Chapter 1

"Do you believe in Destiny?"

Pyrrha's eyes were locked onto the woman before her. A woman who had killed a Maiden, bested the headmaster, and bested her too. It was all still a little too hard to believe, even though it had just happened.

"Yes."

She took a step back, and her glass bow and arrow reformed, taking aim right down at the redheaded girl on the floor. There was no hesitation as she pulled the string back, no real regret of what she might be about to do. It had been nothing like a competition, or fighting Grimm. This was a woman, who thought and felt just like she did, and yet was so ready to take a life in an instant. There was a beat that seemed to last an eternity, what may have been Pyrrha's own final heartbeat.

Her fingers let go of the string, and the arrow was shot straight into her chest.

For a moment, Pyrrha couldn't react beyond shock. Shock, that it really had happened, and that she was about to die. No near miss, no might-have-happened, her life really was about to be over.

Then, the pain set in. The agony of an arrow burying itself into her chest, cutting away at the organs inside. The fire of her new powers seemed all too happy to help it out, as her insides began to burn. Heat was pouring into her body, and the blood that had started to fill her lungs was then boiling. It spread all across her body, tendrils of fire burning beneath her skin, all down her arms, her legs, and up into her head.

The stars in the sky winked down at her, their bright light begging for her to hold on to life even as they began to dim and fade from her vision. She desperately tried to keep those lights alive in her eyes, praying that she could simply push through it, and it would be all okay. That the invincible girl wasn't just some name that her manager had invented to capitalise on her skill, but that she really could be strong enough not to die. Oh god she didn't want to die…

All the while though, Pyrrha was sat in excruciating agony. Too weak and wracked by pain to do anything but stay still as death clawed at her with such horrible ferocity, even as her very soul screamed out in anguish.

Her life flashed before her eyes, and every mistake she'd ever made was suddenly thrust before her. Why hadn't she pushed to not be such a celebrity? Or even just cast aside her fears and worked harder on her social life? Why oh why did she let nerves beat her, and not simply confessed her feelings for Jaune so much sooner? So many mistakes, so many missed chances…when was the last time she called her parents, just to tell them how much she loved them?

In a move that could almost be considered gentle, her killer placed her hand on Pyrrha's headpiece, and gently held it as another wave of energy flashed through her fingertips, and into the helpless girl at her feet. Her body throbbed once more under the torture, before finally the fire reached up and wrapped around her mind, incinerating away her life with one final macabre inferno.

_/\_TIG_/\_

Pyrrha's agonising scream pierced the air, and she shot up from her bed. The first thing she felt was the cold, the same one someone might feel at the dead of night in their bedroom. Which was exactly where she found herself. Wrapped up in blankets, dressed in her pyjama's, and as the light from the moon shone through her window, she saw her she was in her room.

Not the one in Beacon, her room. There was her tv, and her books, and her bears, and her weapons, and-, her eyes locked on the sword and shield in the corner of the room. They laid there on display, shiny and clean, and intact.

'But…how…'

Her bedroom door burst open before she could continue to think, and a man came darting inside in his underwear and a sleeping shirt, followed closely by a middle-aged woman who was hastily tying up her dressing gown.

"Pyrrha? What's wrong, are you alright?"

"M-…mom? …Dad?"

Her breathing caught as she looked at them, tears welling up in her eyes as she was bombarded with feelings of relief, confusion, and terror, which all welled up inside of her to turn her back into the small girl of her childhood.

"Sweetie? What's wrong?"

Her father's tone switched from his the cautious warrior who had been prepared for a burglar, to the loving and protective dad he normally was. In an instant he was over by her side, hands gently resting on her shoulders. It was all too much for her, and without hesitation or embarrassment, Pyrrha flung herself into her father's arms and began to bawl her eyes out. She tried to babble out words. Chokes of Beacon and tower dying in her throat as she sobbed in their arms.

Despite his confusion, he wrapped her up in a tight hug, rocking back and forth to try and calm his little girl. Her mother made her way by her side too, and as soon as she set down Pyrrha desperately reached out and pulled her into the embrace too.

