Elenor' s delicate features were a mask of innocent concern, her eyes wide and soft. She looked like a porcelain doll, fragile and sweet. But I saw the glint beneath, the predatory gleam of a cat playing with a mouse. She was a master of performance.

"Adah, dear," she began, her voice a soft purr. "I do hope we can be friends. Your uncle has told me so much about you." Her words were honeyed, but they coated my tongue with bile.

"I'm sure he has," I replied, my voice a flat line. "My uncle is quite the storyteller." I didn't bother with pleasantries. The fight had drained me, leaving behind a cold, calculating emptiness.

Jeffrey, ever the puppet master, stepped between us. "Now, now, girls. No need for tension. Elenor is a guest, Adah. Show some hospitality." His hand rested on Elenor's shoulder, a gesture of paternal affection I had rarely, if ever, received. It twisted something inside me.

"Of course," I said, my eyes still on Elenor. "Hospitality. I'm leaving soon anyway."

"Nonsense!" Jeffrey boomed, though his eyes darted nervously between us. "You're getting married, Adah! You'll be here for months."

"About that," Elenor chimed in, her voice still sickeningly sweet. "Jeffrey was just telling me your room is the sunniest. And with my heart condition, the doctor said I need plenty of natural light." She gestured vaguely towards the grand staircase. "So, I'll be moving into your room, Adah. I hope you don't mind."

My jaw clenched. My room. The one place in this house that still felt like mine, filled with my books, my sketches, my memories. The room where I had cried myself to sleep after Kristofer's dismissive farewells, the room where I had dreamed of a future that now lay in ruins.

"No," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I don't mind." The words were an ice pick to my own heart. "You can have it." I would not fight her for scraps. I would not give her the satisfaction.

Jeffrey looked relieved. "There, you see, Elenor? Adah is perfectly reasonable." He beamed, as if he had just brokered world peace.

I turned and walked away, not bothering to look back. My footsteps echoed on the marble floors, each one a hammer blow against my shattered illusions. I climbed the stairs, not to my room, but to the guest room on the opposite side of the house. I wouldn't spend another night under the same roof as her, not in a room she had claimed as her spoils.

I packed quickly, methodically. Not important things, just clothes, a few books, my laptop. The things that truly mattered-my self-respect, my broken heart-couldn't be packed away. My hands trembled as I folded a favorite sweater, the one I'd worn the first time Kristofer had called me Starlight. I tossed it aside. No sentimentality. Not anymore.

Jeffrey appeared in the doorway, his face a mixture of anger and confusion. "What are you doing, Adah? Where are you going?"

"I'm leaving," I stated, not looking at him. "You wanted me to agree to the marriage, Uncle. I did. Now I'm preparing for my new life. Away from here."

"But... you can't just leave!" he spluttered. "What will people say? It's highly improper! You're disgracing the family!"

I finally turned, my eyes burning into his. "Disgrace? You think this is about disgrace, Uncle? You want to talk about disgrace? What about your gambling debts? Your shady deals? The way you bled my parents' estate dry while pretending to be my benevolent guardian?"

His face went white. "Silence! You ungrateful child! I raised you! I gave you a home!"

"A home?" I scoffed. "You gave me four walls and a roof, Uncle. You never gave me a family. You always saw me as a burden, a means to an end. Well, congratulations. You've found your end."

I zipped my suitcase, the sound loud in the tense silence. "I'm leaving. And when I do, I will ensure every penny promised by the Shaffers goes directly into my account. And every asset you've squandered from my parents' estate? Consider it under new management."

Jeffrey looked like he wanted to argue, to threaten, but something in my eyes, something cold and hard, stopped him. He knew I was serious. He saw the fire that had replaced the naive girl he thought he controlled.

"Fine!" he roared, defeated. "Go! See if I care! But don't come crawling back when you realize you can't survive on your own!"

I didn't dignify that with a response. I dragged my suitcase down the stairs, past the opulent living room where Elenor still sat, now holding a delicately embroidered handkerchief to her nose. She looked up, her eyes wide and innocent, but the triumph in them was unmistakable. I met her gaze, a silent promise passing between us. This was far from over.

