[KQ] Raise You Like a Phoenix

a m a l i a Everything is going well. Everything is going well! Amalia dodges a shard of bone, pulling her head back as it whistles by her nose. Rory is still conscious, and even better, able to walk. The throbbing in her arm is diminished to a dull and steady ache, though whether due to adrenaline or healing cannot be said. In a shocking turn of events, the Attuned fox actually decides to demonstrate some usefulness, shifting into a bird and grabbing the rope from her hand. He strings it through the holes and drops it down to Edy, who grabs it and begins to pull. Still guarding Rory, Amalia watches with growing excitement as man, woman, bird, beaver, and pony work together to pull the crossbeam into place. She wants to clap, to cry, to dance. "We did it!" Soft but tight, quivering with relief and joy. "We're going to do it!-" And then, the scream. It pierces, hurts, and Amalia whirls around like a startled animal, a horrible fear squeezing at her chest. It sounds like a child, like a beast, like a wounded and wild thing, and as quickly as the sound rings out it dies. The girl draws a shaky breath, her heart still fluttering- and then it stops. Returning her gaze to the rest of the group, Amalia sees something far worse than any scream. The bottom of her stomach falls out; she takes a step forward, dark eyes wide as they fly between Edy and Rory and the fallen antlers, silently rocking, glowing, taunting them from the ground. She turns to Rory, but she can see it's too late. His face is changed, contorted, the madness returned to the gentle lines. "No..." she chokes out, urgent and forceful and so very, very afraid. "Rory, no, you have to resist, we're so close, we've almost finished, please-" Amalia is walking toward Rory, her arm outstretched. She does not see the Edy from the corner of her eye. She does not expect the attack. She does not know. All she knows is a flash of light (or is that darkness?), the scales of the dreamfish, the blue of Rory's eyes, the white of the snow, and then cold, so much cold, and above her in swirls of abstract ink the perch spins and dances, her failures made art. Something hurts. Everything hurts. All she wanted was to do something right, to make this year different, to be good. To be the one to summon the Spark Bird. To be something great. Instead she had dragged them all out here to die. She was selfish. She was petty. She was a failure. She was. Her breath comes in a ragged cloud, one last word whispered into the night. "Vi..." The world goes dark.