Her head twitched. Bones popped. She groaned. It was raspy. Painful.

None of that really mattered. She wasn’t in control. Not anymore. Probably not ever again. She tried not to think about that.

It didn’t work. She thought about it. Again.

Muscles twitched and Elara walked, feet dragging against the ground. Part of her - most of her, really - was hoping that she’d trip. It wouldn’t do much, and would really only be hurting herself, but it might be satisfying for a moment.

She was well aware of how spiteful that sounded. She was also well aware that she should try to enjoy the little things. They were all that kept her sane. Ish. So if Elara found a small bit of satisfaction at such useless, rebellious thoughts...well, she’d have to be forgiven for that.

Her boots scuffed and slid. She held her metaphorical breath. Her body recovered.

Disappointment. Maybe next time.

She walked on, causing the ever-present mist to swirl around her. Water vapor tickled at her cheek, and she took a moment to imagine that it was a tear. It was a little pathetic how exciting that would have been - such a small, meaningless, useless symbol of freedom.

It would have meant the world.

She kept walking, her plodding feet kicking up a cloud of spores in her wake.

Sometimes Elara wondered why her body did the things that it did. Why walk here? Why stop there? After weeks of wondering, she found it harder to care. The answer wouldn’t mean anything in the end.

Other times, her body’s purpose was more obvious. Those were the times that she really wanted to forget. She couldn’t - not when the reminders kept shambling past her, some still marked by the wounds they had taken as her body dragged them into the mists. They hadn’t been able to fight back, not very well at least.

Elara was far too strong for them to resist. No, her body was. Not her.

It was important to remember the difference.

Her body twitched again, pulled along as if on invisible strings. She saw one of the dead ones - the lucky ones - out of the corner of her eye, one of those things growing from his ruptured chest. It would be nice to be able to lay down like that.

Stop thinking about it.

Her body kept walking, ignoring the pain and fire that ran through her veins. It didn’t seem to feel things like she did, moving even when all she wanted to do was collapse. Just a broken puppet and her merciless strings.

A clank. Metal. Her neck jerked, twisting around abruptly. Her bones popped.

Elara heard it again.

Her body ran. The others ran with her, dashing through the swirling green. Her feet stamped and slid. Her legs burned.

Elara broke through the mist, her body breathing deeply of the clean air, clouds of green spilling from her mouth with each exhale.

She saw them. Seekers, armor and weapons glowing with power.

Not civilians, she realized with relief. Not helpless.

Her body dove forward, and her mouth opened in an involuntary snarl. She flew straight into the man in front. His shield came up. Her body hit it shoulder first; a stupid puppet meeting an immovable object.

Bones snapped; a jolt of pain lanced through her body. It ignored that, even if Elara couldn’t, and tried to spin around the obstacle. Another twitch and her open mouth closed, biting down on a gauntleted hand.

One of her teeth shattered against the glowing metal. It ignored that, too.

The shield came back and then forward again, smashing into Elara’s side and sending her skidding back into the mists. Others ran past her, puppets tugged by uncaring strings. Her own pulled her back up, ignoring the agony shooting through her shoulder and mouth.

Her body ran, breaking free of the mist again.

A woman this time, pulling back on a bowstring, a glowing arrow nocked and ready. The woman released, ducking away out of sight again in almost the same motion. A line of fire cut through her foot, piercing through the stone below her. The strings didn’t care.

They tugged her forward. Elara fell, the motion pulling her far enough to snap the shaft. Her body stood back up, leaving a puddle of blood behind.

Part of her hated the pain, wanted it to stop - wanted to scream. Another part of her - a more hopeful part - wanted it to stop, too. Just...permanently.

Her body dashed forward again, ignoring what should have been a crippling injury.

Kill me.

Another man, this one smaller than the other. He wielded his spear like a quarterstaff, reluctant to stab the puppets that crowded around him. A tiny puppet, smaller than the rest, climbed atop the others and leapt towards him. His reflexes were sharp, and his spear came up to meet it.

He pulled it back, eyes widening. It was like he thought they were actually people. Ridiculous. They were just puppets now. He was punished for that. The crowd bowled him over.

Elara’s body joined them. Her nails found flesh. She wanted to cry.

He would be a puppet too, now. It was only a matter of time. Her nails kept digging.

“Rowan!” a voice screamed. Something else shrieked, and Elara’s ears burst with pain. Her body swayed. The strings tugged, and it tried to pull itself back up again. It failed, and the soon-to-be puppet was pulled from the crowd by another Seeker.

She wanted to warn them about what he would become. She stood back up instead, still swaying. Her body found its balance and looked back up again.

There was another woman, a pair of glowing blades in her hands. She was standing beside the puppet-to-be, looking worried. She shouldn’t worry about him, not with the cuts on his face and the green-black veins that had already begun to spread. She should kill him.

She should kill me.

A tiny snake bit the man.

Oh, good. That’s good.

A tiny snake wearing glowing armor.

Elara tried to blink or rub at her eyes. She couldn’t. Either way, the snake was still there when she focused again. Just...chomping down on the Seeker’s face. He didn’t seem to care. The woman was scratching between the gaps in its armor, making cooing noises.

Elara’s body stumbled forward again. It must have been less confused than she was. The snake let go just before she tried to tackle the woman. The Seeker stepped to the side in a fluid motion, dodging an ungainly sweep of Elara’s infectious nails.

The snake hissed at her.

There was a blur, and then something smashed into her side. A rib snapped. Her body went tumbling, knocking over a pair of puppets.

“Sorry!” the woman apologized, bringing her leg back down. “Please don’t get up!”

The strings didn’t listen. They never did. Elara’s body pulled itself back up, still swaying.

“You know that won’t work, Valera,” the soon-to-be puppet sighed. “It never has before.”

The woman scratched at her head. “I just feel like I have to say it. Just in case, you know? I hate doing this.”

A tiny puppet stumbled forward on toddling legs, its arms outstretched, and the woman’s gaze softened. She caught its advance in her own, bringing the thing close to her chest where it scratched and clawed and bit and thrashed. Elara wanted to scream.

“It’ll be okay, sweetie,” the woman murmured, hugging the source of her inevitable doom. “Just go to sleep. You’ll be okay.”

The snake lashed out, sinking its fangs into the puppet.

The tiny thing fell limp, its strings finally cut, and the woman turned away to lay it against the ground behind her with a few soft whispers.

Elara wanted that.

Me too.

Her body stumbled forward.

Cut my strings too.

Her arm hung limp at her side, and her foot still dripped in blood.

Please.

Her mouth snapped out, closing on air. The Seeker leaned back.

Just let me sleep.

The tiny snake bit down. Her limbs began to slow, each tug of the strings doing less and less. Soon, she couldn’t feel her arms. Then, her legs.

Her body fell, a broken puppet, and her vision began to close.

Elara wished the strings would pull just one more time, just to let her smile in thanks.

When she woke up later, surprised to be surrounded by others and with a wondrous warmth pressed against her chest, Elara was able to do it herself.

It felt better than she could have imagined.