AN: I forgot to mention last time, if you want a visual of what Hasvik Keep looks like, look up GoT's Dragon Stone Keep. Do you all remember back in chapter 21 and 22 the Water mage that got killed and his crystal broken.

Anywho, I hope you all enjoy the story, don't forget to leave fruit tarts on your way out. Or wine. Maybe some cheese, and grapes. Mmmm . . .


Kristoff folded his arms over his chest, feeling the tension in the air. The camp was alive with activity; they were mere hours away from launch, from battle, and emotions were running high. Only moments ago, he had witnessed an intense argument between Anna, Admiral Naismith, and Captain Jogeir. The argument wasn't a surprise; in fact, it had only been a matter of time.

Anna didn't do well sitting on the sidelines, and was dead-set on going to Hasvik, to rescue her sister, to be a part of what was happening. The Admiral and Captain were equally dead-set on protecting her, on keeping her as far away from the fighting as they could. If something happened to Elsa, then Anna was all Arendelle had. Kristoff stayed out of it—it wasn't his business or his place. He was just a lowly ice harvester who had somehow gotten mixed up with people leagues above his station.

The disagreement went back and forth for a while, neither side willing to give any ground, until Captain Jogeir finally pulled an awkward play at emotional blackmail, and Anna reluctantly conceded. In that moment, it became curiously apparent to Kristoff that while the Admiral and the Captain had spent the last few years working closely with Elsa, attending regular meetings, and were familiar with her personality and habits. The same could not be said of their relationship with Anna. They didn't know her—not in the same way they knew their Queen. And why would they?

Any royal duties Anna had would have been given to her by the Queen, and until a few months ago, Elsa had been doing her best to limit her contact with everyone she could. That meant Anna wouldn't have attended any meetings with the advisors, and the only actual contact she would've had with them came from crossing paths in the halls of the castle, which Kristoff had no doubt happened occasionally.

He frowned. They might not know Anna that well, but he did. He waited until the two men walked away, leaving Anna alone. Her eyes fixed on the sailors loading items and preparing to depart, Kristoff joined her. He stood silently at her side for a few moments before asking, "Can I talk to you? Privately?"

Anna turned wide eyes toward him, then nodded slowly. They walked some distance away from the noise and activity until they found a quiet spot where no one would overhear them.

"What's wrong?" Anna asked.

Kristoff rubbed the back of his neck and sighed heavily. "Anna. . ." H tried to find the right words. "Look," he said finally, "things are going to get bad tonight. No matter how much firepower we have on our side, it's going to get violent, and messy. I just. . . I need you to be careful."

Anna huffed, throwing an arm toward the camp. "Well, seeing as I'm going to be here, tucked safely away . . ." She raised her eyebrows and folded her arms over her chest.

Kristoff narrowed his gaze at her. "Anna, I'm not one of your guards, and I'm not one of these soldiers. I watched you fight off wolves and climb the North Mountain just so you could 'talk to your sister'."

"I want to go," she admitted. "But Jogeir and Naismith won't let me."

Kristoff rolled his lips against his teeth, not sure he bought the story that Anna was going to stay behind at the encampment. "Do you remember when you twisted your ankle trying to climb a cliff? We thought Elsa was going to murder me for letting you get hurt."

"I remember."

"Do you know what Elsa said to me when I went to meet her?"

Anna shook her head. "She never said."

"I started apologizing to her for what had happened," Kristoff said. Already, Anna was listening with rapt attention. "She stopped me, saying that she was well aware of your nature. That no one actually lets you do anything. That once you decide on a course of action, nothing will stop you." He ducked his chin. "If you really plan on staying here in the camp where it is safe, that is great. Nothing would make me happier. But, Anna, can you honestly look me in the eye and tell me you aren't already forming a plan to get yourself onto one of those ships?"

Anna dropped her gaze to the ground, shifting uncomfortably. "I know what you're going to say—that I shouldn't go, that I will only get in the way but—"

"- but you feel you need to be there, I know. You wanna make things right. I wasn't going to try and stop you."

Anna's head snapped up, her eyes squinted.

