Suddenly the earth beneath their feet began to tremble slightly, startling them both. Veri looked up to Tristan, and her wide eyes met his.

There’s something in there.

“What?” she asked.

“I didn’t say anything,” Tristan replied, his voice sounding unusually monotone. Another wave of quake rolled beneath them, this one harder than the first, that knocked both of them against the red-painted wall of the barn.

Can’t you see? There’s something in there. The voice was still indistinct, as if whoever – or whatever – had said it had been numb and leaden. Leaden like death. A fear she’d never known before clutched at Veri’s chest.

“Tristan.”

He looked at the girl. Her face was so pale it was literally white.

“Tristan—help me.” The brown of her eyes had taken on a dark flame. Something was wrong with her. Very wrong.

He looked around as if trying to see something to aid her, but nothing stood out. “Uh – how? What’s going on with you?” The flames had grown taller and darker, and her eyes now looked like clear glass orbs that could only hold in that smoldering darkness for so long before they broke.

“I—I don’t know—” she choked. She seemed to lose hold on the world and flailed her arms about frantically, trying to grab onto something, anything solid. She caught Tristan’s arm and clutched to it for dear life.

He uncertainly held on to her childish wrist. She was falling. The earthquake was still going, but that shouldn’t be affecting her like this. She slipped down until her weight was hanging off of him. Now her eyes were a blank black.

Then it hit like a wave of frigid, crystalline air. The wind whipped around and through everything in its path. As it blew over things they seemed to become smoother, like the process of erosion was being ridiculously sped up. Leaves and needles torn from trees were sent whirling in the eddies of the wind and after mere moments had broken up into fragments and dissolved entirely. The red on the barn flaked and faded as though the passage of time had been sped up, and within seconds the four-day-old paint coat looked years old. On his head, neck, and hands, he could feel the skin being pelted by innumerable minute shards sharper than anything he had ever felt.

Veri became heavier and he looked down to see her hanging unconscious from his arm. Her blank eyes were open and disconcertingly clear, yet obviously disconnected from the girl he knew. The ground shook again even harder and as he lost his balance and grip Veri fell, hitting her head backwards on the hard dirt. Kneeling now, and thrown completely against the structure, he struggled to pick her up. She was somewhat stiff and the wind was biting into her face in a strange way.

Tristan’s eyes flew wide open in realization.

He unsteadily stood and made his way over the shaking ground, determined to reach the barn. The whole building shook when he finally made it to the door. Every board and beam groaned under the forces and clouds of splinters settled on him and Veri as he tried to find the cellar door he knew was there somewhere. Her body was becoming colder, but, then again, so was everything else. It was hard to tell…

He finally found the door and kicked it open just as another shock of the quake ripped through the ground, knocking him and the girl he carried into the darkness of the cellar. As he tumbled below the edge of the light, he saw her knock her face against the rough wooden trapdoor and her eyes cleared, at least for the split second he could see them. Darkness enveloped both of them and she managed to grasp his fingers as they fell.

“Tristan! My mom!” she screamed in a hoarse rasp before they both hit the stone floor hard.