She didn't hesitate for a second, and was softly stroking her hair as she wept. Cooing soft words of love for her child.

"It's alright baby, it's alright. We're here, it's alright…"

Pyrrha kept her face buried in the crook of her father's arms, letting the agony of her own death truly settle its weight onto her, and focusing on the steady beating of his heart to calm her. His warmth wasn't like what she had just felt, and she was almost freezing by comparison.

But his big strong arms kept her still, the smell of her mother's shampoo telling her that she was home, that she was safe. Her mind fought within itself, arguing that she needed to warn them before it was too late. Cinder was on the tower. She was going to get away. But the relief she felt being in her parents arms was too much. She moved slightly as her father's shirt became wet with her tears, leaning in towards her mother more. Both of their shirts were quickly soaked with her tears in spite of her brief embarrassed attempts to contain herself. They didn't move though, simply held her in their arms, and waited until she was ready.

It felt like hours before she finally stopped, her eyes red and cheeks wet. She didn't move straight away, staying still in the loving and calming embrace of her parents. When she did though, her head moved slowly upwards, and the arms around her steadily broke apart, giving her room to move but not leaving her entirely, even as she exited out of the ball she'd curled into.

Her dad looked into her green eyes with his own piercing pair. It wasn't angry, or judging, or even pitying, but pleading, desperate to know what had upset his baby so much. Her mother's red hair swung into vision as she tightened her arms just a little bit and pulled her closer.

"Are you okay sweetie? What's wrong?"

Her mother's voice was soft and gentle, just probing into her troubles, but not pushing.

"I…I…"

What could she say? How could she tell her parents that she'd died, that she was-…back home? Alive again? …Alive…

Alive.

How was she alive!?

She began to hyperventilate as her mind raced, rather pathetically trying to comprehend the impossibility of what had happened. Her parents arms were wrapped around her again in an instant, and she could vaguely hear her dad asking her what was wrong.

"I…I…I died. I was-"

Her throat caught again as the memories came boiling back into her mind. No tears came though, and she held her ground against the onslaught of emotions which tore at her. She wished she could have called it strength, but in reality she was simply too weak, she had cried too many tears and so she had none left. Like stabs at her heart she seemed to gag on her words, body jerking in attempt to cry only for nothing to happen. And so she contained herself, steeled her body to still in the arms of her parents.

She caught the confused glance her parents briefly shared, before turning straight back to her. She didn't blame them for not understanding, she didn't herself. After several deep breaths she was calm enough to continue, but this time her parents didn't ask her anything about what had upset her.

Instead, her mother took her face in her hands. Using a single thumb to wipe out a solitary remaining tear, she looked her dead in the eyes.

"Are you alright sweetie?"

She nodded ever so slightly, before forcing herself to put more effort into it and give a more proper attempt. She didn't trust herself to speak, and simply kept it at that. Her mum seemed to understand though and gave her one final squeeze before she and her father stood up from her bed.

"We'll talk about it in the morning if you want to yeah?"

She nodded, properly this time as her two concerned parents moved towards the door.

"Wait." They froze on the spot, and looked at her worryingly. Her head turned slowly towards the window, "can… can you open it?"

"Are you sure?" Her father asked, beginning to take a few steps towards it anyway. "It's the dead of night dear, you'll be freezing."

She shook her head in confirmation. The colder it was the better, she wouldn't be able to bear any heat at the moment. Her father moved and opened it up slightly, just enough to let some cool air, but still feeling too protective to fully open it and let his daughter freeze.

As he walked back across her room he stopped beside her, and gave her one final loving kiss on her head before heading to the door, and finally stepping out.

_/\_TIG_/\_

Petus shut the door to his daughters' room slowly, each groan of the door and click of the handle echoing loudly throughout their quiet house. He turned to his wife, who shared the same fretful look that he felt.

"What was that? How could a nightmare-…?"

"I don't know Talia, she hasn't been that scared since she was a child."

His wife nodded, muttering 'Grimm People 6' under her breath, the horror film that Pyrrha had secretly stayed up to watch with them in secret. As enraptured as his wife had been with the film, Petus had been asleep when Pyrrha first squeaked and gave herself away. She'd had nightmares for days afterwards, only slowing when they let her stay in their bed for a few nights.

