2

Chapter One

Panic

Sonea woke with a start. Her eyes flew open and stared at a white ceiling or possibly just into light, and her hands painfully gripped what seemed to be a bed sheet. Her whole body burned with pain, but more importantly, there was no air in her lungs. Gasping, she tried to catch her breath, desperately needing oxygen where there appeared to be none. Something heavy stopped her from inhaling, a weight on her chest that she couldn't explain. She was going to suffocate right on the spot.

And then there were hands, many hands, seizing her arms and pulling her upright, into a sitting position, hands on her back keeping her up, hands on her forehead and one on her chest, pulling at something until suddenly, the weight disappeared. Suddenly, there was cool, wonderful air that tasted of something familiar that she could not name but inexplicably calmed her and suddenly there was the horrible realisation that something was very wrong.

Something was missing and she did not know what it was, but it scared her even more than the discovery of being unable to breathe.

Before she could think further, a voice ordered "Everybody out!" and the hands left her body, except for two that gently lowered her back to the pillows she had apparently been lying on. Her vision was blurred, but Sonea thought to see a green shape above her, and then she blinked and the shape turned into a young man in green Healer's robes. He was not the one she had expected – had she not been with Dorrien? But when? The fight on the Pass! Hadn't she won that? Yes, definitely, Parika was dead and they were safe…

"Hello, Sonea. You've given us quite a fright."

She had no idea what he was talking about. His voice was soft, gentle, but unfamiliar, and it felt so difficult to listen and make out his words above the sound of panic in her head.

"Don't worry," he said, as if it were the easiest task in the world not to worry. "You're safe."

She did not feel safe. Pain throbbed through her body and made it hard to think, but even so she knew that whatever it was that seemed so horribly wrong was the reason that no matter what the Healer told her, she was not safe.

He held her head up and a cup with a warm, smooth liquid to her lips. She drank up although her throat was sore and swallowing hurt and she was eager for more but was disappointed. He lowered her head again, then he straightened the blankets with movements that betrayed a certain routine, and carefully opened her hands, which had been holding on to the sheets the whole time.

Over the blinding panic Sonea noticed tightly wound bandages around her left hand as the Healer moved it. His hands seemed cool against her burning skin.

"There, now," he said with a tone that did not seem to fit his age. Could he be any older than twenty-five? "Listen, I know you are hurting, and that you want nothing else but quiet and sleep. But I have to ask you a few questions, yes? First of all, can you speak? If not, just shake your head."

It cost more energy than it should, but she found that she could. She managed a "yes", which seemed enough for now.

"Very good!" he exclaimed, apparently delighted at her success. "That is very good. Now, can you tell me how strong you are right now? Magically, of course. You exhausted yourself very thoroughly, and I have to know how much you have regained. If it's not enough, I'll help you to sleep some more."

This was a far more difficult question, one she could not quite understand. When had she exhausted herself? The fight against Parika? But that had gone rather well, or not? Hard as she tried, she could not remember any further than the confrontation at the Pass, and even that was blurry and she was unsure if she could trust her memory if so much seemed to be wrong about it.

And to show him her strength required concentration she did not have right now. He was right, she wanted quiet, but she knew she could not sleep before she had found out what was so terrifyingly wrong, and that thought kept buzzing in her head, keeping any clear thought away.

She shook her head, faintly. She could hear her neck crack.

"It's fine, alright, we can do this later. For now we'll just let you sleep until you are a little stronger." He smiled faintly, then left without another word.

His absence revealed how quiet it really was. Sonea heard nothing but her own heartbeat and the same sentence running through her head over and over again: This isn't right.

She tried to assess the situation, check herself through to maybe find the cause for this throbbing pain and the reason for the bandage on her hand but of course failed. She did not have to fight for air anymore but inhaling hurt, and instinctively she had started to take only shallow breaths which left her slightly dizzy and even disorientated. And there was no way she would sleep.

So she lay for a while – minutes, hours? Who could tell? – unable to think or sleep, and that state felt just as horrible as the suffocating sensation she had had upon waking up. Finally, the light in the small room got dimmer, and a wave of exhaustion washed over her, mercifully allowing her to slowly slip away into a dream-like state that was at least very close to sleep.

It was only then, when it was too late to try and stay awake, that she realised what was wrong.

Akkarin was not there.