THIRD PERSON POINT OF VIEW
Three months since Aello's leg snapped under the weight of the fallen branch, since medics wheeled her out of the hospital and into the high-walled quiet of Psikh's mansion. Time moved in slow spills around the glowing rectangle he called a television-TV, for short. At first she'd pressed her palm to the glass, staring wide-eyed at the figures moving there, certain they were small and trapped. Now she did not wonder at its magic. She let the images pull her deep, let them carry her away from the room where she spent most of her days.
