Blissful nothingness.
I float in a white formless plane. Though there is nothing around for orientation, I feel myself going upwards, getting lighter and lighter every second as I lose substance.
If this is what dying feels like, nobody said anything about it feeling this peaceful, calm and serene. The burning and tearing sensations I felt with my veins packed full of wolfsbane is almost a dream now, a nightmare that needs to be quickly forgotten.
And I intend to too quickly forget it.
A hand grips my lower arm like a tether, anchoring me to life. Surprised, I look down at a golden visage that has become the face of my dreams. 'Mason,' I blurt.
Mason struggles to hold on to me, the muscles of his face pulled taut with the effort. A hiss of exertion escaping his lips, he draws me down towards himself. 'Fight,' he commands and begs together at once. 'Fight, Claire. If you die, they win, and you lose.'