I hailed a cab outside the mansion, the cold night air a welcome embrace. Freedom. It tasted like ash and steel. I checked into the most luxurious hotel suite I could find, ignoring the price tag. I ordered champagne, the most expensive food on the menu, and then I went shopping. Online, of course. Designer clothes, exquisite jewelry, anything that caught my eye. The credit card, still linked to my parents' trust fund (before Jeffrey could fully drain it), flashed glorious approval.

Let them watch. Let them see me spend their money, my money. Every purchase was a middle finger to Kristofer, to Elenor, to my uncle. It was a release, a defiant roar in the face of my pain. I was bleeding money, but it felt good. It felt like power.

I sat amidst the new silk dresses and glittering jewels, a glass of champagne in my hand. My mind, usually a whirlwind of code and algorithms, was now meticulously crafting a different kind of strategy. Jeffrey thought he could sell me off? Kristofer thought he could discard me? Elenor thought she could waltz into my life and take everything? They were wrong.

I would take everything from them, brick by brick, penny by penny. Starting with Jeffrey. He would regret every moment he ever underestimated me. I had access to his financial records, his shady dealings. I knew his weaknesses. I would use them.

The next morning, Jeffrey called, his voice shaking with rage. "Adah! What do you think you're doing?! The bank just called! You've spent a fortune! Are you insane?!"

"Oh, Uncle?" I said, my voice sweet and unconcerned. "Just getting ready for my wedding. A Shaffer wedding isn't cheap, you know. I need to look the part. You wouldn't want me to embarrass the family, would you?"

"But... but the funds haven't been released yet! You're spending money we don't have!" he shrieked.

"Don't worry," I replied, a chilling smile on my face. "Once the Shaffers transfer the agreed-upon sum after the marriage, I'll pay you back. Every single penny. Plus interest, of course." The lie was easy, effortless.

He sputtered, speechless. I hung up, feeling a grim satisfaction. Let him stew. Let him panic. This was just the beginning of my revenge.

My phone buzzed again, a familiar name flashing on the screen. Kristofer. My heart gave an involuntary lurch, a traitorous beat of longing. I steeled myself.

Are you okay? I heard you left your uncle's. His message was short, to the point. No 'Starlight,' no endearment. Just a detached concern.

I typed a reply, my fingers steady: I'm fine. And yes, I left. I needed some space. I didn't elaborate. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing he had broken me.

A few hours later, I was back in my hotel suite, scrolling through news feeds, mentally drafting my next moves. My phone buzzed again. This time, it wasn't a message. It was an alert.

"Your credit card has been frozen due to unusual activity."

What? I tried another card, then another. All frozen. Jeffrey. He had done it. He had cut me off. The sudden realization hit me like a physical blow. I was stranded. No money. No home. Just a ridiculously expensive hotel suite I couldn't afford.

The hotel concierge called. "Ms. Burch, we regret to inform you that your payment method has been declined. We require immediate settlement of your outstanding bill."

My hands trembled as I tried to explain, to reason. It was no use. I was evicted, my luggage unceremoniously dumped in the lobby. I stood there, utterly alone, in the middle of a bustling city, with nowhere to go.

The night air was cold, biting. I found a park bench, the rough wood a stark contrast to the silken sheets of Kristofer's bed, the plush carpets of my uncle's mansion. I wrapped my arms around myself, shivering, more from emotional cold than physical. I was truly alone. Desperate.

A slurred voice startled me. "Hey there, pretty thing. What's a girl like you doing out here all alone?" A man, reeking of stale alcohol, stumbled towards me. His eyes were glazed, his smile predatory.

Fear, cold and sharp, pierced through my numbness. I clutched my bag tighter, my heart pounding. "Leave me alone," I said, my voice barely a whisper.

He laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "Aw, don't be like that, sweetheart. Just looking for a little company. I've got money." He took another step, his hand reaching for me.

My mind screamed. Panic seized me. Just as I was about to bolt, a shadow loomed over us.

"Is there a problem here?" A deep voice, familiar, cold, cut through the night.

The drunk man recoiled, squinting into the darkness. Kristofer. He stood there, a dark silhouette against the streetlights, his presence radiating an icy authority.

"Mind your own business, buddy," the drunk slurred, trying to sound tough.

Kristofer took another step, his eyes fixed on the man. "This is my business." His voice was low, lethal. The drunk, sensing the danger, mumbled an apology and stumbled away.

