Valentine's Day was creeping up, Lucy thought. Staring out the coffee shop window. The cold sleet blurred the edges of the city. A grey wash over the crowd. People's breaths puffed white in the chill air. Tiny clouds that vanished almost as soon as they formed.
She wondered if she'd still be in a relationship by then. Or if she'd shattered what she had with Peril during their last conversation.
Lucy sipped her coffee—too expensive. The cheaper green tea was still preferred. Aurum would be here soon anyway.
She reflected on the past 48 hours.
Leaving Peril’s apartment to go back to her own the morning after their chat had already been the plan. But the weight of it hung between them. They'd cried together. Peril said it felt like Lucy was leaving her for good. Lucy assured her that wasn't the case. That their relationship was solid. Unshakable.
They'd exchanged messages since then. Peril was usually so self-assured. She seemed uncertain, almost needy. It was unlike her. The talk had still cut her – them – deeply. The wounds would take time to heal.
Another sip. Lucy wouldn't normally set foot in a place like this. But Aurum had insisted on the location.
She suspected a reprimand was coming. When she’d left Lucy had noticed that Aurum was scheduled to cook Peril’s lunch. Worse - Lioncourt was on the docket for cooking dinner.
Aurum would chew her out. Lioncourt might do worse.
She took another sip. Trying to push that thought aside. To distract herself she pulled up the Riverside News on her datapad.
The criminal underworld was taking hits. Odd ones. Supply chains disrupted. Key players eliminated. It was surgical. No discernible pattern. But the effects were clear.
Drug dealers found their money launderers dead. Suppliers refusing to risk deliveries. Organ harvesters lost their transport and carry contacts overnight.
Lucy suspected Peril's hand in this. But she'd had the chance to ask, chosen not to.
She remembered an old show from her childhood—an aged billionaire cum former superhero mentoring a young protégé. Corny sure. But the idea stuck. Was Peril the rich playgirl behind-the-scenes pulling strings? Using Lioncourt as a lethal vigilante to slice through the city's underbelly? A French Dark Knight cutting through the night, striking fear into the hearts of criminals.
Lucy had seen the bodies after Christmas. At the time it seemed like Lioncourt was on a random kill spree that happened to target criminals. She’d even considered if he was simply saving for another sports car. Maybe it wasn't so random after all.
It sounded absurd. But Peril was a romantic.
Lucy reminded herself yet again: these were questions she could have asked - but didn't. She cursed her wandering mind for trying to solve questions she didn’t want answers to.
Aurum came into view—a massive presence in a tailored suit. The large umbrella looked dainty in his grasp. He navigated the tables with surprising grace. His gaze scanning the room.
As before, the surrounding tables were reserved. Giving them a bubble of privacy. He signalled the waiter for coffee before settling into the chair across from her. The seat creaking under his weight. He set two white noise generators on the table once again. Their soft hum filling the space between them.
"Skadi, when you said you wanted the electronic security learnsoft, I was pleased," he began sliding a sleek data chip across to her.
He was glaring just a little despite the seemingly warm words. Clearly unhappy. But keeping it professional.
Lucy met his gaze. She was unhappy with herself too.
"Skadi," he started again hesitating. "You can't go in that hard with Peril. You just can't."
"I know," she said quietly.
He sighed. A deep rumble. "I haven't seen her like this in a long time."
She nodded saying nothing.
"You should count yourself lucky that Lioncourt took it upon himself to patch things up," Aurum continued. "He considers it his gentlemanly duty apparently to bring you two lovebirds closer together again."
She raised an eyebrow. "Lioncourt said that?"
"He did. I even told Peril that you accepting this chip means you've forgiven her completely."
He leaned forward the table seeming small between them. "But I'm Street. Like you, Skadi. Not a idealist or dreamer. I know that if someone's bailing on a relationship - they take the diamond ring with them."
She tilted her head. "Meaning?"
"We both know this chip isn't standard issue. It's expert-level corporate. Peril spent days stripping out the booby traps. The proprietary code which would fry your brain. This is valuable. Sure it requires someone with that super-expensive chunk of chrome you have in your head to fully use. But the black-market resale value of this thing, stripped of its defences as it is now. Possibly enough to retire on. Possibly enough to get someone thinking - that they could ghost-away, live off the proceeds."
