She couldn’t explain why it was such a terrifying thought, either. It was just that...if Lexa was in the Underworld it meant that she was dead. It meant that she wasn’t in the Upperworld anymore. That her existence had ceased, and Persephone couldn’t stomach that.

When Lexa’s parents, Eliska and Adam, arrived, they were given more information on the status of her injuries. The doctor wore a white lab coat and kept his hands in his pockets as he spoke. He was older, his eyelid shielded his drooping eyes, his nose was wide, his lips thin and formed a permanent frown. He sounded tired, but it was just his voice, a low, raspy baritone.

“She has two broken legs and a broken elbow. Lacerations to her kidneys, bruised lungs, and blood on her brain.”

Hearing the trauma Lexa’s body had sustained brought Persephone to tears.

He continued, “She is in critical condition and in a coma. We have her on a ventilator.”

“What does critical condition mean?” Jaison asked.

“It means that her vitals are unstable and abnormal,” the doctor answered. “The next twenty-four to forty-eight hours will be very important for Lexa’s recovery.”

The words broke down Persephone’s hope.

Lexa’s parents were let in to see her first. Persephone, Sybil, and Jaison waited.

“She’ll fight. She’ll pull through,” Jaison said aloud as if he was trying to convince them and himself.

It was Eliska who returned to get them and show them to Lexa’s room. As they followed her, Persephone couldn’t stop staring. Lexa looked a lot like her mother. They had the same thick, black hair and blue eyes and sometimes the same expressions.

When Persephone entered, her gaze went straight to Lexa. It was hard to describe how she felt seeing her best friend under all that equipment. It was a little like having an out of body experience. Lexa was still as stone and barely visible under layers of tubes and cords running into her like the Threads of Fate. They bound her in place and right now, they bound her to life. A thick white cloth lay across her forehead, and a neck brace propped her chin up high. Her ventilator sounded like a constant exhale and the heart monitor pulsed a steady beat. These were things that even this room—made up with colorful walls, monochrome flooring, and modern touches—couldn’t disguise. This was a place where people came because they were sick or hurt or dying.

Persephone reached for Lexa’s hand. She was cold, and for some reason, that surprised her. She noted all the ways her best friend didn’t quite look like herself, her swollen face, her bruised skin, her colorless lips.

While they were gathered around her, a nurse entered the room, checking monitors, tubes, and entering information into a computer.