I stared at him, my savior, my betrayer. He looked down at me, his face unreadable in the dim light. "Why didn't you call me, Adah?" he asked, his voice softer now, but with an underlying current of frustration, almost anger. "Why are you always so stubborn?"

I didn't answer. What was there to say? My throat was tight, my eyes burning. He had come. He had saved me. And yet, the pain of his betrayal was still a fresh, throbbing wound.

Kristofer didn't wait for an answer. He simply reached out and pulled me to my feet, his touch firm, almost possessive. Before I could protest, he guided me to his car, a sleek black luxury vehicle that seemed out of place on the quiet park street. The city lights blurred as we drove, my mind a chaotic mess of gratitude and resentment.

I was safe. For now. But the safety felt like a new cage, one forged by his conflicted emotions. Why was he here? Why did he care, after everything? My heart ached, caught between the fragile solace of his presence and the raw wound of his deception.

We arrived at his sprawling mansion, the same house where we' d shared so many stolen moments. It felt different now, tainted. I followed him inside, my steps heavy.

"You can stay here," he said, his voice flat, gesturing towards the grand staircase. "Take any room you like."

I knew he meant the master suite, our room. But I couldn't. Not anymore. "The guest room will be fine," I replied, my voice steady, betraying none of the turmoil within. I chose a room on the opposite wing, as far as possible from his. I needed distance, even if it was just physical.

He watched me, his dark eyes unreadable. "As you wish," he finally said, a hint of something I couldn't decipher in his tone. "Just... don't disappear again." His words were a command, not a request. He still saw me as something to control.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. My focus was on leaving, on escaping this gilded prison. The arranged marriage, once a distant threat, now felt like a desperate lifeline. I clung to the thought, a fragile hope in the face of utter despair.

The next morning, breakfast was a silent affair. Kristofer sat at the head of the long dining table, engrossed in his tablet. I picked at my food, the taste of betrayal still bitter in my mouth. I couldn't ignore the questions burning in my mind. Elenor. I needed answers.

"Elenor," I said, breaking the silence. My voice sounded foreign, sharp. "Who is she, really?"

He looked up, his expression unreadable. "Elenor Reynolds," he stated, as if reciting from a file. "My childhood friend. She saved my life once."

My fork clattered against the plate. "Saved your life? What do you mean?"

He paused, a flicker of something in his eyes-a memory, a pain I couldn't comprehend. "Years ago. A terrible accident. She shielded me. Took the brunt of the impact." His voice was low, a rare vulnerability in his tone. "She's had a heart condition ever since. Fragile. Needs constant care."

My mind reeled. A savior. A fragile, ill woman. It painted a picture different from the cunning manipulator I' d glimpsed. But still, the heart emoji, his tender touches… "And your connection? Is it just… gratitude?" I asked, a desperate hope clinging to my words.

His jaw tightened. "She's family, Adah. She always has been. She needs me." His gaze sharpened. "I suggest you don't antagonize her."

The warning was clear. He was protecting her. Always her. "Antagonize her?" I scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping. "So, I' m the villain here? The one who needs to watch her step around your fragile hero?"

"She's been through a lot," he said, his voice firm. "More than you could possibly imagine. She needs peace, not drama."

My anger flared. "And what about me, Kristofer? What about what I've been through? What about the drama you' ve brought into my life?" My voice was rising, trembling with suppressed fury.

He slammed his hand on the table, making the cutlery jump. "Enough, Adah! Elenor is delicate. She relies on me. She relies on my protection. You, on the other hand, are strong. Resourceful. You can take care of yourself."

His words hit me like a physical blow. Strong. Resourceful. Capable of taking care of myself. He was justifying his neglect, his betrayal, by painting me as somehow less deserving of his care, his affection, because I wasn' t fragile.

I pushed away from the table, my appetite gone. "Right," I said, my voice dead. "Of course. The strong one. The one who doesn't need protection." I walked away, leaving him at the table, the image of his face, filled with concern for her, burning into my memory.

That night, I lay awake in the guest room, the vast emptiness around me mirroring the hollowness in my chest. I still craved him, his touch, his whispered 'Starlight.' My body ached for him, a physical longing that defied reason. But my heart, battered and bruised, finally recognized the truth. His 'love' was a lie, a calculated manipulation. His tenderness was reserved for Elenor.

