Sjari drifts faceup through the amethyst eddies.

She maintains her focus, keeps her mind calm, so that she can stay nestled in the magic flow between places without emerging. Without attracting the Hive.

She can sense them around her, their foul presence charging the Ley Lines, waiting for a pocket of potential space to materialize.

She needs to keep them here—wherever here is, as she doesn't know where she landed after the eruption of energy that threw her from her Line—and far from the Dreaming City. From Mara.

The thought of Mara's return sends a trill of hope through her. She can almost see Mara's face framed in lilac mist.

The effect is subtle but immediate. Gently, the current of the Ley Line changes course, bringing Sjari back to her queen.

With a start, she pushes the thought of Mara out of her conscious mind. She thinks instead of stillness, of the flickering blackness of the bleak planes, of the awful limbo of being trapped between worlds.

She desires it, begs for it. And the current obliges. It calms, and Sjari floats aimlessly once more.

Better to die in this barren realm than lead the Hive back home.