“Hel…hel… help me…”  

At the doors, Rebecca stopped and stood completely still.  Had she heard someone, or was her imagination just playing tricks on her?  Uncertain, she held herself motionless, almost afraid to even breath, and strained her ears to listen.

Nothing.   Nothing.  For several long moments, she heard nothing but the wind gently blowing outside, stirring a few leaves lazily, and the occasional caw of a crow as they skipped from body to body nearby.  Just as she thought she had imagined the whole thing, she heard it once again, faint and raspy, “H… help me.”

“Puuuuhhhhh.”  Breath leaving her in one sudden burst, Rebecca stared wide-eyed as she saw the girl’s hand twitch feebly at the window.  Shoved through the window, impaled on the glass, and then crushed by countless students as they crawled over her, the girl was somehow still alive.  When Rebecca had first seen her, she’d assumed the girl was dead – she couldn’t imagine anyone living in her condition – and yet, her she was asking for help.

“Shhhhhiiiiiiiittttttt….”  Blinking, Rebecca stared wide-eyed, mouth agape, completely uncertain what to do.

For several long moments, she stared at the girl slumped half out the shattered window sill, letting the sight burn forever into her memories.  Short, cropped black hair dangled down barely long enough to cover the girl’s face, and dried streams of blood were crusted and black along the wall below the window, leading to a dark stain on the concrete entranceway that had blackened and dried.

Instincts screaming to simply run away again, Rebecca struggled with her own inner turmoil.  Trying to calm herself as much as possible, her mind blanked about what to do in a situation like this.  Trying to lift the girl up away from the window would probably kill her – she’d already lost so much blood, and presumably had glass from the broken window impaled in her guts.  The first thing she probably needed was a blood transfusion, injection, or whatever the hell they’re called – but there wasn’t any way Rebecca could do such a thing!

Calling 911 would be the normal thing to do in this situation, but Rebecca was certain that was completely worthless.  The sight of a half dozen bodies being picked at by the crows out across the parking lot told her that there wasn’t going to be any hope of rescue coming.  Besides, she was so certain that the phones didn’t work, she hadn’t even tried to find one or call anyone at all so far.  No need to waste her time on false hopes.

Keeping her voice at a loud whisper, she desperately called out, “Matthew?  Matthew?”  He’d claimed to have healing magic, and he’d also claimed to be watching over her.  Just because she didn’t see him, that didn’t mean he wasn’t there.  Right?  “This one’s alive.  You can help her!”  Glancing everywhere she could imagine that someone might be hiding nearby, Rebecca strained to find him but couldn’t.

“Asshole.”  Tears welling up and trickling unnoticed down her cheek, she had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that he wasn’t going to help.  Even back in the bathroom, he’d refused to give her the class book or help her, without first demanding a bargain of some sort from her.  She’d had to agree to be his companion, travel with him, and let him indulge all his teen fantasies with her body, before he’d actually helped her.  

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She had to be willing to offer something in order to get something, and what could this girl offer?  Mostly dead, probably with several broken bones – maybe even a broken neck or back from the way she was draped across the windowsill – with glass embedded in her guts and nearly bled out, with who knows what type of infection, disease, or rot growing in her gut from being stuck here with the gibberlings magic seeping over everything and decaying it to feed the foul forest…

“Heee… hep me,” the girl rasped weakly, causing even more tears to run down Rebecca’s face.  She couldn’t save her.  She didn’t think there was any way in hell Matthew was going to show up and save her – the girl was too weak and too far gone to make any deal and be expected to live up to it.  From what little she knew of him, Matt-hole wasn’t one to just do things for the sake of making the world a better place.  He wanted something back in return.

There was only one thing she thought she could do.  Only one possible course of action which Rebecca saw as being open to her.  With tears crusted on her face – she’d ran out of water to make any a while ago and hadn’t noticed – she slowly stared trying to trace the steps of one of the dances that had come to her unbidden when she became a spelldancer.

Slow and rhythmic, she swayed from one gentle step to another, trying to imitate the caress of a gentle breeze with her movements.  The strips of her dress flapped languishingly back and forth as the magic slowly gathered itself up around her and then spread outwards in a peaceful pattern of ever growing ripples.  The girls hand twitched a few times, then slowly opened and went slack, the only indication that the Dance of Soothing was working on her.

A gentle bob. A tranquil weave. A slow spin.  Continuing the magic, Rebecca gently danced her way a few steps past the door, and then she suddenly hopped in the air, instantly changed tempo, and brought the sword she was still holding down swift and sure against the back of the girl’s neck with enough forced to send her head rolling free and bouncing across the concrete entranceway to land thankfully face down in the grass at the side.

From the Dance of Soothing to the Dance of Striking, the transition had been smooth and fluid, a gift from the game that felt like it was something she’d performed thousands of times before; but nothing prepared her for the sudden weakness which buckled her knees and sprawled her on the ground when it was all over.  The sword fell from her hands unnoticed as the grip in her fingers faded as her mind blanked.

A person.  She’d killed a person.

Rebecca’s mind blanked white, as she sat and stared up at the blood that slowly seeped out if the corpse and trailed fresh down between the dried streams on the wall to puddle once more in front of the window.