Everything hurts.

"Ashwyn," A now-familiar voice says from just beside me as my eyelids flicker. I struggle to keep my eyes open long enough to focus on Kundu's. I see myself reflected in their scarlet depths. "Can you speak? How do you feel?"

"I...I feel..." I struggle with finding and forming the right words. "Like I've been tr-trampled by a dragon-boar."

They make a sympathetic face. "Do you remember what happened to you?"

I nod, swallow, take a deep breath. "I was struck by Umbral lightning. And E.J. was there and she...she transformed and attacked me." I shake my head, as if that'll clear away the thought. "I don't really understand what happened after that, though."

"Ashwyn, E.J.'s a Shifter. Storms trigger their transformation. The closer the lightning-strike, the quicker the affect."

I stare at them for a moment. "But she can heal. I thought only Crimsons could do that. And I thought experienced Shifters had control over themselves in their beastial forms." My breath catches in my throat as my heart rate suddenly speeds up.

They take a deep breath. "They do when they shift of their own accord, but less so when they're forced into it by a storm, and the closer they are to the lightning the harder it is. But she's not just a Shifter, she's a hybrid—a Crimson Shifter."

My jaw drops. "Hybrids are real?" I've never heard of one actually existing in real life. I've never even met someone who took the idea seriously.

"They're rare," they say. "Perhaps once every hundred years or so, one will come through. And those who do are even more secretive than the rest of us."

"But...but why would she attack me?"

"What happened at the end was because you're Stormstruck now. And lucky to be alive, by the way. Do you know how rare it is to survive an Umbra strike?"

I just stare at them. They clear their throat and continue. "Your body produces excessive amounts of Umbral power now, and it responds to your mental state. You can learn to contain and control it, over time...but what happened back there was a flare of energy triggered by your desire to defend yourself. Since it's the same kind of raw, agitated Umbral energy as the lightning, it forced her to change further."

"But...but that didn't happen until after E.J. attacked me. Why would she do that?"

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Kundu's expression twists with sympathy at the desperation in my voice.

"Shifters..." they hesitate, take a deep breath. "Well, they require human or Umbran flesh or blood to survive. Not a lot of it, mind you. Most, like the boss, acquire them through donations, and learn to control their cravings long before they leave their universities. But the scent of the Stormstricken drives them wild in beastial form."

I balk. "So...what does that mean for...for us? I can't be around her safely?"

They shake their head. "The cravings are only uncontrollable in her shifted forms, and even that in time she should be able to overcome. She's certain of it, at least, and the boss is always right." They give me a reassuring smile.

"So, that was her, the night of Hornsby's party?"

"Yes, though we still don't know how she got out of her storm enclosure that night."

"Is...is she alright?"

"Physically, yes," they assure me.

For a long time I just sit there, utterly dumbfounded.

Kundu stands from the chair they've pulled up beside my bed. "It seems you'll be alright physically, as well, if not entirely comfortable for some time. In any case, I'm afraid I have to leave you now, but I'll be back to ch—"

"Wait! You said that blood wasn't Beatrices? How do you know? Whose is it?"

The doctor stops on their way to the door, turning back to face me. "The boss brought in a Reaper, and they were able to use the blood to conjure up the bastard's face," they pause, scowling. "We don't know who it is yet, but she has a crawler scouring the Aether, and—"

I sit up. "They called up his face? Show me!"

Kundu pulls out their companion, tapping the screen for a few moments before turning it to me. It displays a picture of a piece of cloth—the one they mopped the blood up with. The Reaper's called the memory out of it, commanded it to reshape itself like flowing ink to depict the face of the person it belongs to. I gape down at the image, hands shaking where they clasp my blanket.

"Ashwyn?"

I put my hand out, pushing their companion back towards them. They pocket it. "What's wrong?"

"I know that face," I say, my eyes going from my clenched hands to Kundu's worried expression.

"What?" The doctor's eyes boggle. "Are you sure?

Where's E.J.? In her room?" I drag myself out of bed and try to push past him, but they move to block me.

"It's not a good idea for you to see her right now, Ash—" but I duck under their arm and out the door, stumbling out into the hall. I'm back in Stormhaven, but not in the same room as before. Sighing, Kundu follows me out.

"This way," they say, leading me down the hall, into the stairwell, and upward. We climb it all the way to the top, where we're met by a heavy oaken door reinforced by bands of iron. They knock on it, three times in quick succession. A slot opens up in the wall nearby, and one of Somi's bat-like bodies slips out.

"What is it?" E.J.'s voices buzzes from the servitor, growling and raspy as though she's just chain-smoked ten packs of cigarettes while getting over a terrible cold.

"Ashwyn is up, and she believes she's identified Beatrice's kidnapper. She wants to tell you herself, in person apparently. I told her you wouldn't wa-"

The door bangs open.

E.J. looms over us, breathing hard. She's almost entirely human again—but just off enough to send a shiver down my spine. Her face is gaunt and hollow, the angles of her bone structure still somehow predatory.

"Who?"

I swallow, my eyes caught in hers as their pupils narrow into slits.

"Zachary Pollux. One of my mother's personal assistants."