After stuffing herself full of food, Ivey leaned back against the tree to stretch out her arms and legs, a half-empty water bottle at her side. Feeling like she could conquer the world, Ivey smiled up at the sky.

Now, if only I had a warm bed and pillow.

From the corner of her eyes, she saw Seymour collect the napkins of trash, throwing them into one of the plastic bags. In her haste, she didn't even think to toss them in there, wanting only to feed her stomach.

Guiltily, her eyes met Seymour. She shifted to help, but he shook his head.

Ivey gave him a confused look.

"You can't touch anything," he explained.

"I touched the food?"

"That's different."

She waited for him to go on, to elaborate, but he didn't. Instead, after gathering all the trash, he folded up the blanket before placing it into the other plastic bag. Seymour also threw in his empty water bottle.

"Do you know what time it is?" Ivey changed topics. She took a drink of water, studying the sky. "I feel like it should be getting dark soon; however, the sun doesn't seem to think so."

The break had given Ivey some time to think about her current situation. According to her parents, it was up to her on how long she'd be staying here. In the last half hour or so, she'd gone from trying to be 'pure' and 'clean' to wondering where she was going to sleep and how she would continue to eat. On top of all that, how would she know if she'd met all requirements to get out?

"This place doesn't get dark," Seymour brought her attention back. "There are no nights. Only days."

Ivey wanted to hear more of his soothing voice. If she'd listen to it long enough, it would probably lure her to sleep—or doom.

"Seymour, how did I die?"

That actually wasn't the question she wanted to ask. She wanted to know more about there being no nights here. Unfortunately, that's not what came out.

It was also the wrong question to ask if she wanted to hear more of his voice.

Seymour paused what he was doing, debating on whether to answer. Finally, deciding on no answer, he got up, grabbing the plastic bags with one hand.

"Okay, okay, forget the ask," Ivey grabbed at his sleeves, "Don't go."

"I was just bringing you food. It's time for you to go back now."

"You didn't have to eat with me, but you did. That means you can stay with me a bit longer."

Seymour turned away from her, and Ivey's heart began to beat frantically against her chest at the thought of being alone by herself once more. She let go of his sleeves as he started walking away.

He really is leaving...

"You are to stay here with me. This is a command."

Her words stopped Seymour in his tracks.

As soon as the words left her lips, Ivey regretted them. The voice was hers, but it sounded so...unlike her—harsher, and... final. She couldn't understand where the words came from, much less why it was said.

Seymour turned around, a guarded look on his face, "Have you recovered your memories?"

Ivey couldn't read him. Is he mad? And why should I care if he is?

She shook her head, casting her eyes downward, vaguely aware of feeling ashamed, but not understanding, "No. I—I don't know why I said that."

Seymour relaxed slightly, walking over to lean against the tree he had been eating under earlier.

Is he staying because I asked him to, or only because I forced him?

Ivey pulled her knees up and rested her arms around them, "Sorry. I just—I don't know what to do."

"Recover your powers. Regain your memory."

It's probably the order I'm supposed to do it in, too.

"You make it sound so easy."

"Isn't it?"

Ivey exhaled, glancing up at the sky. It always ended up like this, where he would answer her question with more questions. Why couldn't he just answer her questions for once?

But then again, Ivey studied Seymour from the corner of her eyes. If he did, he probably wouldn't be Seymour.

Ivey hesitated before asking, "Tell me a little bit...about her..."

This time it was Seymour who lowered his head, staring at the dirt. "What do you want to know?"

"How was she like? How was her personality?"

To say she wasn't curious would have been a lie. There was obviously something going on here between them, but what? And if there were, were these feelings from the past or her current feelings? Ivey could use some insights into her previous life. Maybe it'd even help answer a few questions moving forward?

It sounded like he wasn't going to answer. Or didn't want to. He was quiet for the longest time, until finally, "Weak. Vicious. She was spiteful and spoiled."

Ivey's eyes widened in his direction, mouth partially opened. Of all the things she'd expected him to say...this wasn't it. But, Seymour wouldn't lie, right? She'd been with him for this long, and he never gave off that vibe. Her gaze lowered to his hand, the one that wasn't holding anything, and watched it slowly clenched.

Ivey glanced up once more at Seymour, but even he didn't appear to notice his reaction—his attention somewhere else. Was he maybe reminiscing?

All of a sudden, Seymour straightened, as if coming back to. "It's time. I need to get back."

And there it was. Intentionally, or unintentionally, Seymour had told her everything she needed to know and what she needed to do.

"Thank you...Seymour," Ivey stood up, brushing the dirt off her shorts. It felt as if a huge weight had lifted.

Seymour gave her a peculiar look. He wasn't sure what to make of her reaction at first, but watching her a hint of a smile crossed his lips, "You're welcome."

The Spirit is supposed to guide me, right? Ivey turned her attention towards the waterfall, settling her hands against the waist, standing her ground, and issuing a challenge. So then, where was it? Was it afraid of her? Because it should be!

Bring it on!

Spoiled...vicious...weak.

They were all everything Ivey strived not to be. It wasn't her style, and never will be, because she was Ivey Link, daughter to Marcelle, sister to Draco King.

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