"Elsa also told me you are all she has. Anna . . ." Kristoff stepped forward and took her small hands in his. "Outside of the rock trolls, I never had an actual family before I met you and your sister. You are also all I have, and I don't want to see anything happen to you. I know I'm not a soldier or a guard, And I'm not sure how good I'll be in a fight. But if you are going to sneak on a ship and go to Hasvik to protect your sister. . .well, I promised Elsa I would protect you. Let me do that. Just tell me what you need and promise not to leave me behind."


Few places made Alarik feel more comfortable, more at home, than the sea. Despite the underlying tension in their mission—that they were hours away from waging war on an isolated people to retrieve Arendelle's Queen—he felt calm. A chilly, salty spray crashed into the bow of the Snow Squall, peppering the boards around his feet with droplets. He could see the fog that surrounded Hasvik in the distance. As they drew closer, the ships would slow their speed to better navigate in the limited visibility.

The Gambit, a fitting name for the lead ship in this operation, was just ahead of them, leading the way through the fog along with a smaller sloop the Sirma had provided, and the Dagny in the formation's rear. The plan was for the sloop and the Gambit to approach the Keep from the southern side, while the Gambit fired on the wall and outer parts of the Keep and the Snow Squall and Dagny moved to the northern side to enter through the underground river. It would be a slow-moving operation, as there were a limited number of rowboats the ships could carry, but with focus on the south side of Hasvik, it should be enough. It had to be enough.

When they returned from Hasvik without the Queen, Alarik had known there would be a lengthy discussion over what to do next. But he hadn't expected Captain Jogeir to kick nearly everyone out of the tent. Glancing around at those permitted to stay, he knew that whatever they were discussing was sensitive. He was a soldier; he understood the term "need to know," but that didn't stop him from being curious or making guesses.

There were a few things he knew. That the Queen had ordered her sister to return to Arendelle, for the Admiral to stand down the Navy and await further orders. Instead, they were about to wage war with the Vindarr. They were defying direct orders from the Queen, but Alarik wasn't questioning the decision. He knew Anna wouldn't commit to such an act without good reason, and he agreed Markkus came off like a snake oil salesman. But defying orders, even for a good reason, meant there would be hell to pay once the dust settled. That, however, was a problem for those stationed above him to worry about, and something they could do when everyone was back safely in Arendelle.

Alarik looked over his shoulder to where the Admiral was talking with Captain Lisbet. Standing close by was Erik. It surprised him that the Admiral agreed to work with the Sirma, considering the role they had played in leading them to this point.

Alarik had listened as Erik delivered a speech to the Sirma soldiers. The man had done what he promised, disavowing Tyr's actions and crimes. The speech was genuine and sorrowful; he didn't order the soldiers to help Arendelle with the attack, he but asked for volunteers to help put right the wrongs Tyr committed. At first, the soldiers had looked unsure, so Erik went further, and explained the true origins of Elsa's powers. When he told his people that she had been born with them, rather than stealing or bargaining for them, nearly the entire Sirma force was suddenly willing to help wage war on the Vindarr, to rescue Arendelle's Queen.

The change in their demeanor had been so swift, it left Alarik feeling unbalanced. He knew the Sirma had a connection with the Landvættir, but they went from skeptical and unwilling to help, too ready to put their lives on the line solely based on the origins of the Queen's magic. He hadn't been able to shake the unsettled feeling and was eager to locate the Queen and put as much distance between her and the Sirma as possible. Maybe, once all this was over, he would ask Erik about it.

An icy nudge at the back of Alarik's leg pulled him from his thoughts, and he looked down to see Rune, the Queen's snow leopard. Kristoff was standing just a step behind her. Alarik reached down to pat the icy head, though he looked up at Kristoff. "I didn't expect to see you here."

Kristoff rubbed the back of his neck. "I wasn't going to come. I'm not a soldier, and the only combat experience I have is with wolves." After a moment, he added, "and one very large snow monster."

Alarik raised an eyebrow, but it was a question for another time. "What changed your mind?"

"I made a promise, and I plan to make good on it." The other man gestured over his shoulder to where the Admiral stood. "While you guys are fighting, I'm going to take Rune and use her to help locate Elsa . . . uh, Queen Elsa," he corrected with a wince.

Alarik wanted to go with him—locating the Queen was the top priority—but he had his own orders, and it made sense to send in a small team ahead of the main host. Kristoff and Rune would have an easier time slipping past the guards and soldiers, especially with many of them distracted by the attack happening on the southern side of the Keep.

