The Nightscape

Escaping

Lyra came round slowly. Her senses seemed to come online one by one, letting her understand what was going on bit by bit. The first thing was the sense of touch. She was sprawled on the stone floor, cold and rough, and a part of her head throbbed as though it had been struck. She could feel something soft and moving under her neck and skull now though, someone's lap, as well as fingers brushing hair out of her face and gentle slaps to her cheek. Something deep in her gut, no, deep in her soul, felt like a tender, barely healed wound, but that strange sensation of something foreign within her was gone now. Instead, it was like a baby tooth had been pulled, something dangerous and painful and unstable gone, and an adult one had grown in i's place. Tender, not healed, maybe not fully stable yet, but promising to become so. The soreness radiated through every inch of her body, but it was the good kind. The kind you got after a long walk, not after a desperate sprint. 

And then she could taste blood, metallic and cloying and salty, and she felt her face twitch in disgust. Naturally, her tongue probed, trying to find a wound on her gums or cheeks or lips, but there was nothing. The taste was stronger at the back of her mouth though, which worried her. Next came her sense of smell, and she flinched at it. Because now the taste of blood was accompanied by the smell of it, and it only intensified. It was all she could smell, not even the scent of petrichor that usually permeated all the air of the Scapes could be smelt beneath it. 

"Lyra, can you hear me? Lyra, wake up, come on, wake up. Time to wake up, time to open your eyes. Come on now, up you get!" A familiar voice suddenly broke through. It wasn't Anya, as Lyra had initially assumed when she felt her head resting on someone's lap. No, it was Guy she could hear, tapping at her cheek with an urgency and panic his voice that did help rouse her. And then, finally, her eyes flickered open, darting around the room to assess the situation as quickly as she could. 

Anya had been brought to the ground in front of Zidros, who had his hands on either side of her head and his brow was furrowed in concentration. The twins were both trying to reach him, to pull him away or drag her away from his touch, but it wasn't working. There was something shimmering over the both of them that meant their hands slid right off. Even when Jason began beating him around the head with a piece of wood, it just got deflected every time it hit. Francine was at the window, clawing at the boards, desperately trying to tear them away as panic made her lose her mind. Ettie was at the door, slotting a small piece of wood into the gap and trying to pry it open, but three different tools were already broken at her feet. The air of panic was obvious and palpable, and Guy only seemed interested in waking her up for another pair of hands to help. 

"She's awake! She's alive! Lyra, up you get, you're all right, right? You aren't hurt, you aren't braindead or anything, your memories are still there, right?" He checked anxiously, letting her head drop and clock against the floor again as he scrambled to his feet. Lyra groaned as he leaned down, grabbed her wrists, and hauled her to her feet. She stumbled, her vision blurring and head swimming as she latched onto him, making him keep her steady until everything settled again. 

"She doesn't look fine to me, Guy! We'll take her with us when we go, but we have to leave now! Stop fussing and help!" Finn bellowed at him, still desperately trying to harm Zidros while Jason tried and failed to drag Anya away. 

"I'm- I'm okay." Lyra answered, standing on her own two feet and then promptly tuning the others out, because their current plan clearly wasn't working. Zidros's magic wasn't everywhere, and she took a few moments to discern where it was focused. The windows, the doors, on Anya and on himself. After that, she looked around the whole cavernous library, trying ti figure out a way to get out. 

Her eyes ended up flicking upwards, and an idea sparked in her head. Because the roof of this hut was a dry thatch, and the walls were only a little higher than a single bookcase. And the magic wasn't dancing there. Yes, maybe nothing could be done to save Anya now, but the other's still had a chance.