"Worth a lot," he emphasised. "The diamond ring. If you're planning to ghost her. Street says you'd take the chip and disappear."
She stayed silent letting him speak his piece.
He fixed her with a hard stare. "I want you to know Skadi—new face and all—if you ghost after taking this. There's nowhere you can hide. Nowhere that would be far enough. No hole dark enough. Forget Lioncourt. I'll find you myself."
Lucy sipped her coffee. He really was terrifying when he wanted to be, she thought. Meeting his gaze steadily. "Peril is fortunate to have a friend like you, Aurum. I understand your concerns. You're mistaken. Accepting this chip is my way of showing her I've forgiven her."
She set the cup down gently. "I love her deeply."
Aurum studied her for a moment before leaning back. "All right."
He shifted gears. "So, the chip. When can you be ready for electronic security jobs?"
Her internal AI was already crunching the numbers. The file size was immense, but storage wasn't the issue. The cognitive load was.
She'd need to downgrade several of her current learnsofts from ‘reinforcement mode’ to ‘latent’ or deactivate them entirely. Running multiple reinforcement cycles consumed significant processing power.
Her AI projected a timeline. Twenty-four days. Lucy’s astonished, never before contemplated something that large. She added a buffer for additional cooldown periods.
"A month," she said.
He raised an eyebrow. "Really? I thought with your system you'd process it in two weeks."
Lucy could. On max settings. But that's... very unwise, she thought. Would be waking at 2am in the morning with all her apartments electronics disassembled and wondering why she had a screwdriver in her hands.
She shrugged in answer to his question.
Aurum gave a curt nod. "A month it is. Expect my call."
He paused. "And Skadi—sort out any moral questions you have before I call. This is deep shadow work. No more skirting the edges. When I call in a month, I’m not debating jobs with you, or discussing your personal boundaries."
She nodded. "Understood." Yes, she had a month to come to terms with that choice too.
Aurum stood. The chair scraping against the floor. Without another word he turned and made his way out the other patrons casting sidelong glances at his imposing figure.
Lucy exhaled slowly. She glanced at her datapad; a new message had come in during their meeting.
Ceri: Lethanda I need you online tonight if possible. Guild meeting. I really need your voice and support.
Ceri: TPK. It’s not good.
She frowned. Total Party Kill. Even the words sent a chill through her.
*
The chill air of the Spine Mountains wrapped around Lethanda like an old cloak. Its crispness invigorating her senses. The scent of pine mingled with the distant whispers of snow-capped peaks. Each breath a reminder of the wild beauty that surrounded her.
Hati padded beside her, his massive paws leaving faint imprints on the frost-kissed ground. His fur shimmered with ethereal light tendrils of mist weaving through the silver strands. The occasional crackle of lightning rolled through his coat.
She glanced down at him a smile touching her lips. "Ready for another adventure?" His only response was a low contented growl eyes gleaming with anticipation.
Her happiness was twofold today. Before logging on she'd found an envelope waiting on her doorstep marked in exquisitely crafted handwriting: "Important; apprends ça d'abord!".
Inside was a learnsoft chip labelled ‘Sensual Oil Massage Techniques – Expert’. Lucy had chuckled, shaking her head. "Peril you're right—Lioncourt is an old pervert," she mused aloud. The thought of using it warmed her. This is possibly just what they needed. A playful spark that might ease the tension that had lingered between them.
She'd scanned the learnsoft’s surprisingly extensive content, noting the cycle time—6 hours of learning. 2 hours of AI co-processing and cooldown time. Manageable before diving into the electronic security learnsoft she'd planned to slot if she was still to hit her planned one month deadline with Aurum. "Might as well enjoy some... extracurricular education," she’d smirked.
A sudden resonant howl pulled her back to the present. Hati's voice echoed across the games starting zone. A majestic sound that turned heads. New players—fresh-faced adventurers just beginning their journeys—stopped in their tracks. Eyes wide at the sight of seasoned warriors returning to where it all began.
"Enjoying making an entrance are we?" Lethanda teased the wolf.
Hati huffed. A plume of mist escaping his muzzle.
