The spell stopped Zelda's sobbing for a moment. She hit the wall and sank to the ground, dazed. Then, she gasped for breath and began crying again, this time in an all-out panic. Instead of hugging her left arm to herself as she had been, Zelda seemed to be trying to get as far from it as possible. But when Miranda gave the order and the hitwizard moved in, Zelda was not able to stay calm.

If she'd had a clear head, she'd have understood and would be capable of controlling her fear and complying. But it simply wasn't possible, and she acted out of instinct. As Humphries carefully approached her Zelda fumbled for her wand and got a spell off. It missed the hitwizard but flung the chair into the door frame.  Humphries was trained and deft, and even though his hands shook for a moment not totally unaffected by the tragedy unfolding, he disarmed her and avoided her blows.

Humphries cast a spell and Zelda felt her limbs go heavy even as she was levitated off the floor. She could still move but only with great effort.  She continued sobbing as Humphries let her down into the bed. 

"Miranda, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I couldn't stop it," she said through choked breaths. She gasped as padded leather straps gently snaked their way around her wrists and lap. For a moment, she struggled against the sluggishness spell, but every moment exhausted her. 

She let her head fall back on the pillow for a second, trying to control her breathing. "What are you going to do?"

Her left hand remained clenched in a tightly curled fist.

Miranda was rubbing her wrist, her expression racked with a mixture of discomfort and concern as Zelda was levitated to the bed and restrained. Whatever the hell was wrong with her friend, it was magical and it was dangerous. Dangerous to others, probably dangerous to herself.

“I know.” Miranda muttered in response to the apology as the straps started to hold her down and Humphries lowered his wand. “You can go, thank you.” She nodded to the hitwizard who left the women alone in the small room.

“I’m going to do my job.” She tried to give Zelda a reassuring smile but it only served to appear patronising, unnecessary. She wasn’t going to say how Zelda had come to the right place or that she’d fix her and she’d be okay. They were empty words. Zelda needed actions, not words.