But me…I’m barely hanging on. I try to move, but white-hot pain detonates up my leg, stealing what little breath I have left.
Terror grips me. No one knows I’m here.
I’m suspended, teeth chattering, every muscle stiff, whimpering as my ankle throbs.
The minutes drag by in pure agony, but no one comes.
No one is coming.
Is this it?
My mind keeps skittering back to my guitar—the wood soaking through, swelling, warping. Ruined.
At some point, I start hearing music.
It’s Dad. I see him by the fireside, a silhouette against the flame, hunched over my guitar as he plays, waiting for me.
The room around him glows like the Mallandain Room—elegant walls, grand fireplace, soft armchairs.
I move to join him. It’s warm and safe, the heat of the fire rolling overme, pushing the cold away.
I smile hopefully, waiting for Dad to look up.
“Dad…” I whisper, my lips numb, face damp.
The vision shatters, the fire’s warmth ripping away.
I’m cold. I’m hurt. I want my mum. My dad. Ellenor. Anyone.
But I’m more alone than I’ve ever been.
Lightning flashes.
Black again.
Quiet sobs shake through me, my face burning while the rest of me freezes.
In the suffocating dark, I reach for the girl who once believed her music could save her—but she’s slipping, too weak to move.
All I can do is stay with her.
Try to stay awake.
And wait.
34
Dead Air
Brandon
Her scream tears through the speaker—raw, brief, cut off mid-breath.
The sound fractures into static, a burst of wind, and distortion.
Then nothing.
“Lily!” I shout. “Lily, can you hear me?”
