Iris could vaguely hear the sound of a flowing stream somewhere nearby as she slowly came to. The air was mixed with both moist dirt and fresh grass and...

Her eyes fluttered open and she winced as the sun shone down on her face. Iris groaned as she moved, her head screaming in protest.

Her head. She reached out slowly and was surprised to feel a bandage wrapped around it. She squinted and attempted to look around. She caught sight of Mason, his back turned to her as he sat, watching the river run.

Iris suddenly shot up. Except that wasn't Mason. And why the hell was there a river in the middle of an unkempt street in Los Angeles?

Iris could feel the bile in her throat rise as she groaned inwardly, holding her head in her hands. She was in a coma. She had knocked her head too hard, and now she was hallucinating.

The guy turned around to face her, frowning.

"Hey, hey," he said quickly, getting up. "Take it easy there."

"What the hell?" she croaked, her head drumming at the sound of her hoarse voice. Were all people in this much pain when they were in comas? "What the hell happened to me?"

The world hazed over slightly, and she found the stranger helping her lie back down onto the soft tufts of grass. She gazed into his green eyes, which blinked back at her with poised calmness, though there was no mistaking the concern behind them.

"Volterra," he took off the flask that hung around his neck and held the bottle to her lips. "You must be parched. Drink, please."

She hesitated, trying to glance into the bottle.

"It's not poison," he reassured. "Go on."

She took a sip and waited. There didn't seem to be any side-effects. Thirsty for more, she eagerly welcomed the sweet water as it met her dry lips, gulping it down faster than necessary.

"You must have a lot of questions," he said when he had slowly helped her back into a sitting position.

"Where's Mason?" she said, the memories of the previous event slowly returning to her. She fought down her panic. She was on the street, close to death. Mason had gone to get help. He'd be wondering where she was. Where Amira was...

She struggled to get up onto her feet, the sound of the ringing gun fresh in her ears. "Amira. Where is she? Where's Amira?"

"Hey, hey," the mystery guy, or the person she had invented from the figment of her imagination - she wasn't quite sure how much the lines between reality and dreams had blurred in her maimed head - placed two warm hands on her shoulder. Well, he certainly felt real. "I do not know who this 'Amira' or 'Mason' is. When I found you, Volterra, you were alone."

Iris fought the tears of fear and frustration that threatened to escape. Was she in a coma or was she dead? She remembered falling... an earthquake. Was she hallucinating? Did she have brain damage? "What happened? Where am I? Who are you? And why do you keep calling me Volterra?" One question after another, after another, none of which she was certain this guy could answer, especially considering he could very well be her imagination talking back to her.

"My name is Trevet. Trevet Aardon," he brushed aside some of the dirty-blonde hair that had fallen over his eyes and Iris found herself staring at his soft facial features, his small smile somehow reassuring – although a subtle sadness glimmered in his eyes.

"How's the head?" Trevet asked, and Iris shrugged, taking in her surroundings. When had it become day time? And seriously, where were they? How could her mind come up with such a scenery? She had never seen woods in her life, let alone a river.

Iris curiously noted his uniformed attire – black trench boots, long, dark green pants with a matching shirt and jacket, sleeves rolled up which revealed tanned, muscular forearms. He looked like he was from the army or something.

She blinked several times, a million questions buzzing in her mind. Amira's blood-soaked body was also flashing in a continuous loop in her mind, and it wasn't until Trevet's gaze lowered to her hands that she realised they were shaking.

"Are you okay?" he asked, then shook his head. "That was a stupid question. Of course, you're not. You must be so confused..." he paused awkwardly, wincing. "Are you cold?"

Iris went to stand again, and he quickly rushed to her aid.

"Slow down there," he gently held her elbow, but she brushed him off.

"I'm fine," she said, adding a smile, though she felt far from pleasant. "I just need to wash my face."

She bent by the waterside, surprised by the pristine clarity of the calm river. She stared back at her reflection, her fair skin dirty and bruised. Iris looked down at her hair-tie on her wrist and realised Trevet must have taken out her ponytail to wrap the bandage around her head. She glanced at her tangled, sandy-brown hair that cascaded in waves over her shoulders. Her black, torn jeans felt tight against her stiff body as she cupped her hands and leaned towards the water, splashing the surprisingly cool water over her heart-shaped face.

