"You don't understand." She's wild; she wiggles away, not yielding to the comfort, even as she clings to his hand. "What I am, when our gems break . . . when they shatter . . ."

"We die."

"They took him from me, and if he gets worse . . ."

"He'll die."

"He'll die, and I couldn't-- . . . do anything . . ."

The last words are as soft as drowning, and the deep thrums of the extra music are shuddering through her own.