The first thing that told Quinn something was [i]very wrong[/i] was the voice.

It was someone—a voice—that she'd never heard before. And certainly a voice she'd never heard, or expected to hear, over the loudspeaker. [i]Decide where the power lies. There is no king in the mirror.[/i] What? What on Illun was [i]that[/i] supposed to mean? Kings? Mirrors? It sounded a bit like a poem, she thought, but...off. Wrong. Admittedly, her exposure to things like poetry and literature had been very limited, but there was something about it—some deep piece of her—that told her it wasn't supposed to be. Perhaps it was the tremulous quality of the voice, but she felt certain that it was...a message, maybe for her. A quiet message, like it didn't want [i]something[/i] to hear.

A [i]scared[/i] message.

[i]Only a throne, a crown, and a promise. And with great pains, I will see this done.[/i]

More things she didn't understand. Kings, thrones, crowns, mirrors? She frowned. It was supposed to fit together somehow. Puzzle pieces, but they didn't make any sense. She tried to ponder what it could mean.

And then the lights went out.

[i]Curfew is now in effect. Non-pilot personnel please exit the floor.[/i]

And Quinn suddenly had the terrible feeling of someone—[i]something[/i]—behind her. An instinctual and crushing feeling that she wasn't alone. And whatever was here now was dangerous. Just like the voice, it was...[i]wrong.[/i] The darkness stretched out, and it felt somehow like a living thing. Her breaths came short and sharp.

[i][color=black]Go.[/color][/i]

And all at once, galvanized by the sudden voice, she snapped into motion, and she [i]ran.[/i]

She sprinted through the hall, driven onward by that horrible feeling of [i]something.[/i] The lights came on as the power began to cycle, and she spared a moment to glance behind her.

It was still dark. And as she ran, the darkness raced after her, suffocating the fitful nascent light. She didn't know what would happen if the darkness caught up with her, but she was in [i]no hurry to find out.[/i]

Doors flew past, and she kept her eyes glued to them as best she could. [i]Everything looked the same here![/i] And just as she felt herself flagging, felt the [i]thing[/i] in the dark creeping up behind her: [i]Quinnlash Loughvein.[/i] She skidded to a stop, nearly passing the door in her desperation, and at her gaze, it opened—thank [i]god,[/i] THANK GOD that still worked—revealing the lights still barely working. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. It was [b][i][color=ed1c24]RIGHT BEHIND HER[/color][/i][/b] she bolted in and [i]slammed[/i] the button hard enough to sting her hand. It shuttered closed again, and she raced over to the opposite wall, pressing herself to it as she stared wide-eyed in fear as the [i]thing[/i] in the darkness...

...didn't follow.

But still, she could feel it. Waiting, [i]hunting[/i], just outside of her door. She knew, sure as anything, that if she opened it, whatever was out there would find her. Her breaths refused to slow. Her whole body shook. As tears began to stream from her eye, she hugged herself tight, digging tense clawed fingers into her biceps. [color=ffe63d][i]Please, please, please, leave, go away, let it be over—[/i][/color]

And then the lights flashed back on, bright enough to hurt her her wide, scared eye. The [i]thing[/i] in the shadows was gone. And it was over.

She uncoiled herself bit by bit, and her body, no longer so tense her muscles ached, fell limp from relief. She slid down the window glass, falling to the floor with a [i]thump.[/i] She stared at the door still. The fear lingered inside of her; both her own, and another. The instinctual fear of whatever had been out there. The escaping tension and fear bulged in her throat. She clenched her head between her hands like it would fall apart if she didn't hold it in. The tension in her throat grew too great to hold, and wrenched her mouth open.

Quinnlash screamed.