“Afraid of me,” she had muttered. “Everyone saw. All afraid of me now.”

She kicked the panel so hard that the wood cracked.

At the time, I was sitting in another cab, answering questions posed by a nurse from Public Health. The Herald was sweet-voiced and matronly, but all I could think was that she was Reverend Morwin’s subordinate. Reverend Morwin, who had tried to push Asan into the Haunt’s reach. Reverend Morwin, whose body followed us back to the city in a carriage shared with Lien, the curtains drawn over the windows.

I said as little as possible. It was clear that I wasn’t physically hurt. The nurse explained, calmly and quietly, that I was probably just in a state of shock. But with rest, plenty of water, a little food—she patted my knee in a reassuring way—I would be fine. There was nothing to fear now; the Haunts had been taken to the Edge.

The journey blurred in my mind. I was dropped off outside the dormitory and told not to discuss anything that had happened. The Sisterhood needed time to prepare an official response, and there was sure to be an inquiry process as well. If I did not feel any better by tomorrow, I should ask for assistance at the Sanatorium.

“Herald Hayder?” I managed to ask, before the carriage pulled away.

“She will be taken care of,” said the nurse. I took that to mean that she did not know if Rhyanon was even still alive.

And then I was alone.

The sun streaked the rooftops with orange. A small bird sat on the rafters of the building opposite and chirped. Was this all? After the violence and terror, did it just end like this, with me standing on my own in the cool morning air? I felt strangely outside of myself, not angry or scared, but confused, as if something had gone missing or been taken away from me.

I stood there for a long time, waiting without knowing what I was waiting for. When I grew cold, I turned around and went inside.

Sleep came easy. I laid my head down, and unconsciousness rose and swallowed me. Until then, I had not even realised how exhausted I felt. No dreams, no thoughts, not even the bustle of the daytime street could disturb me. I opened my eyes again and it was midafternoon.

I had fallen into bed without undressing, and the bloodstains splattered across my robes had faded to brown. My skin felt sticky. I sat up and rubbed my eyes. Outside my window, I could hear someone whistling, and the stamp of horses’ hooves on the flagstones. Ordinary, unremarkable sounds. I shivered.

What now?