He doubted it would work now that she was a young lady.

"I'll call Azuli in the morning, tell her to cancel that Pumpkin Pete's photoshoot for the afternoon." Petus said as he hugged the side of the hallway, letting his wife lead the way back to their room.

"She won't be happy. Neither will Pumpkin Pete's…"

"I know. But she'll have to deal with it. Between Pyrrha's scholarship at Beacon and the money we've saved for her from the tournaments, we'll manage for the money."

"Will we?"

It was an oft topic of discussion between the two of them, managing the finances of the family around Pyrrha's training. Her modelling and sponsorship deals brought in a lot of money alongside tournament winnings, but the amount that had to be spent on her was excessive. Additional tutoring on her martial skills, extensive maintenance and ammunition, buying new tools and equipment for the increasingly larger workshop they had made for her. Even with additional savings from their own previous work before they had retired to focus on her training, turning Pyrrha into a prodigy had been a costly affair.

"We'll have to. Finances will be tight, and we'll have to tighten the budget a bit more even if it's just the two of us. But hey, we can always go back to work if we need to, I'm sure I could get my old job back if I begged hard enough." He cracked a grin even though his wife had her back to him. After how long they'd been married, she would still know.

"Yeah…" Petus frowned as his attempt at humour failed. He'd wanted to try and distract her a bit from what had just happened, knowing how terribly difficult it would be for his wife to sleep with her mind still racing. Not that he could talk, he would be just as awake as her.

"She'll still get plenty of modelling requests anyway, even if Pumpkin Pete's try to blacklist her out of spite. For a cereal company aimed at children they're awfully petty."

"She is a very pretty girl…" Talia half-heartedly agreed. Shrugging off her dressing gown and preparing to slide into bed, her husband's arms wrapped around her before she could, and he placed a soft kiss on the top of her head as she relaxed into his arms.

"It could just be nerves sweetheart. She's never been away from home before for as long as she will be. You'll see, come the morning she'll be right as rain."

He stroked her arms reassuringly, and she gave a firmer nod of agreement. He let her go without any further word, and joined her in bed as she slid in. Pulling her close in, he sincerely hoped he hadn't just lied to his darling wife, and that he'd wake up and his baby would be fine.

No more tears. No more fear. She would be back to her happy old self.

He hoped.

_/\_TIG_/\_

Pyrrha lay shivering in her bed, relishing in the cool wind as it chilled her to the bone. She'd kicked her blankets away and thrown them on the floor shortly after her parents had left.

Anything to avoid the heat again.

She'd calmed down though, the horrifying awakening she'd been through having passed by. Now, now she was thinking. Thinking about what was to come, if anything. Was this some kind of final goodbye in her mind before she passed on? Or was it real, and she had a second chance.

Her hands glided across her bedsheet. It felt real, and she hoped more than anything that it was. But could it actually be? It sounded so impossible, that she could die and then-

She shook her head to clear away her thoughts, but try as she may all the doubts and questions didn't cease. Her head began to ache as her mind refused to quit, refused to calm down and let her sleep. Instead, she locked her eyes out her window, gazing up at the stars and the fractured moon that sat among them.

It would be a very long night…

_/\_TIG_/\_

Pyrrha watched the sun rise outside her window, the glare making her wince in instinct, but still refusing to turn away. It was the most beautiful sunrise she had ever seen, yet she didn't know how she felt about it. The mess of emotions from the night sat heavily in her gut, a tangled web of sadness, fear, and regret. It was passing though, ebbing away into simple but almost obsessive confusion.

She was alive.

The how and why were almost haunting in how unanswerable they were. She supposed it could have been the afterlife, but she doubted that. No religion she'd ever heard of had described anything like this, and nor could it be a dream either. Everything felt so real, so perfect to how she remembered it all. The smooth softness of her silk sheets. The smell of lavender in her cushions from the cleaner her mom used. The little chips in her wooden bed frame from where she'd accidentally bumped it with the blade on Miló while cleaning.

No, she didn't think she was dead.

