Too late. Too late.
Too. Damned. Late.
I knew it as I tore at the veil. I knew it while a shriek so powerful I would never contain it built in my chest. I knew it even as I slipped and slid my way out the gap, across the floor, landing on my knees at her side.
Too late. Oh, Mom, how could I be too late? For you of all people.
Fate, so cruel. So heartless.
Miriam Hayle was dead.
No. This couldn't be right. I had to be mistaken. My mother, my beautiful, amazing, incredible, talented, powerful mother...
I grasped her to me, clinging to her, power diving inside her, searching for her, begging her to come back. Echoing empty nothing answered.
Nothing.
The room flooded with people, Dad crashing to the floor next to me, but I held him off with a snarl of fury, forcing him to hug both of us, tears pouring down his face.
No. No. No.
I was supposed to die. NOT MY MOTHER.