He truly loved her. The thought was a dagger, twisting deep. He always had. I was just a temporary distraction, a convenient conquest. The realization was painful, but also strangely liberating. There was nothing left to fight for. Nothing left to hope for.

The next evening, Kristofer appeared at my door. "There's a party tonight," he said, his voice neutral. "You should come."

I stared at him, surprised. A party? After everything? "Why?"

He shrugged. "It's a company event. And you're staying here. It's expected."

Expected. Not wanted. Not because he wanted me by his side. But the thought of being alone in this house, haunted by ghosts of a love that never was, was unbearable. "Fine," I said, my voice flat. "I'll go."

The party was held in the grand ballroom of a downtown hotel, a lavish affair bursting with flashing lights, pounding music, and a sea of unfamiliar faces. The air buzzed with a strange mix of excitement and tension. Something felt off.

I trailed behind Kristofer, feeling like an outsider, a silent observer. Then I saw her. Elenor. She stood at the center of the room, looking breathtakingly beautiful in a shimmering gown, surrounded by a crowd of admirers. She spotted Kristofer, and her face lit up, a radiant smile that seemed too perfect.

"Kristofer, darling!" she exclaimed, rushing towards him, bypassing me completely. She threw her arms around his neck, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. He held her, his arm tightening around her waist.

My stomach churned. The intimacy, the public display, it was a blatant disregard for my presence.

Elenor finally pulled back, her gaze flicking to me, a flash of triumph in her innocent eyes. "Adah!" she chirped, feigning surprise. "How wonderful to see you here! Are you feeling better after your little... incident?" Her euphemism for my eviction and public humiliation was a subtle jab.

I forced a smile, cold and brittle. "Never better, Elenor. I hear you're quite the guest of honor tonight."

She giggled, a childish sound. "Oh, you! Always so kind." She turned to Kristofer, her hand resting delicately on his chest. "Kristofer, you didn't tell me Adah was coming. I hope she won't be too bored. This party is really just a small welcome for me, you know. I' ve been so ill, and everyone wanted to celebrate my recovery."

A small welcome. For her. The realization hit me like a cold wave. This wasn't a company event. This was her party. And I was Kristofer's plus-one, an unwelcome guest. My blood ran cold, a sickening feeling of being used, of being humiliated, washing over me.

I wanted to run, to disappear, to scream. But my feet were rooted to the spot. Elenor, sensing my distress, tightened her grip on Kristofer's arm. "Adah, you look a little pale. Are you sure you're alright?" She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a theatrical whisper. "I heard about your uncle... being so upset... and you leaving home. It must be so difficult, being practically disowned."

The words, though whispered, carried far in the relative lull of conversation around us. Heads turned. Whispers started. My face burned with shame and fury. She was doing this on purpose. She wanted to expose me, to revel in my downfall.

"I'm perfectly fine, Elenor," I said, my voice dangerously low. "And my family matters are hardly your concern."

Elenor's eyes welled up, a single tear tracing a path down her cheek. "Oh, Adah, you're so cruel! I was just trying to be sympathetic." She turned to Kristofer, her voice trembling. "Kristofer, she's so mean to me!"

Kristofer immediately wrapped his arm around Elenor, pulling her close. "Adah," he said, his voice a low warning. "That's enough." He stroked Elenor's hair, murmuring soft reassurances. He didn't even look at me. His entire focus was on her, his fragile Elenor.

The pain was a physical entity, a crushing weight in my chest. My heart, which I thought was already dead, found new ways to break. I stared at them, a perfect picture of intimacy, of shared affection. And I was the unwanted outsider, the villain in their perfect story. The bitter taste of my own tears mixed with the champagne on my lips. I grabbed a glass from a passing waiter, emptying it in one gulp. I needed to numb this, to erase this moment from my memory. But the burning in my chest only grew hotter. This was a nightmare, and I was trapped in it with no escape.

I watched Kristofer, his face a mask of tenderness as he soothed Elenor. He stroked her hair, whispered reassurances, his gaze filled with a concern I had once desperately craved. He never looked at me like that. Not once. Not even in our most intimate moments. His touch with me was always electric, passionate, but it lacked this soft, protective devotion. This was raw, unfiltered affection. And it was all for her.