The village of Esterell lay ahead. Its quaint cottages and cobblestone paths a stark contrast to the rugged wilderness. Yet today a shadow hung over it. Six of their guildmates had fallen—cut down and forced to start anew. The weight of it pressed on her as she approached a familiar tavern.
Pushing open the heavy wooden door she was met with a cacophony of voices. The warmth of the hearth battled the chill she'd brought in. The scent of spiced ale and roasted meats filling the air. Laughter and raised voices mingled but there was an undercurrent of tension.
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At the bar Piopei was engaged in a heated exchange with a strikingly beautiful human warlock man—Kardrill she realised. Noting the extra 'l' in his name. The off-tank Barbarian was back. Albeit in a new form, and a new class.
"Tell me what happened guys," Lethanda interjected her tone firm but gentle. "And stop shouting at each other." They stopped. She’d been uncertain that would work.
Kardrill turned. His eyes flashing. "We were in the Upper Spire. Got to the Queen fight."
She suppressed a shudder. The Upper Spire—a labyrinth of twisting horrors. Sticky walls that pulsed like living flesh shadows. That whispered secrets best left unheard. She'd braved it before. But it was a place that tested even the bravest souls.
"The Queen," she prompted.
"Yeah," Kardrill continued. "We were holding our own until someone decided to take a swim in acidic blood."
Lethanda raised an eyebrow. Her mind piecing together the scenario. The Queen—a monstrous black-carapaced abomination fused to her egg-laying apparatus. Immobile but deadly. Her acidic blood forced players to stay alert. Constantly shifting positions to avoid searing pain.
"And then?" she asked.
Piopei sighed. "He panicked. Stepped right into the blood. And in scrambling out, got smacked by her arm sweep."
"The one that's as subtle as a thunderclap?" Lethanda remarked dryly.
"Exactly," Kardrill snapped. "He got launched into the eggs."
She winced. The eggs lining the room were a death sentence. Disturb one and you unleashed a horde of vicious minions— eight-legged rapid little face-huggers that overwhelmed even the sturdiest defences.
"He died instantly," Piopei said. "Then the eggs hatched. Chaos. Three more down before we could blink."
"I called it. I called it then. For everyone to use their escapes," Piopei insisted. "Me and the ranger bailed."
Kardrill's eyes narrowed. "You didn't call loud enough. Half of us didn't even know what was happening. You hung us out to dry."
Lethanda considered this. At level 40 every class had gained an escape ability. Cooldowns varied but the options were there. Rangers could 'play dead' every ninety seconds—a handy trick. Piopei had his 'Divine Shield'—granting invulnerability, it worked long enough to use a return-to-town astral journeystone.
"Bubble-hearth" some called it mockingly. Lethanda preferred to think of it as tactical retreat.
"So… Four dead," she summarised. "Healer and DPS escaped. Tank and remaining DPS left to face the Queen alone."
"First I knew we were in trouble was when the heals stopped," Kardrill muttered. "By then it was too late."
The tavern door swung open and Ceri stepped in. Her tiny diminutive presence commanding immediate attention. Her eyes scanned the room taking in the somber faces. Lethanda knew she’d been planning this entrance and what to say to her guildmates for the last twenty minutes.
"We've taken losses," she began her voice steady. "But we're the kind of guild that rebuilds."
A few cheers rose up. Lethanda lifted her glass in silent support but noted the lack of enthusiasm from some corners.
Arcanis sat surrounded by a cluster of whispering players. His expression troubled.
Ceri pressed on. "I propose we take a break from the levelling grind. Let's help our friends regain their footing. Join them in quests. Share resources. These things happen on a hardcore server—we need to stick together."
Arcanis finally spoke. His tone measured. "But we're so close Ceri. Most of us are level 76 or 77 now. The cap is within reach. Endgame dungeons. Epic gear—we can't lose momentum now."
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd. The allure of reaching level 80. Of being among the first to breach the Gates—the very namesake of their journey—was palpable.
"I get that we can help a little," Arcanis continued. "But we should also recruit more endgame-ready players. We can't slow down the guild's progress."
Ceri's composure faltered slightly. "Are you suggesting we leave our own behind?"
