Elsa hit the water. Cold enveloped her and the current dragged her under. She released the shotgun in her panic. Elsa struggled against the pull. Her coat and boots dragged her down. Water clogged her nose and throat. She was drowning and this time there was no strong arm to pull her from danger.

She fought. Kicking hard, lungs straining, Elsa broke through to the surface. The light blinded her. The world was a shimmering mass of white and still she was drowning. Elsa groped for a lifeline and found nothing.

She was pulled beneath another swell, as helpless as a fine grain of sand. Elsa tumbled and somersaulted, lost in a rush of bubbles. The current carried her onward. It slammed her against rocks and punched the hard-won breath from her lungs. She had no clear idea of up or down and no way to tell if she was kicking towards air or diving further into the endless water.

The river grated her across a jagged stone, yet she somehow found the strength to grab the slick surface. Clinging, coughing, choking, she pulled herself upward. With her torso free, the water’s grip eased.

Elsa rolled on her back in a dripping, puddled mess and sucked in gulping breaths. Her ribs ached and the daylight burned. The glare drilled into her skull until she covered her face. Around her, the river crashed on and on, the churning waters battering her eardrums. Unfamiliar scents overwhelmed her.

She pushed herself into a sitting position and groaned at the fire burning along the left side of her ribcage. Agony filled each breath. Elsa hissed the air in and out between her teeth. When the sharp pain lessened, she took stock of her belongings.

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The current had torn the scarf from her head. Her backpack—with her maps, bedding, and food—was gone. She’d lost one shoe and her precious toolkit. Elsa felt at her waist. Her knife was still in its leather sheath. And her pocket watch…Elsa reached into the open neck of her coat and drew her hand along the dripping chain. It no longer ticked. Her fingers traced the casing and noted the crack in the glass. She placed the watch back beneath her sodden shirt.

Elsa covered her face with her fingers and peered through the gaps. She was sitting on a bank of dry, orange shingle. High dirt banks flanked her. Elsa stilled.

High dirt banks.

Elsa gritted her teeth and rose to unsteady feet. The glare had begun to fade, allowing the world around her to take shape. Along the edges of the high riverbanks, tall trees gathered like silent white witnesses to her arrival. Elsa drew another breath, this time from wonder instead of pain.

The trees…they were more beautiful than anything she’d ever imagined.

She looked above the canopy to a world stretching endlessly upward, terrifyingly outward. A bird flew across the sky, too quick for her cave-dull eyes to follow, but she heard it. Its long, crackling call rippled through the air, a sound without an echo.

The enormity of Elsa’s situation washed over her: she was on the surface.

A deep, uncontrollable cry of joy burst from her lips. The shout surged up the sides of the trench and evaporated into the vast sky.

She was free.

Elsa was half-drowned, injured and alone, and yet she was free, for the first time in her life.

A weight lifted from Elsa’s shoulders. She’d left the darkness behind. Here, on the surface, no one would care that she was Bad Seed. Here, there was no one to press their wants and desires on her and no one to fill her with guilt and shame. Whatever challenges the Chaos brought, her decisions were her own.

A new resolve built within Elsa. She would no longer let fear rule her life. She would find her uncle and she would take control of her destiny and her future.