It wasn't the fires of Hell that greeted her, and, from her body which felt like it had been stabbed, hung, drawn, quartered, and put to the rack, wheel, and chair, she felt it could not be heaven either. Blue opened her eyes, but no light reached them. Her eyeballs felt as if some mad welder had taken a blowtorch to them in order that she might never see again. She tried to sit up, but as she twisted her body, something stabbed through her chest like a bare-bladed sword. She whimpered, trying to clench her fingers into a fist, she made to strike the earth in desperation, but they could only drag through the sand...
But...
The sand wasn't painful...
She tried to laugh but a knife stuck through her, and kept her from making noise. Her hands had probably been burnt numb, her flesh was probably dangling off her bones this very moment, and the coldness she felt inside of her was death rising, and, soon...

"Blue."

That voice, Blue knew it... Seven... that girl was still alive?

"Blue? Are you alive?"

Hell, yes, I am alive, but barely, no thanks to you.

Blue tried to reply, but the dagger-thorn twisted in her chest and stole the air from her lungs. She hurt. She raised her hand to the sky and waved it around, affirmation enough.

"Blue, look," said the voice of Seven. Then, Blue felt two bony hands around her head, turning it to the side, trying to show her something.

"Blue, look," said Seven again. "The sand isn't hot anymore, look!"

"I can't..." she mustered a pained whispered, everything in front of her a dark haze. "What... is it?"

And, after a long pause, Seven replied, "Blue, there's so much of you..."