Ran’s barely stitched together and already the questions start. Not from a doctor, but from people with clipboards and badges.
A’isha doesn’t sugarcoat it. She’s not here to check on a friend—she’s here to fill in the blanks of a very bad night. ‘Zug plays it low and dry as usual, pointing out what everyone’s thinking: it’s a miracle Ran’s not in the morgue herself.
There’s a television on in the background—just a detail, but one that matters. Men in flame-retardant suits torching Blight tendrils. It’s a thread from an earlier version of this story, one that almost opened Chapter 1. I was going to do more of a noir detective walk and talk and you'd see the television in the window of a store... instead I went with the in media res of Ran in the apartment.
Ran’s not out of questions. Or trouble. And neither is the hospital.
Next page: something gets up that shouldn’t.











