Drawing baby from her case, Zanna ran her fingers over the guitar's familiar surface, questing for cracks and dents. Finding none, she inspected the strings. One had snapped, but that was easy enough to replace. She strummed experimentally, wincing at the sound that it produced. A sort of numbness crept over her as she reached for the tuning pegs, hoping against hope.

"Hello! Is everyone okay?" A voice cut through the haze, but she didn't seem to register it as her fingers turned, and twisted, and strummed. With each sour note, panic began to build.