Was it part of her semblance? That didn't really make sense, considering it had nothing to do with magnetism, but nor could it be a second semblance either. Such things were fantasy even compared to the fairy tales of the Maidens. But a semblance wasn't too ridiculous of a place to start, given how powerful and strange many of them could be.

Had somebody else sent her back in time? Perhaps that was what their own semblance did, whoever this person was. Except, that was just the thing. Who could have sent her back? She was alone on that tower aside from her murderer, and she severely doubted Cinder did it.

Just the thought of that woman made a combination of bile and terror rise up in her throat. And more than just a little bit of hatred too.

That was new for Pyrrha, she'd never hated anyone before. Been angry of course, and sometimes her fans could be more than a little annoying when they insisted on having autographs while she was busy out in the town. But never hated, never before, such a feeling was so personal, and her life had been so detached from most.

Until now…

It wasn't just that she'd killed her, but the devastation she'd unleashed upon Vale, The damage, the deaths, oh she hated her for so much more than her own selfish reasons. It was difficult to do, but she recalled the speech that Cinder had given before the Grimm attack, and just after-…she could match the voice easily when it haunted her so. Her speech had been filled with so many lies, but what else could be expected from someone who had lied constantly about being a student from Haven, lied about so much in such a short space of time. She wondered if 'Cinder' was even her real name.

Her growing contempt was interrupted by a knock on her door. Short and soft, she could tell it was her mother before she had even let herself in.

She didn't say anything, simply walked over to the side of the bed that Pyrrha was laid down on, and softly stroked her hair. She was still in her pyjamas, and from the distant sound of their shower it seemed they hadn't long been awake.

"Hey baby, did you sleep?"

She shook her head only a fraction of on an inch, but her mom saw it with ease, and leaned down closer.

"I can make you some breakfast if you like? Eggs? Or maybe some pancakes?"

There was a strange twitch on Pyrrha's face at the last word, but her mom pushed it out of her mind.

"Eggs, please…"

The sleepiness in her voice was clear, if the bags forming under her eyes hadn't been obvious enough. Still, Talia did as her daughter asked her too, and Pyrrha once again found herself empty in her room.

'I can't stay in here forever…' Pyrrha thought to herself, as she slowly edged her body off her bed. Her feet hit the ground with a shakiness the champion didn't think she'd ever felt before. It was hard. Scary. But she forced herself to stand up anyway.

She didn't really feel very different. A little lighter perhaps, but physically she was the same. Walking towards her wardrobe, she opened it with just the slightest bit of trepidation, pausing when she saw what awaited her. There, shiny and pristine, was her armour. In the back of her mind, she knew she wouldn't find any damage even as her eyes roamed over it, searching for dents and burn marks. Nothing, not a single sign…

She turned her eyes away, and reached inside from memory alone, grabbing hold of her scarlet dressing gown. Now dressed in more than just her pyjamas, she opened her bedroom door and took her first tentative steps outside her room.

The sound of the shower stopped down the hall towards her parents' room, but she paid it no mind as she headed down the stairs. As she moved through her home, her true home, her senses were filled with familiarities. The smell of dry scented candles which sat on a cabinet by the front door, the feeling of the wooden bannister against her fingertips, the sights of the city outside the window, already bustling as the new day started, and the sounds of sizzling as her mother fried eggs in the kitchen.

She took her seat in silence, waiting awkwardly at the kitchen table. With her mother still cooking, Pyrrha reached over for the TV remote and turned it on to cut out the silence. Flicking through the channels revealed nothing of interest, and eventually left it on some breakfast show that was interviewing Spruce Willis about an upcoming film. She let it drone on in the background, paying only marginal interest as her father entered the room.

"Morning sweetie. You uh…you feeling any better?"

She slowly shook her head, and forced out a small 'no' as a plate of eggs and toast were placed in front of her. She didn't miss the concerned look her parents shared, even as she idly picked at her meal. She was hungry, her body was telling her so, but she couldn't bring herself to eat properly.

"Alright, well uh…you did have your modelling shoot today at 3:00pm, but I'll give Azuli a call and tell her to cancel it. Maybe we'll be able to reschedule for when you're feeling better before you go to Beacon."