He shook his head. "No. Not at all. But we have to be realistic. We've made enormous strides. We were once a 'carebear' guild. But now we're leading the pack. A leading edge guild on this server. Do we really want to jeopardise that?"
Kurgrim slammed his tankard down. "This guild never leaves its own behind!"
A chorus of agreements and dissent erupted. Lethanda glanced at Piopei who nodded. "Kurgrim's right!" she shouted over the din. Hati barked in solidarity.
Arcanis held up his hands. "Look, I'll be transparent. I've been approached by another guild."
A hush fell. This wasn't entirely unexpected; good players were always in demand.
"If we're not going to push forward," he said slowly "and we're reverting to old ‘carebear’ ways then I'm sorry—I have to consider my options."
Ceri looked stricken. "You'd leave?"
He met her gaze. "If things don't change. Yes."
The weight of his words hung heavily. A founding member contemplating departure was a blow.
Lethanda felt a pang of guilt. She'd been distant lately. Wrapped up in her own exploration world. Stroking Hati's fur she wondered how deeply all this would cut if she'd been more present. As it is she feels a curious detachment.
Ceri's eyes pleaded silently for support. The room buzzed with uncertainty.
Taking a deep breath Lethanda stepped forward. "Everyone listen."
All eyes turned to her.
"We have two paths ahead. Ceri is an incredible leader—I stand by her wholeheartedly. But leadership only works if we're willing to follow. And that requires a shared vision."
She locked eyes with Arcanis. "I get the allure of the endgame. Trust me. I do. But what makes this guild special isn't just the race to the top—it's how we treat each other along the way."
A few nods. She pressed on.
"Ceri's laid out a path that emphasizes both progress and camaraderie. I'm choosing to follow that path."
Ceri's face softened. Gratitude shining through. But Lethanda could see the fear lingering—the worry that the guild might fracture regardless.
*
Darkness enveloped the loft. Pierced only by the faint glow of city lights filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Snow drifted lazily outside. Silent against the backdrop of the urban sprawl.
"I can't move," Peril murmured, her voice muffled slightly under the bed covers they both were snuggled under. She added with a soft giggle, "I'm so exhausted."
Lucy nestled closer. Her movements almost imperceptible as she wrapped an arm around Peril's waist. "I thought massages were supposed to be relaxing," she whispered, a smile playing on her lips.
Peril let out a contented sigh. "Apparently not when you're involved."
A comfortable silence settled between them. Lucy pressed a gentle kiss to the back of Peril's neck. Her lips barely grazing the skin.
Peril gazed out at the snowflakes spiralling downward. "I think I've found my happy place again," she said quietly.
"Glad to hear it," Lucy replied.
Peril shifted slightly. "I'm going to have to start stretching more. Everything aches. How can something so fun be so... exhausting?"
Lucy chuckled. "Occupational hazard."
"Is that what it is?" Peril teased.
"Could be."
Lucy considers the thin warm form in her arms, “I’m just happy you were able to keep eating well.”
Peril turned her head slightly. Catching a glimpse of Lucy's serene expression. "They made me eat," she admitted. "I'm terrible about that anyway. But they forced me to have my meals on time."
"I'm just happy you were taking care of yourself," Lucy said softly.
Peril felt the warmth of another kiss on her neck. "Thank you for not giving up on me," she whispered. "I've lost girlfriends before when... when that happens. Some people just don't know what to do."
Lucy tightened her embrace. "I love you," she whispered.
Peril smiled. "I love you too."
Minutes passed. The rhythm of their breathing syncing. The muffled sounds of the city below served as a distant lullaby.
"At least you didn't leave me for your online lover," Peril said suddenly, a playful tone in her voice.
Lucy laughed. "Tempting as that might be."
Peril nudged her gently. "Tell me more about this guild drama. It sounds like something I can live vicariously through."
Lucy sighed. "I'm genuinely worried about Ceri. Calling for a vote was a good move, but the guild's effectively split now. Those who lose the vote might just leave out of frustration."
"How does this affect you – Lethanda, my noble ranger?" Peril giggled.
"I've got friends on both sides," Lucy replied. "People I care about. I'm one of the leading players about to hit level 80. The new zones look incredible. Hati and I still have so much to explore."