Alarik gave the man a sharp nod, and Kristoff's gaze shifted, looking over his shoulder. He turned toward the front of the ship, seeing for himself the rapidly approaching curtain of fog. As the grey mist swallowed the Gambit, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm his nerves. Despite the impending battle, this was the most dangerous part. They were now sailing almost completely blind. If they hit a submerged rock or piece of detritus, they risked sinking an entire vessel and everyone onboard. With the thick fog, there would be little chance of rescue.

They sailed on through the fog; the ship slowing with each passing moment. Alarik could just barely make out the form of the Gambit ahead of them, who also appeared to be slowing considerably. He glanced over the side of the Squall at the water passing by, knowing they had to go slow, but also that the route was relatively straight. They were going much slower than they needed to and were still slowing further.

"Are we supposed to be going this slow?" Kristoff asked.

Alarik opened his mouth to answer, but saw a signal from the Gambit and heard a barked order from Lisbet to raise the mainsail. They were trying to catch the wind, to increase speed. That was when Alarik realized what was wrong.

There was no wind.

Not even a light breeze.

Of course, Alarik thought. If the Vindarr could control the weather enough to create such a thick fog, there would be nothing to stop them from controlling the wind, ensuring that if anyone attempted to sail through the fog, they wouldn't make it without the ability to row. Arendelle's warships had no oars.

"This is a problem," Alarik said as the ship slowed to a stop. The water below them was calm, not even a ripple to push them forward.

"How big a problem?"

"Like, we could be stranded here until the end of our days sort of problem." The sloop had oars, but it was too small to pull the rest of the ships. They had the rowboats, and could ferry everyone back to land, but that meant abandoning the ships, and their only chance at rescuing Elsa. If they tried to approach Hasvik in rowboats, they wouldn't make it very far.

No wonder Markkus had been willing to allow them to come to Hasvik, why he agreed to allow Alarik a tour of the Keep.

One sailor signaled back to the Gambit to hold fast for the moment and await further orders. The Admiral was discussing options with Captain Jogeir and Lisbet, but Alarik had spent enough time at sea to know that when the wind died, the only thing you could do was wait for it to pick up again. It was the reason they equipped smaller ships that sailed in areas prone to losing winds with oars.

Frustrated, Alarik dragged a hand down his face, when a small blue glow caught his attention, and he turned to see a soft blue light bouncing in the air just off the ship's bow. "Uh . . ." He leaned toward Kristoff. "You're seeing this as well, right?"

Eyes wide, Kristoff silently nodded.

The light bounced in the air, moving closer. Rune let out a deep rumble, pushing between the two men and putting her giant paws on the taffrail. She stretched her neck, sniffing at the light.

"Admiral," Alarik called over his shoulder, but didn't know what else to say.

"What in gods' name is that?" The Admiral asked, drawing closer.

"It's a Landvættir," Erik breathed.

"I thought you said no one has seen the Landvættir in centuries?" Alarik turned to the Sirma with a narrowed gaze.

"Not outside the ritual, but there are descriptions of them in journals." Erik shrugged. "It's that, or a vivid, shared hallucination."

"Let's say this is one of your Landvættir," Naismith said, not taking his eyes off the glowing light. "What does it want? Is it—friendly?"

"I don't know," Erik said, shaking his head. "They've never just . . . appeared. I don't know how to communicate with it, or if we even can."

A loud whine from Rune interrupted their conversation, and she placed her head against the railing to look up at the spirit. The light bounced around before settling on Rune's nose.

"Are they. . .can Rune—"

The spirit suddenly shot down into the seawater below them, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared, cutting Alarik's inquiry short

Rune dropped onto the deck, sitting calmly, almost like she was waiting for something. Before anyone could question what had just happened, the Snow Squall jerked under their feet as a wave shoved them forward. At the same time, the sky opened overhead, dumping a heavy rain onto the deck.

Alarik looked forward through the mist and saw the fog thinning out enough to offer a view of what lie ahead of them. He could see that the Gambit had begun to move, and if he looked back, he expected the Dagny was moving as well, at the same steady pace.

"I'm not sure what just happened," Naismith said. He looked down at Rune, who seemed as unbothered by the events as a large cat could. "But I'm also not going to question it. Not if it gets us to Hasvik."


