished shredding Nyssa's existence.
Blood trickled down her fingers from her scalp. She thought her heart would burst at any moment, and honestly, it would have been a welcome reprieve.
She just wanted them out.
Back and forth.
She wanted this over.
Done.
The creatures subdued.
Get out.
Back and forth.
Rage filled her insides. She was so exhausted, she didn't care how they left her. But she had to get them out.
Get out.
Out. Out. Out.
The song grew louder. The Ulfram appeared at the edge of the wood. It threw back its head with a great howl.
Go away! Go home! Get away from me! Stop—
But the Ulfram's howl grew louder. The Aviteth screech sounded the air—ear-splitting and vulgar.
Go away. Get out.
Get out.
Get out!
“GET OUT!”
—Silence.
A vibrating hum of nothingness paralyzed in Nyssa’s ringing ears.
Her eyes opened, chest continuing to heave, and she stared through swollen lids into the darkness.
The wood shuddered in silence. Not even the chirp of a cricket sounded in its abyss.