Pyrrha hummed absent-mindedly in agreement, too tired to pay attention even when her father mentioned Beacon.

"And since you don't have modelling today, we can skip your makeup session this morning. Maybe we should do something as a family instead? Maybe see a movie or have some brunch? There's that nice café we've always talked about going to, the one that's out of the way a bit. Shouldn't have any interruptions from your fans or the press…"

He studied her carefully, watching for any change in emotion as each word left his lips. To his disappointment, there was nothing.

"Movie sounds nice." She mumbled, mostly out of obligation rather than actual agreement, and only eating slightly quicker.

Petus turned away with a grimace, standing up and walking over to his wife as she dished up a plate for herself, his own already waiting for him.

"She's not any better…" Talia whispered, casting her husband a worried look.

"I know. I'd hoped that a good nights sleep would-"

"She didn't sleep." Talia glanced towards her daughter, and Petus' eyes followed. He could see it now, the bags which had formed under her eyes, and the way her eyelids drooped with unseen weight. He looked away with shame, shame that his daughter seemed haunted by something he couldn't stop.

"We'll spend the day together, maybe that'll help."

She didn't look relieved, and he couldn't blame her. There wasn't anything else he could think of to do though. Well, that was one thing he needed to do at least.

He excused himself and stepped out into the hallway, pulling out his Scroll as he mentally prepared himself for the storm that was about to come. Each unanswered ring was like an iron weight being tied to his heart, the dread mounting with each moment that passed. Until finally, it was answered.

"…Hello? What is it Petus I'm very busy."

The woman on the other end looked to be middle-aged, even though she was actually much older than that. A former model herself, she had become one of the many agents she'd had just for herself in her day. One might think that would make her more sympathetic to the troubles of fame. One would be wrong.

"Hello Azuli, it's…nice to see you again. You look, happy?"

Her eyes narrowed into a deadly glare. "I never look happy. What's going on Pete?"

The cheery smile he'd been attempting to force onto his face began to crack, and his eyes darted awkwardly around. "Pyrrha isn't feeling very well today, she won't be able to model today I'm afraid."

There was a flash of concern on her face, and her tone changed from icy steel to that of a gentle mother in an instant. "What's wrong? Is she sick? I'll make some calls to some friends of mine and have someone over in an instant to check on her and-"

"She's not sick, just…not able to come in today."

There was silence on the other end of the scroll, only interrupted by the sound of something breaking outside his view. "What? Do you realise how long it took me to get this photoshoot booked? The next available opportunity isn't until after Pyrrha has left for Beacon, and I highly doubt Pumpkin Pete's would be willing to pay for my entire team to go all the way to Vale to do it again."

Petus chose to ignore the fact that the headmaster likely wouldn't let Azuli and her team onto the grounds, let alone interrupt Pyrrha's studies for a modelling shoot.

"I know what this means, and so does Pyrrha. But she's just not...she can't come today."

His eyes were pleading, even as hers were glaring into his skull. "I'm coming over."

"Oh, oh no that's not necessary Azuli, you don't have to-" she hung up before he could try and stop her, and the hallway was thrust back into silence.

"Oh dear…"

_/\_TIG_/\_

Pyrrha watched the Mistral skyline whiz by outside the car window. She'd been surprised when her father had come back into the kitchen to hurry her and her mother to get ready for going out. They hadn't been out together in a long time, not for anything other than business anyway, and she didn't remember him normally being so rushed.

It didn't make her go much faster though.

Her movements had lacked all of her typical grace and speed, instead she had drudged through the rest of her breakfast and pulled on the first clothes she lazily grabbed. Unsurprisingly her parents were all ready and waiting for her by the time she was back into the kitchen. She probably still smelled since she hadn't yet showered, but even if she tried Pyrrha wouldn't be able to bring herself to care about it.

Maybe people will forgive it if it's still early enough, she had idly thought.

If her parents noticed it, they didn't comment on it, as within moments they had been off into the garage, into the car, and off towards the outskirts of the city.