A knot formed in my stomach. I realized, with a sickening clarity, that Kristofer had never been truly gentle with me. He was demanding, dominant, thrilling sometimes, but never tender. I was always the strong one, the one who could take it, the one who didn't need his softness. Elenor, with her feigned fragility, had mastered the art of drawing out the gentlest, most loving parts of him.

"Poor Elenor," I heard a woman whisper to her companion nearby. "Always so delicate. It's a miracle she survived that accident all those years ago. Kristofer never leaves her side."

"Yes," her friend chimed in. "He's devoted. I hear they're practically inseparable. He even moved her into his house when she was recovering."

My blood ran cold. His house. The house I was currently staying in. The irony was a bitter laugh in my throat. I wasn't a guest; I was a temporary inconvenience.

The party host, a flamboyant man with a booming voice, announced a game. "And now, for a little fun! Kristofer, our guest of honor, will choose between two options for each round, based purely on preference."

My heart pounded with a ridiculous, baseless hope. Maybe, just maybe, he would choose something for me. Something that showed he remembered my preferences.

The game began. First round: "Skiing or Beach vacation?" Elenor, ever so sweetly, expressed her love for the beach, citing her delicate constitution. Kristofer chose the beach. Of course.

Second round: "Classical music or Modern pop?" Elenor giggled about loving modern pop, how it made her feel alive. Kristofer chose modern pop.

Round after round, it was the same. Every choice, every preference, every subtle hint of Elenor's desires, Kristofer followed without hesitation. He never even glanced at me. He never considered what I might like. Because he didn't know. He never cared to ask. He never cared to remember.

He didn't know that I hated the beach, preferring the crisp air of the mountains. He didn't know that my solace was in complex classical symphonies, not the mindless beat of pop. He didn't know me at all. I was a blank slate to him, a temporary canvas he' d sketched a fleeting image on, then discarded.

The realization was a crushing weight. He had never seen me as a person, only a role. A temporary lover, a convenient distraction. My heart felt hollowed out, a raw, bleeding cavity. All the times I'd tried to share my passions, my dreams, he'd merely nodded, his eyes distant. I was a fool to ever think I meant anything more.

"And for the final round!" the host called out, his voice booming. "A choice between two photos. Kristofer, choose the one that resonates most with your heart!"

Two large screens descended, flashing images. On one, a breathtaking landscape, a vibrant sunset over a tranquil lake. On the other, a black and white portrait of Elenor, her gaze soft, ethereal, almost angelic.

The crowd murmured, their eyes flicking between the two images, then to Kristofer. My breath hitched. This was it. The ultimate choice. A part of me, the pathetic, hopeful part, still wished for a miracle. Maybe he would choose the landscape, something neutral, something that didn't overtly declare his allegiance.

Kristofer stared at the screens, his expression unreadable. He hesitated for a long moment, making my stomach churn with a sickening blend of hope and dread. My gaze was fixed on him, my entire being willing him to look at me, to acknowledge me, to remember me.

But he didn't. He slowly raised his hand, his finger pointing decisively at the black and white portrait. "Elenor," he said, his voice clear, unwavering. "Always Elenor."

The crowd erupted in applause. Elenor beamed, her eyes sparkling with tears of joy. She launched herself at Kristofer, embracing him tightly. He held her, his gaze sweeping over the room, a possessive satisfaction in his eyes.

My world shattered. This was it. The final, brutal blow. There was no more hope. No more doubt. Just a gaping, bleeding wound where my heart used to be.

I couldn't breathe. The air in the room felt thick, suffocating. I turned, blindly pushing through the jubilant crowd, needing to escape, needing to be anywhere but here. I found a deserted hallway, my legs shaking, my vision blurred by unshed tears. I stumbled into the ladies' room, locking myself in a stall, and finally, the dam broke. I sobbed, harsh, guttural sounds tearing from my throat. It was over. Everything. All my foolish hopes, all my naive dreams.

After what felt like an eternity, the tears stopped. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, a ghostly figure with swollen eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. No. Not like this. I would not let them see me broken. I splashed cold water on my face, forced my trembling hands to fix my hair, and straightened my dress. I put on a brave face, a mask of indifference. I had to.