It wasn't often Iris paused to reflect on her appearance, but she found herself adjusting her olive green tank top as her hazel eyes stared back at her. Everything felt so surreal right now... and yet her face was dripping with water. She had felt the cold droplets on her skin. Was there any chance this was real?

"You can bathe when we arrive," Trevet said, offering a hand to help her up.

She ignored the offer and stood, wincing slightly at the pounding in her head.

"Arrive where?"

"The Terra District."

"The what?" Iris looked at Trevet who looked back at her with just as much confusion – and surprise.

"You really don't know?"

"Know what?" Iris replied irritably.

Trevet's eyebrows shot up. "The prophets were right... it's as if you don't even know of your own existence."

Iris squinted at him. "What?"

"That's why you were so confused when I called you Volterra..."

Iris was shaking her head. "Where the hell are we going?"

Trevet looked as if he were in conflict with himself, as if he were contemplating a million ways to answer her. "Oh dear... this could turn out to be quite problematic... Um. It's hard to explain. Maybe you should just wait until we arrive."

Iris opened her mouth to argue when a loud, trumpet-like sound ripped through the air. A small frown flitted across Trevet's face but disappeared as soon as it appeared.

Iris looked around, half expecting birds to fly out of the surrounding trees at the sound, but the forest remained silent save for the running river. Maybe things worked differently in a forest, but in the city, if a cark honked, any surrounding birds normally flew away.

"Where are the animals around here?" Iris found herself asking.

"Oh, they wouldn't be here. They had the sense to flee this part of the district a long time ago."

"Why wouldn't they be here?"

"Because," Trevet laughed. "Who would want to be this close to..." he stopped mid-sentence, seeming to rethink whatever he had been about to say.

"Too close to what?" Iris prodded, but he only shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

"We should get going," he said, grabbing his haversack and having it over his shoulders. "It's not safe being out here in the open for too long."

He didn't say anything more, but Iris didn't miss his glance at her left arm. She let out a surprised yelp when she noticed her arm was stained with what looked like black ink. Iris had been certain she had imagined that. Along with that free-falling sensation and that forest... which now that she thought about it, looked oddly similar to the woodland before her.

"What the hell?" she yelled, rubbing at the marking, but no matter how hard she rubbed or scratched, it would not remove itself. She blinked at the curious mark, two vertical lines parallel to each other that curled away in opposing directions at the top, somewhat resembling what Iris thought of as a plant sprouting.

Trevet placed a warm hand on hers as she attempted to wipe it off once again.

"Trevet, what is this? Why isn't it coming off? What the hell is going on?" Did he do this to her when she was sleeping? Was this some kind of sick trick? She'd heard of this before... girls being captured by rapists. Was she going to get sold to the highest bidder? She wasn't sure if her head was pounding from when her head had met the wall, or from her overflowing thoughts, or both.

He opened his mouth to respond when a sudden, thundering crack sounded through the air, like a whip snapping. The two turned to find a bright zig-zagging light shining not a few mere metres in front of them as if someone had sliced through the air and blinding light was suddenly pouring out of the ripped atmosphere.

Trevet suddenly grabbed her arm, his jaw set as his eyes narrowed.

"We need to go," he said, turning to leave, but Iris stood rooted to the ground, transfixed. He tugged at her, managing to half-drag her, but Iris was too stunned by the insurmountable light that was pouring through the cracked piece of sky.

A figure suddenly jumped out of the light, landing with one knee in the soil. The petite, slender woman looked up, her dark, a-line bob swishing in the sudden breeze that had picked up. The blinding light disappeared behind her as she stood up, and Iris felt a sudden chill race through her body as the young woman spotted her just a short distance away, their eyes meeting in a long, hard gaze. She was dressed in all black, strikingly contrasting the bright slit she had jumped from. The mystery woman's leather jacket was open, revealing a low-cut, sturdy bodice... and just above it, on her collarbone, familiar black ink decorated her skin. Except hers looked a little like... a flame, of some sort.