Being one of the few stable bastions of humanity in the world, Mistral didn't really have outskirts per se, it was more that the buildings were quite as big or quite as dense. Still, as the skyline passed by, the city seemed so far away, that she almost convinced herself that they were actually in some kind of countryside.

She'd heard them envisioned in books before. Wild tales of a world free of the Grimm, and where mankind could wander free and every day was like an adventure. It all felt so childish now. Now that she could see the skyline disappear in another way, a way filled with fire and under skies of Nevermore.

Her breath quickened as she saw it again. Heard the screams of panic, and cries of agony. Felt her skin prickle and tingle with imaginary heat. Those eyes looking down at her as she died. The joy that they held. The pride. The complete and utter lack of regret.

Plastic creaked as her fingernails dug into the cars door handle. She wanted out, wanted to get out into the fresh air, the fresh cool air. Where it wasn't as hot and the wind would whip through her hair. But she couldn't, she was trapped. Trapped like she was in that tower. Trapped because she believed had to be.

Believed she had to be a hero.

Believed she had to go outside with her parents.

Believed that she could do it all if she just tried.

Believed that she really was a hero.

Oh god it was so hot.

"Pyrrha!"

In an instant she was back. Her eyes locked on her mother's own, wide with shock before Pyrrha was distracted by wind rushing into her face. Slowly she realised what she had done, and shut the car door, closing off the outside world once again. Trapping her again.

She didn't look, instead losing herself in the blandness of the car's interior, but even so she could tell her parents were exchanging looks, silently questioning what she had just done, and what they should do. The cool wind hit her again as the window slid down just enough.

Apparently they'd decided to ignore it for now.

That was fine with her. She was too busy disappearing into the morning chill to care.

The ride itself was fairly smooth, owing to the moderately expensive car her parents owned. It wasn't lavish or especially unique, but Pyrrha wasn't so humble as to downplay the fact that it was better than most had. She remembered when they'd first gotten the car several years ago as part of an advertisement deal just after her first tournament win.

Getting sponsors and modelling for products after achieving the kind of fame she had at that point wasn't unusual, though the pay check was typically much smaller. Thanks to the talent she'd displayed however, she was already being called 'The Invincible' as an early moniker and companies were swooping in to be the first to get her on board. Advanced Motors, one of the many companies which was owned by Atlesian Technologies, had raised the bar significantly above their competitors by throwing in a free car as well as a not inconsiderable cash sum as well. In return she'd had to sign an exclusive marketing deal with them for any automotive sponsorships, as well as shoot some commercials for them of course. 'The car for champions' apparently saw a good boost in sales in spite of the fact that their mascot was herself too young to drive, and so she was being offered new and complicated contracts mere weeks after the commercials started airing. It was why they'd had to hire Azuli pretty early on.

As she lazily drifted her hand across the leather interior she tried to think about before those days. Ever since she'd catapulted into fame, life had become such a blur of signings, fake smiles, and camera flashes that she couldn't even remember what car they'd had before looked like.

It all just seemed to fade.

_/\_TIG_/\_

Things were much better inside the café. It was a small thing, barely even qualifying as anything more than a room with a coffee machine. But she didn't care.

She didn't care about the cramped in table and chairs, or the lack of other customers, or how the girl who served them was most probably the owners daughter and most certainly too young to actually work behind the counter. No, she didn't care about any of that.

All she cared about was the gentle breeze against her face as the ceiling fan spun.

"So, Pyr…"

The sentence hung awkwardly, her father not sure what he actually wanted to talk about, but just feeling he had to say something. He ummed and ahhed for a moment, before his eyes flicked a plea for help to his wife.

"Pyrrha…you um, you want to talk about what happened last night?"

She didn't. Or rather, she couldn't. The memories were too raw, too easy to remember and so hard to ignore. Even the mere mention of it was already turning her stomach into a twisted mess. She couldn't deal with it, couldn't let it bubble onto the surface again. It was too much, and she was just so tired.

It took more effort than it should, but Pyrrha gently swayed her head to say no.

Her parents didn't like that, but fortunately they either didn't know or were just hesitant enough not to say anything else. Instead, they stared awkwardly into their coffee mugs, with only the briefest concerned glance towards her glass of ice water.

