After a lingering look at Tris, at the strange space around me, the emptiness and silence of everything outside of the broken glass case and Tris' too-steady expression, I take my leave.

Waking, it fades behind me. I find myself, a moment after, sitting up in my own bedroom on a messy bed; I must have been tossing and turning. I didn't, not usually, especially not after lyrium. My feet are cold, the blankets discarded. It reminds me a little too much of the rush of icy water.

Tris will be around town; she will have to be, because Darrow was not something easily left. I can find her at leisure, I suppose, and speak to her again about it. Though I know she won't very likely be in much of a mood for discussing it.