Iris glanced at Trevet, scanning him over with her eyes, but he didn't appear to bear any such sign himself - unless he had his covered.

"She has it too," Iris whispered aloud, stricken.

Trevet's jaw tensed as his lips thinned. "We need to go, now."

Before Iris could argue, the woman took out a short dagger from her belt and bolted towards them with impressive speed. Iris's breath caught in her throat at the sight of that sharp blade, glinting harshly in the light.

"Run!" Trevet cried, and this time, Iris did as she was told. She clenched her teeth and willed away the pain at the back of her head as she broke into a sprint, her scraggy Converses sinking into the muddy ground and slowing her down considerably.

She glanced back and realised Trevet had stopped running. He knelt to the ground, palm on the soil. Her eyes widened as the ground around the woman began to sink and erode near her feet. She barely stumbled as she moved with agile, precise movements, rapidly gaining speed on them. She threw one of her daggers with impressive force and it whizzed past Trevet, ripping his baggy pants and landing noiselessly into the soggy ground, flattening the grass beneath it. A warning. Iris suddenly got the eerie impression that this woman was after her, not Trevet. He was just in the way of her goal.

Iris winced at the sudden electrifying pain that coursed through her entire left arm. She looked down and her breath quickened at the sight of the black ink glowing. Even the woman stopped momentarily, holding a hand to her collarbone, mouth slightly open as if in pain.

Trevet looked between the two of them, a look of clear surprise on his face. The woman shook her head and continued her dash towards them, her eyes never leaving Iris's. Trevet swiftly stepped between them, but that only resulted in him being pushed to the ground as the woman swiftly knocked him over and straddled him, holding her second dagger high in the air, ready to bring it down upon him.

Iris knew that the logical thing to do would be to run while the crazy woman was distracted, and yet something urgent seemed to tug Iris towards Trevet, willing to help this stranger who had helped her. She delicately touched the bandage on her head and grimaced.

For reasons unknown to her, Iris's body seemed to be working at a pace faster than her mind, and she stepped towards the woman, palm outstretched.

"Stop!" Iris cried, just as her hand made contact with the woman's arm.

At that moment, the air stilled, and time seemingly paused. Then an electrifying buzz ran up her arm and her tattoo illuminated with such brightness that Iris had to look away. The woman cried out as well, her own mark brightening unimaginably. Iris felt her palms tingling and the earth rumbling beneath them and she could have sworn she saw the reflection of a flame in the woman's eyes. Then, an invisible, static shock coursed between the two and they went flying backwards in opposite directions.

Iris felt the wind get knocked out of her as her back hit the soil and she lay there, eyes blinking rapidly at the vast blue sky above. Trevet, who appeared to have been almost completely unaffected by whatever electricity Iris had clearly felt, swiftly got up from where he had stumbled and rushed towards her.

Iris let out a small groan as she slowly stood, leaning into Trevet and convincing herself not to throw up while her head spun and throbbed in agony. She looked towards the mystery woman, but she had already picked herself up and collected her dagger, except she now had a golden whip in one hand.

She cracked it in the air, and the golden slit Iris had initially seen, reappeared, glowing beckoningly in front of the woman. Then she stepped through without so much as a glance back, leaving Iris and Trevet alone once more by the riverside.

"What," Iris said after she had caught her breath, "the hell just happened?" She didn't know how many times she had asked that question in such a short time span, but she thought she had more than a good reason. If Iris was in a coma right now, then she had one hell of an imagination.

Trevet grimaced, a hand still firmly around Iris's shoulders to keep her from swaying.

"So," he cleared his throat. "There's a lot of explaining to do."

"Well," Iris said flatly. "You can start by telling me who on Earth she was!"

Trevet raised his eyebrows. "You really don't know? Well, I suppose you wouldn't recognise her." Iris narrowed her eyes at him in utter bewilderment, and he quickly continued. "She is the infamous Assassin Lord's protegee and Right Hand, who goes by the name Mazikeen – you know, like the little devil's advocate? Because that's kind of what she is. Her master is... well, never mind. Anyway, she's known mostly by her shorter name, Mazikeen."

"And why would I know her?"

Trevet grimaced. "Well, because she's also your sister."