Sadde is going to die. She's just a kid. Kids shouldn't feel so much pain. Her ankle's broken, and she can't feel her other leg. She hasn't looked at it to figure out why, yet, and she's certain she has cracked some ribs. Her arm's swollen and she's bruised all over. Her mom's dead, crushed by falling furniture, and she can see the monster in the distance. It's approaching. Slowly, through many obstacles provided by the capes, and of course there's the capes themselves. But it's approaching. She knows that unless it changes its course, she's going to be within its kill aura, and she will die. Even if it changes course earlier, if it gets much closer the radiation will reach her and she will die.

It hurts, but the worst part is the waiting. Counting heartbeats, watching the beast approach. Sometimes it gets its stride, and she's sure it'll be upon her soon and it'll end, but then someone pushes it back, and it fights, and it's more waiting. The seconds turn into minutes. It's slightly larger, slightly closer, but still too distant. She can only see it through a window of her toppled building. Why won't it just come and end this?

She's not even crying anymore. Her tears have long since dried out. She's numb. She can only dream. She dreams. She's so pretty in her dream, she's in a body that suits her—at the moment, anyway. And in the dream, she's saved. In the dream, someone shows up and carries her away. She doesn't know who it is, it doesn't matter, it's just a blank figure. But they save her. They carry her to a safe place, somewhere with a teleporter, they are a teleporter, she's safe, safe, safe. She watches the beast in the distance, and she dreams, and she believes her dream will come true, because it's better than believing that she has to keep waiting.

And it comes true. There's someone, there, now. She doesn't know where they came from, it's like they were there all along but she's only just noticed them. For a moment she thinks it's Scion, but they're white not golden, and featureless. They don't do anything, just stand there, looking at her without eyes. She doesn't recognize them, but she knows, she's saved, they've come to save her. So they do. They—carefully, carefully—pick her up, and she whimpers because of the pain because she doesn't have the strength to scream anymore. They don't teleport, though, they just carry her away. They're so strong, and so silent, and she finds out that she can still cry, and she clings to them. "Who are you?" she whispers, her voice hoarse from all the crying and screaming and sobbing and cursing and crying. They look at her, and it's not a mask, but it's not skin either. Whatever they are—it is?—they just don't have any features, eyes to see or a mouth to speak or a nose to breathe. They look at her anyway, and speak. "You." She notices her body has changed. It's—like she wishes it were. It's different, but exactly like she always believed she'd be, if she could look any way she wanted. She doesn't speak. She can't. She's just carried by, by whoever or whatever it is, she's carried to safety. They find a teleporter, somehow, and when the teleporter thanks her savior he squints at them, and just like that they're gone, flickered out of existence. But the teleporter saves her, she's safe, safe, safe, safe—