Christina had expected to die, either from inhaling the gas, or from being killed once she fell unconscious.

She had seen it as inevitable, almost.

So when she opened her eyes she experienced the greatest relief of her life, even before the memories of the last few minutes, at least of her last conscious minutes, came rushing back to her like a shower of debris.

However, the relief was short-lived.

Precisely because of the debris that was her memories. She was alive, so were those around her.

Some had awakened before her and were already on their feet. Others were in the process of getting up, like her. And some were still unconscious. Amy and Jacob.

This should mean that, with her help, Desmond had managed to defeat the assassin sent by the Empire.

After all, even Jacob, who was a priority target, not someone replaceable, was alive. Despite the fact that he was the leader, that, moreover, she had watched as the leader of the assault tried to execute him, not capture him, in front of her eyes.

But there was no trace of either the assassin or Desmond. Not the slightest trace.

He had lost and...

Christina tried to stand up, one of the teachers helped her, thanked her, murmuring. With her head and heart elsewhere.

He had lost and she had taken him away. For some reason she had taken him away.

No, that wasn't the important thing.

"How long?" she asked, her voice hoarse.

"We're out of danger. You don't have to..."

"How long have I been unconscious?" he shouted, out of his mind at the misunderstanding, that this idiot had wasted more time than she already lost. Saliva flew out of her mouth as she screamed.

The teacher took a step back.

"Eh, about half an hour."

Her heart dropped to her feet. Half an hour, no more, no less. Half an hour.

Christina fell on her knees.

If she had had any chance to reach the assassin and save Desmond, it had slipped through her fingers while she was unconscious. Now, really, there was no hope. Surely she was gone by now, but....

"Hey, are you okay?

Christina clenched her fists.

She put one fist on the floor. And with the other she punched the ground, again and again.

Again and again and again.

She wasn't the kind of person who was used to externalizing her worst feelings. The anger, the pain, the sadness. For her, at least, expelling them only gave light to more of whatever emotion was tormenting her.

Creating a vicious cycle from which there was no escape. However, today, at this moment, she couldn't hold back.

She felt that, if she didn't expel at least a small part of the torrent of emotions that roared and churned inside her, she would end up torn apart by the torrent.

Her teeth chattered.

Christina eyes glistened with tears.

She... she had tried, she really had. For that at least she couldn't blame herself. Seeing that Desmond was resisting the effects of the gas that had left the others on the ground, she had resorted to physical reinforcement magic, taking it beyond what was safe and recommended, mimicking Desmond.

Not caring what might happen to her in the process, as she had no practice with that extreme of the magic.

Christina had wanted to control her own destiny.

She had wanted to save everyone. But most of all she had wanted to help Desmond, who had been fighting bravely alone. As the boy had been fighting all his life.

Christina could sympathize with that.

But she had failed.

She hadn't been strong enough. If she had managed to stand up, as Desmond had, between the two of them maybe they could have taken her. Maybe.

She had said she couldn't blame herself for that, but of course she could, who else could she blame?

As inexperienced as she was in using physical reinforcement magic at that level as any sane mage, as unreasonable as it was to ask herself to get to the same level as Desmond who had been practicing with such magic, his greatest weapon, for years, she had failed.

There was no other way to put it.

The details didn't matter, only the end result. Bitter and harsh as it was, that was the truth.

Desmond had to be alive.

After all, why else had she bothered to take him with her? Still, that didn't change the fact that he was out of her reach. And, once he was no longer useful, they would get rid of him, and there was nothing she could do about it.

She imagined what the next few weeks would be like. Months, or days, it could be.

Waiting with this anxiety nesting in her chest, unable to think of anything, hoping for the best and fearing the worst...only to one day have to learn that they had found Desmond's mangled corpse.

And that that wasn't enough, to push herself to see it, to check it out with her own eyes.

A memory she would never forget.

That would stay with her forever, whether she was awake or asleep. Or perhaps the worst thing would be that, one day, with the passing of time, she would forget it.

As if it had never had any importance whatsoever.

This strange bond that could be mostly the fault of his magic that changed and twisted her.

And everything they had shared together.

And this failure.

The blood on her hands.

The roar she emitted from the back of her throat was a scream she refused to let out of her cage, prolonged, choked.

The tears did come. They slid down her cheeks, leaving wet trails. But they were not cold. They burned.

What burns is the pain inside.

"Calm down. Please..."

The same woman again. Calm down? Was she out of her mind?

Did she have no idea what had happened?

Sure, because you're fine and you can go back to your normal life without any problems, everything's great, who cares about the rest, fuck it all, right? But I... Me, fuck! I can't do it.

She felt like putting her hands around her neck. Just looking at her, seeing the stupid way she was looking at her....

These were ugly feelings, crazy even, but they were hers alone. And that was somehow reaffirming.

That was what she felt underneath everything else: that it was affirming. A relief.

Christina turned and walked toward the train tracks. The starting point.

"Where are you going?"

She stopped abruptly. But not because of the teacher's demands, but because she saw that Amy was waking up.

She had almost forgotten about her. No, she had really forgotten about her.

She reached down and grabbed his arm, pulling her up.

"What happened?" Amy asked with narrowed eyes. Still not quite back in the real world.

"I'll tell you what's going to happen. We're going to save him. On your feet."

Christina helped her up. As she said, Amy wasn't quite here yet. As a result she was unsteady and she had to let Amy lean on her.

"Save him? "She looked around. "Desmond isn't here. But what happened? I don't... My head is all messed up and I didn't see anything."

"Desmond was right. The traitor was..."

"Avery."

"Yes, and she threw some vials on the floor, causing them to explode, releasing a green gas that knocked us all unconscious almost immediately. Except for Desmond, who was able to resist and did his best to fight her off. I stayed awake too. For a while. I tried to help him, but..."

She swallowed.

"But my efforts were useless, and now? She's taken him away. We have to do something."

"You don't have to convince me. I'll do whatever it takes. Let me just... I think I can do it now."

She left her, and Amy was proved right, the girl had recovered enough to walk on her own.

Someone put a hand on her shoulder. Christina turned around, pushing the hand away abruptly, her heart pounding, as if it was Avery who had come back to finish the job.

But, of course, it wasn't. The woman in front of her was... She knew her name, of course.

She was a teacher, but right now she was nothing more than an obstacle.

"Listen. I know you've had a terrible few days. That this is the least any of us needed. But you need to calm down... and sit down. Adults exist to fight the battles of children."

She gritted her teeth. The children? So she was a child. Adult enough to kill, for anything, except when it didn't suit them.

"That's how it should be at least, in a just world. A world very different from ours. But now, at least... calm down and let the police handle this. You know it's for the best."

Christina lowered her head.

Silence fell. It was true, at least, that this was a rational decision that most people would make if they were in her place.

And that no one would blame her for that. For stepping aside and letting the professionals do their job.

Desmond might die before said professionals even started looking for him, but it was still true. No one would blame her, no. Not the teacher. Not Amy. Not Desmond himself, even. She couldn't be sure because she didn't know him very well, but she thought so.

No one could blame her...

"Maybe for you." She raised her head, glaring at the teacher. "But not for me."

No one but herself. And she didn't want to live with that regret.

She turned her back on obstacles and desires other than her own, embracing the night.

"That bitch is in my domain. And it hasn't been that long. I'll catch her and kill her," she clenched her fists, "with my own hands! Even if I have to do it alone!"

These feelings, the anger and despair that ate her up inside, were hers and no one else's.

That was why it was worth taking any risk.