She wasn't drinking it, just gripping it as her hands felt wonderfully freezing. The icy chill stretching through her fingertips, and up into her arms, like frozen nails beneath her skin.

"Pyrrha, you'll turn into a snowman trying to get so cold."

Her father's terrible joked masked the way his hands wrapped around hers, and tried to pull them away from her drink. In response she instead tightened her grip, fingers interlocking like a death grip. He pried them apart with pathetic ease.

When he took them in his, she almost exhausted herself trying to focus on him. His eyes were full of pity…and fear. She didn't know why, couldn't bring herself to comprehend it, but he was seeing something that scared him. That made him feel helpless.

"Pyrrha…you've barely said a word all day, and last night…" His worry was almost scary to see. The man she'd so often thought of as a rock, one who knew all and could guide her through anything was looking at her with eyes lost and afraid. When his pause went unfilled, he continued.

"Honey, last night you clearly had a very bad dream. Whatever happened in it, you know it wasn't real right? You're safe now, but we can't help you unless you tell us what's wrong."

He waited for her to answer. And waited. She moved her mouth in what was barely more than a few half-hearted attempts to explain herself. To explain something. She stopped, looked away, and swallowed hard before she turned back her father.

"I'm fine." Even just a few short words seemed to scratch at her throat, and the lie tried to bring out the tears and pain again as memories were reluctantly pushed into her mind. Her eyes flicked over to her mother, who looked equally as unconvinced as her father. She forced herself onwards, as if she could brush off their worries for just a little while longer with more lies. "I'm just a bit warm, and…and sick. I-I'm fine."

She threw in a few head nods as well for good measure, forcing out one of her smiles that she would fake for interviews or modelling days, yet even that felt unusually weak and false. Her father turned towards his wife, a silent conversation that could only between two people as close as they were. For a moment, Pyrrha felt hopeful that they might let it go when he turned back towards her. That was, until his eyes hardened, and his mind was made up.

"Pyrrha, you should-"

"Hi! What can I get you?"

Petus awkwardly looked to the young girl who had seemingly just appeared next to their table, her notepad and pen at the ready and face adorned with what seemed to still be a genuine smile. Pyrrha noticed her father hesitate before it looked like he was going to say that they were about to leave, and quickly cut him off.

"Eggs please. Uh, on toast…"

Her father locked eyes with her briefly, before awkwardly flicking them back to his wife for help.

"Same for us please."

Talia quickly passed over the single menu on the table that none of them had yet to look at. When the waitress left, Petus looked over to his wife and seemed to decide that she would lead this time.

"Honey…I know you're not, fine." She paused under the weight of admitting that there was something wrong with her daughter, but she pressed on anyway. "You've been acting very strange today, you can't just pretend that last night didn't happen. Or that whatever is wrong can just be ignored."

Almost as if by fate, the world started to blur. It was subtle, like Pyrrha had at some point stopped paying attention and her eyes were un-focusing. But even as she tried to force herself to pay attention, and the room grew warmer, the blur persisted.

"Alright, c'mon baby, we're gonna take you to the hospital."

She was going to a hospital? Why? She was fine, everything was fine. She just needed her drink, her icy cold drink. Then she could cool down again. Her hands clasped around it again even as her parents stood from their chairs and began to pick up their things. Once again her father's hands pulled the treasured cold from her fingertips, and gently encouraged her to stand up. Before she knew it she was on her feet and being coaxed towards the door, the sound of her mother paying for their very short meal being heard behind them.

But with each step her feet felt heavier. Her feet stopped lifting as she moved, instead they dragged along the ground in exhaustion. Her father shifted his weight to help her more, moving from guiding her to carrying her as they made it closer to the car. In his arms, she felt safe.

At first.

Then came the heat, the body warmth emanating from him that seemed to want to consume her. She pulled away, but her strength was limited, fading away quickly. Anxiety became panic, and she found herself fighting against him feebly, his worried voice sounding through her ears and yet so barely audible. She fought harder and harder, but her body became weaker and weaker.

Slowly, the word was fading, and fading.

Until it was gone.