Markkus stood in front of the roaring fire, his eyes studying the dancing flames before him. He couldn't help but think back on the last conversation between him and the Queen of Arendelle.

He knew something was wrong the moment she stepped into the room. Her shoulders were drawn in and her hands clasped in front of her, fingers clenched tightly. Everything about her screamed confusion and fear, but he was relieved to see there didn't seem to be distrust in her eyes. And that meant the blood clover was still doing its job.

She didn't waste any time cutting to the chase, asking about the letter from her sister.

Markkus silently cursed himself. He hadn't even realized that neither hers nor her sister's name had actually been in the letter. It was a rookie mistake. He sighed, knowing the best lies were steeped in truth. "I knew who you were from the start," he admitted, "and that you had a sister named Anna. I had questioned Tyr about you before we ever met."

Elsa shook her head and folded her arms around herself, her fingers twisting in the material of her top. She was defensive, protecting herself. He would have to lure her out.

"Why didn't tell me you knew who I was?" she asked. "Why pretend? And why did you keep the letter from me? Did you know the Sirma had stopped fighting almost immediately?"

Of course, he knew; their leader was in his dungeon, and their only actual weapon in his custody. The Sirma might be reckless, but they weren't stupid. Markkus gestured for her to sit at the table next to the fire, the same one they had shared several meals at. When she did so unquestioningly, he smiled. He hadn't lost her yet.

Markkus sat down across from the woman and poured a glass of water for each of them before speaking. "You had spent weeks being held by Tyr," he said, keeping his tone soft and slow, "who I know is as short-tempered as he is prone to violence. I knew you were scared. I wanted to give you the chance to talk to me, to open up on your own terms." He took a drink of water, watching as Elsa did the same. "If pretending to be Joan of nowhere important made you feel safer, then I saw no reason to take that away."

Elsa chewed on her lower lip, looking down at the glass. After a long moment, she nodded. "And the Sirma? You knew weeks ago that they had stopped fighting, yet pretended otherwise."

Markkus tapped a finger against the side of his glass. He didn't have a good answer for that, and wasn't sure he could come up with something on the spot that would be remotely convincing, so he didn't even try. They had doubled the dose of blood clover she was taking each morning, and it was clear she still trusted him, at least subconsciously. But that trust was now hanging by a thin thread, and the wrong lie, or the right truth, could break it completely.

He knew allowing the Princess to visit her sister was going to cause problems, but he had allowed it. Knowing if he denied the Princess's request, they would come in force to retrieve their Queen. He had wanted to wait a few more days before moving on to the next phase of his plan, but time was running out, and the next step was a delicate one. Luckily, the apothecary was already prepared.

He finished his water and stood , holding a hand out to her. "Let me show you something."

That had been three days ago. Markkus had known something went wrong when Elsa was taken back to her room. And when the apothecary hadn't reported it to him immediately, he had known it was something serious. But he didn't press the younger man, knowing he would come forward when he was ready. Markkus was a patient man and had waited a long time for someone like Elsa to come along. He could wait a day for a report.

It was just past nightfall when the apothecary finally let himself into the study. Markkus eyed him curiously, leaning back in his chair. "What happened?" He was patient, yes, but had little interest in beating around the bush.

The man sat heavily in the chair across from him, propping an elbow on the armrest and running a finger across his mouth. "She broke one of the cuffs," he said. "Three inches of solid ice, that hasn't even begun to melt, covers my workshop. I have frost burn from where my hands hit the ground, and the room is so cold you can't stand to be inside for more than a few minutes."

Markkus raised an eyebrow. "You didn't want her unconscious."

"And you don't want her a mindless thrall." The other man sighed heavily. "I needed her conscious so I could gauge her response to the spell and make sure it didn't become too much, as per your request."

"Well, judging by the now broken cuff, a feat I have never seen anyone accomplish, I'd say it became too much."

The apothecary shook his head. "The spell wasn't the problem," he said. "it was the pain it caused, that her resistance caused. If she stops fighting. . . she should be sedated right now. I thought it best to keep her so for the time being. We can increase the amount of blood clover she is receiving. It will lower her ability to fight."

"I don't want to give her too much," Markkus said, shaking his head. "The amount she is taking now will cause enough problems when she is eventually weaned off."

The apothecary tilted his head. "Then what do you want to do?"

