Kisa stood over the bed, looking down at the body of the king. She tilted her head, considering. He didn’t look like much, in his bedclothes, drenched in blood. Just like any other person she had killed. Runt to royalty, everyone looked the same when they were dead. She heard a shuffling behind her, and she turned slightly.

“Yes?”

“I’m not going to lie about that!” Maggie said, exasperated.

“Why not?” Malcolm asked.

“Because it’s a stupid reason to lie?”

“But if they think we’re a couple, we’ll get the couples discount!”

Maggie glared at him. “Malcolm. It’s two dollars. Just cough it up.”

Malcolm sighed. “Just have to be a goody-two-shoes, don’t you,” he muttered as they moved forward in line…

She stumbled through the fog, unable to see anything before her. The haze all around her was overwhelming; she couldn’t see her own hand in front of her face, let alone anything that might be hiding out there. Her throat felt raw from her gasping breaths, and she felt dampness on her face that she wasn’t sure was tears or mist. She took another staggering step forward. Her muscles burned, and each step felt heavier than the last. She didn’t know how long she had been running, but she could feel the strain on her body, could feel the oppressive fog pushing against her. Her foot caught on an unseen obstacle, and she fell, scraping her hands against stone…