I walked back into the party, my head held high, a cold, hard resolve settling in my chest. The music was still pounding, the laughter still echoing. I made my way to the bar, needing another drink, needing to drown the last vestiges of pain.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed my arm, yanking me back. "Hey there, pretty thing. Didn't think I'd see you again." It was the same drunk man from the park bench, his eyes even more glazed now. He pressed too close, his breath foul.

"Let go of me," I said, my voice low and dangerous.

"Oh, come on, sweetheart. Just a little dance," he slurred, pulling me closer.

I struggled, but he was stronger. My eyes darted around, searching for Kristofer, for anyone. I saw him, across the room, his back to me, still with Elenor. He was laughing, his arm still around her. He didn't see me. He wouldn't.

Suddenly, Elenor shrieked. "Kristofer! My ankle! I think I twisted it!" She crumpled dramatically into his arms.

Kristofer immediately turned, his face etched with alarm. He scooped her up, his gaze never once straying from her pained expression. "Elenor! Are you alright?"

My heart squeezed, a final, agonizing pulse of pain. He didn't even look my way. Not even a glance. I was being harassed, and he was too busy playing the hero for his fragile Elenor.

"Kristofer!" I called out, a desperate plea escaping my lips.

He looked up then, meeting my gaze across the crowded room. His eyes were cold, assessing. The drunk man still had my arm, his grip bruising.

Elenor, clinging to Kristofer, looked at me with wide, innocent eyes. "Oh, Adah, are you in trouble? Should Kristofer help you?" Her voice was laced with malicious delight.

Kristofer's gaze flicked from the drunk man to me, then back to Elenor. He tightened his grip on her, his voice firm. "Adah can handle herself. She's strong."

The words were a death knell. He had chosen. Again. He had abandoned me, publicly, unequivocally. The last thread of my love for him snapped. It wasn't just betrayal anymore; it was an active decision to let me suffer.

A cold rage, pure and potent, flooded my veins. "Let go of me, you pervert!" I snarled at the drunk man, my voice laced with a fury that startled even myself. I didn't wait for him to react. I brought my knee up, hard, connecting with his groin. He gasped, releasing me, clutching himself and doubling over.

"Don't you ever dare touch me again!" I spat, my voice shaking with raw power. I looked down at my hand. My nails had broken, digging into my palm, leaving crescent-shaped marks. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the agony in my soul.

Elenor, still in Kristofer's arms, watched me, a smirk playing on her lips. "My, my, Adah. Such a temper. Kristofer, darling, I told you she was unstable."

Kristofer's eyes were still on me, a flicker of something unreadable there. But he didn't move. He didn't come to me.

"Is that all you have to say, Elenor?" I challenged, my voice cutting through the shocked silence that had fallen around us. "Or would you like to remind everyone how you got that pretty little heart condition of yours? Playing the damsel in distress, just like always?"

Elenor's smirk vanished, replaced by a flicker of genuine fear. "How dare you!" she hissed. "Kristofer, she's slandering me!"

"Yes, Kristofer," I said, my voice mocking. "Defend your damsel. Defend the woman who claims your love, your protection. Tell me how you let her use her illness as a weapon, how you're so blind to her manipulation."

Elenor's face crumpled, tears streaming down her cheeks. "He loves me, Adah! He always has! You were just a fling! A distraction!"

Her words, sharp and cruel, pierced through the last vestiges of my hope. Distraction. Fling. She was right. He had never loved me. He was never going to.

Suddenly, a piercing screech of tires ripped through the air. A car, completely out of control, swerved onto the sidewalk, heading straight for the cluster of people near the ballroom entrance. Panic erupted. Screams filled the air.

Kristofer, still holding Elenor, didn't hesitate. He spun, shielding her with his body, pushing her behind him, away from the path of the oncoming vehicle. His focus was entirely on her, his precious, fragile Elenor.

I stood there, frozen, watching them, watching the car. It was coming straight for me. I saw Kristofer's back, his broad shoulders, protecting her. Never me. Never once for me. The realization was the last thing my mind registered.

A blinding flash of light, a deafening crash, and then, nothing. My body felt like it had been hit by a freight train. A searing pain ripped through me, and I was thrown through the air, my head hitting something hard. Darkness swallowed me whole. The last sounds I heard were Elenor's shriek, and Kristofer's panicked shout, "Elenor!" But it wasn't for me. It was never for me.