Markkus debated his options, but before he had a chance to respond, a loud explosion sounded from outside. Immediately after, an impact shook the entire Keep.

He sighed. "Looks like we just ran out of time."

The apothecary looked past Markkus to the window behind him. "I wasn't able to complete the spell."

"The seeds have been planted. That will have to be enough. Besides . . . "Markkus thought about everything he'd learned of the young girl since she'd arrived at Hasvik, and the legends he'd heard over his long years. "I think I know what she is. But I need time to be sure." He stood. "Let her kingdom take her home. She can live in peace for a few years more, while those seeds take root. And eventually, when her magic grows too powerful for her to handle . . . she'll know who she can turn to."

"And the Vindarr?"

Markkus shrugged. "I have learned all I can from them." He opened a desk drawer and collected a few items as more cannon fire rocked the Keep walls. He pulled a crystal, glowing a soft yellow, from another drawer. A smile crossed his face.

The Apothecary raised an eyebrow. "What are you planning to do with that?"

"One last test for the Queen."


Elsa hovered in a warm grey fog, in a peaceful and blessedly dreamless sleep that could have lasted minutes, hours, or days. She was content to stay there in the comforting calm, with no one demanding her attention, no one asking her to fix any one of an infinite number of problems that they expected her to know the answer to.

Consciousness pulled at her slumbering mind, a thrill of warning that said she should wake up, but Elsa ignored it. She was so tired, just wanted to sleep, and allowed herself to sink deeper into the warmth. Then, a deafening explosion shattered her sanctuary.

Elsa's eyes snapped open, but she lay still, fighting through the cottony haze surrounding her mind, trying to discern what had woken her so abruptly. Another loud explosion reverberated through the air, the aftershocks shaking the walls of the Keep. Elsa sat up sharply, the world shifted nauseatingly as she turned toward her window. She squeezed her eyes shut and breathed harshly through her mouth as her vision took a moment to catch up with her movements.

When she blinked her eyes open everything looked foggy, hazy, like trying to view it through water. Elsa ignored the feeling and pulled her legs free from the blanket, stumbling to the window. She could see nothing but the rain beating against the window, and glimpses of the dark ocean rolling far below.

Another explosion, followed by another tremor.

Cannon fire, her sluggish mind finally supplied. But who was attacking? And why?

Elsa made it halfway across the room before she had to stop, wrapping her fingers around the bedpost to steady herself. She pressed her palm against her forehead as her vision continued to swim. It took another painfully long moment before the events of the previous day caught up with her. She remembered waking up in a lot of pain; she remembered Ray and their brief conversation, and then . . .

She sucked in a breath. They'd given her a sedative. It was why she felt dizzy, like someone had stuffed her head full of cotton. She hated drugs, hated the way they made her feel. If she never took anything ever again, it would be too soon.

Another eruption of cannon fire caused Elsa to raise her head and try to focus. She briefly considered staying in her room; if someone was attacking the Keep, it might be safer to stay where she was expected to be. But she didn't know who was attacking, or why , and staying put wasn't going to provide any answers.

She took a deep breath and rubbed her palm against her eyes, then forced her heavy limbs to move toward the door, surprised when the knob turned easily in her hand. The door was usually locked when she was in the room. For her protection, she'd been told, though she wasn't sure she believed them. Elsa pulled the door open, reacting with another jolt of surprise when she found the hallway empty. The guards normally stationed outside her door were gone, perhaps to help fend off the attackers.

Elsa followed the hall toward Markkus's office, keeping a hand on the wall to steady her wobbly movements. Each thunder of cannon fire worked to clear her head a bit more. She walked for some time; too much time. She was sure she'd been going the right way, but found herself on the outskirts of the Keep. She'd gone the wrong direction. Elsa cursed under her breath, blaming the drug that was messing with her head.

She looked around, hoping to spot something familiar to help her orient her position in the Keep, but hadn't been allowed to roam the structure freely. She recognized nothing around her; she was going to have to retrace her steps and try again.

The next round of cannon fire sounded frighting close, and Elsa jumped. She turned to a nearby window and saw the telltale spark of fire as another explosion tore into the Keep. Elsa quickly moved away, eager to put distance between her and where the cannons were firing Before she could take more than a few steps, she spotted something hurtlingly toward her from the corner of her eye.

