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In the back of her mind a small voice told her no; it told her to stop moving, to lie down and close her eyes. It told her that if she slept she would wake up and be herself again. Yet she could not do that, and she would not listen. She was too far gone to even realize this voice was talking to her. Even if she had heard it she would not have recognized it. She was so far gone she didn’t even know who she was.

This didn’t stop the nagging though, and it didn’t stop the churning in her stomach. She felt sick, and the thought of following Alessas’ orders did not help. Those people she was supposed to find; to take care of; thinking of them gave her a headache she didn’t know how to relieve.

Why did they have to come? Why did they have to interfere?

Those were the kinds of thoughts running through her pained mind.

Her thoughts were interrupted though by a loud clanging. She looked over toward the alley it was coming from with a confused heart. It was day now, so why then was their noise where there should be none? No creatures should be lurking just yet, and she could not feel the ones she was looking for near here.  Was it one of those crazed survivors? Was Alessa having her tracked?

Miah tuned her surroundings out and tuned that specific area in. Her eyes darkened and the clouds did so as well. She felt a tremor in her mind; a familiar one.

A metal grate of some kind hit the asphalt hard, leaving a ringing in her ears. She immediately pulled her mind back. She knew who was making the noise.

Silently, she followed the steps that appeared after the loud noise. She followed them all the way into the city insane asylum; a place she didn’t often like to visit.

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The steps up were littered with trash, and bodies long ago mutilated lay at its base. The witch ignored this though, as she was so used to seeing it. And even though her normal mind might have internally flinched at the sight; her lost one barely registered any of it.

The inside, like the out, was a mess and dingy. Broken lights dangled and flickered eerily. She could hear the creaking old buildings often gave off, but louder than that she could hear the footsteps. If the person making them was trying to keep hidden, they weren’t doing a very good job.

Iron doors squealed open, indicating the person had found their way past the reception area. This didn’t concern Miah though. She slyly bypassed this, knowing the person would have whipped around only to have seen her shadow.

If she had done this to a survivor she might have felt a small amount of glee at the terror she caused. If she was in her right mind, a smirk might have found its way to her lips. Yet since neither of these was the case, she continued on; knowing exactly where she was heading, and exactly where the person would eventually find themselves.

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“So you have returned my dear? It’s been so long too. What brought this visit on?” the man in chains inquired. He was met with silence until a scream from down stairs sounded drawing his brows up.

Miah glanced at him; letting her stormy eyes penetrate his cloudy ones. She dared him to say more or to question her. When he merely shrugged his shoulders playfully, she crept backwards into the shadows.

It was not long before the third person arrived.

“Leonard,” Heather remarked as if they were long lost friends. The man in question smiled brightly and reached out, his shackles dragging across the floor. “Ah, come closer my dear, so I can touch you.”

Heather glared, backing up a bit. “I don’t think so,” she fumed.

They began to discuss the brotherhood, and his own daughter who was the head of it, but Miah tuned them out. Their squabble was of no concern to her. The only thing that had her staying put was the blonde that paced, unknowingly, in front of her.

It was this girl, Heather Mason, formally known as Sharon Da Silva, that was the c