Elsa squeezed her eyes shut and threw her hands up, knowing it would do little to protect herself, to stop the projectile. A familiar burn lanced through her left arm, followed by a loud crunch. When she felt no accompanying pain, she cracked her eyes open, shocked to find a cracked wall of ice in the hallway in front of her.

She looked down at her hands. The cuff on her left wrist still glowed light blue, but the one around her right wrist was dark, a large crack running through the center. The cuff had broken.

But how? When?

Elsa didn't have time to think any further on the strange circumstances. A sizeable piece of the corridor floor was ripped up and thrown at her. She gasped and threw her hands up again, this time reenforcing the wall. She winced as the large stone slammed against her ice. When she lowered her hands, bringing the wall down with them, a figure was standing in the hallway, a yellow crystal clenched in his fist.

"Tyr?" It took a moment for Elsa's foggy mind to catch up with what was going on, with what must have happened while she was sleeping, while cannon fire was exploding against the walls of the Keep. Tyr had gotten out of the dungeon. And gotten his hands on one of the Vindarr crystals.

He had magic.

"Your Majesty," Tyr said, bending in an exaggerated bow. "How fortuitous. I was hoping to see you again."

Elsa rolled her fingers into a tight fist, knowing there was no way Tyr was going to let her go. For whatever reason, the man seemed to loathe everything she was. If it came to it, the only way out was going to be to fight. Her gaze dropped to the crystal in his hand. "Where did you get that?" She winced as her voice came out in a painful croak.

A smirk crossed the large man's face. "Markkus gave it to me," he said, lifting the item in question. "He let me go, too, on the condition that I use it to kill you first."

Elsa's eyes widened. "What?" She had to have misheard him. Regardless of what lies Markkus had told her, he had never once hurt her. Elsa shook her head. "You're lying. How did you get out of the dungeon?"

Tyr's smirk grew. "I told you not to trust him."

Elsa clenched her teeth. Tyr was lying, just trying to unsettle her and take her by surprise. She didn't honestly know whether she still trusted Markkus; her instinct told her not to, but there was no denying the pull she felt to him. Regardless, she couldn't believe the older man would just release Tyr, hand him magic, and tell him to kill her. Nothing about it made sense.

Without warning, Tyr threw one arm back, ripping a chunk of stone from the wall and hurling it at her. Elsa dove out of the way, hitting the ground painfully against her shoulder and hip before rolling. Her vision swam as she pushed back to her feet, knowing the worst place for her to be right now was the floor. The stones beneath her feet shook as another rock came her way. She threw up both hands, forming an ice shield. The rock crashed into the shield, slamming her back into the wall.

Elsa twisted her hands, turning the cracked shield into a long ice spear and sending it Tyr's direction. He responded with another lifted chunk of rock, and the elements crashed into each other in an explosion of ice and stone, littering the floor with shattered fragments of both.

They repeated their attacks, meeting each other blow for blow. It was a stalemate, neither coming out on top—yet. Elsa knew she wouldn't be able to keep it up much longer; the more magic she created, the more the cuff drained and the quicker she tired. Whatever sedative they had given her was still in her system, slowing her reactions, her thinking. The only advantage she had was that Tyr was clearly inexperienced with his newfound power, still trying to figure out how the magic worked. Elsa had lived with her power her entire life.

"I can't believe I ever thought that you were the weapon I needed to win a war," Tyr spat, stalking toward her.

Jaw clenched, her back pressed against the wall for support, Elsa thought about creating a snow monster. Even if she had the energy to do it, she couldn't concentrate long enough to create something so complicated. Instead, she slammed her foot onto the ground and sent ice shooting out in all directions, covering the floor.

"Is that the best you have?" Tyr scoffed. "An ice rink?"

Ignoring the taunt, Elsa twisted her hand upward, and spikes shot up from the slick ground. Tyr jumped back, but not before one of the ice spikes ripped into the side of his leg. The cut wasn't deep, but she took some satisfaction in knowing that it must hurt like hell.

Tyr snarled and made a fist, pulling the stone fragments from the floor up into an enormous chunk of jagged rock. When the rock sped toward her, Elsa reacted by throwing up the thickest ice wall she could manage, but instead of hitting the wall, the rock divided at the last moment and slammed to the ground on either side of her.

She only had a moment to question the action before the ground beneath her feet and the wall at her back disappeared.