"As long as Ceri, Kurgrim and Piopei are around I'm happy."
"And Arcanis?" Peril's voice took on a mock horror tone; "The splitter!"
Lucy shook her head. "Ceri will never forgive him if the guild fractures. Our direct messages are full of her venting about him. She's blaming it all on him."
"Is that fair?"
"Not entirely," Lucy admitted. "He's expressing what a lot of us feel. We all want to reach the endgame. Hit that mythical level 80."
"So you can't fault him."
"Exactly. I'd still team up with him if the guild splits. Things change. Evolve. Our guild did too. I think Ceri holds certain values and can't see that change is sometimes necessary—even normal."
Peril was quiet for a moment. "That wasn't just about Ceri was it?"
Lucy hesitated. "No it wasn't. I've been thinking about the choices I've made with Aurum. How far I've come since that first meeting. I can't criticise Ceri for resisting change without acknowledging my own transformation."
"Are you ready for it?" Peril asked softly. "Really ready to step into the shadows?"
"Not right now," Lucy replied. "I have a month to come to terms with it." She gave a light laugh. "Sometimes I feel like I should take my moral compass outside and bury it. Hold some kind of ceremony."
Peril turned slightly to face her. "No, you shouldn't. The things we hold onto are important. Ceri's view of the guild is rooted in her values. She might rebuild it. Make better choices. Clarify those values better with her new guildmates and followers."
"Little miss insightful," Lucy teased.
Peril shrugged a faint blush colouring her cheeks. "Values are... they're the core reasons why we do things. You shouldn't discard them just to pay your rent. Even in darkness you must kindle light."
Lucy pressed her forehead against Peril's shoulder. "You're a romantic."
"Maybe," Peril conceded, then snuggled in more.
Silence settled again. Lucy's mind drifted back to her first kill. The desperate choices that led her down this path. Aurum's words echoed: "You're Street." He wasn't wrong. There were realities Peril couldn't fully grasp— a choice between selling your body for money, or being a bounty hunter. All because the rent bill is due. She loved Peril deeply. But some things were hard to explain to bridge the gap between their worlds.
Values, Lucy thought, as she pushed touched her lips to the back of Peril’s thin neck. She couldn’t stop it coming to her again. Peril’s hands were drenched in blood, while she spoke of values.
The small woman in her arms might not be capable of even lifting Lioncourt’s heavily suppressed gun. But she directed it. The instigator, the selector of targets. If Lioncourt was simply a weapon. Peril was the one pulling the trigger.
She tried not to think of it. It was hard. Compartmentalisation. The word came unbidden to her.
Peril had used it earlier, yes, a word from her Marine training about operational security. But word was also used in her relationship learnsoft. Others came to her too; cognitive dissonance, moral disengagement, more. The relationship vocabulary flowed over her with definitions as well. Authors cited.
Peril started gently snoring in her arms; utterly spent.
She’d not wanted answers. Peril had given her the chance to ask anything. Wilful ignorance; the word came unbidden. Was she actively avoiding a full confrontation with the truth as it might lead to a breakdown in their relationship? Because the answers to the questions might be too painful?
Peril spoke of values, but Lucy was refusing to ask Peril what her values were. What has led her to direct a sociopathic mass murderer to hand out lethal vigilante justice across the city? To the criminal underworld?
These were the questions that Peril had expected, Lucy realised. These were the ones she had been prepared for in the dinner talk. Lucy’s concentration on relationship questions had been a surprise to her.
Lucy slightly tightened her embrace of her lover in her arms. Smelt her freshly showered hair.
Was Lucy now part of this. Was she even an ‘enabler’? Her acceptance, silence and lack of questions about the morality of Peril’s actions could… No, be honest Lucy, she thought. Would. Would be interpreted by her as emotional support and approval.
Lucy went into her AI and contemplated completely deactivating the relationship learnsoft. She’d start to forget it, like any skill, over time. It’d stay for her for months. But all the knowledge would slowly fade – eventually - if unused. It was still one of the few learnsofts she’d intended on leaving in ‘latent mode’ after she’d uploaded the electronic security expert-level learnsoft tomorrow.
Would turning it off completely be the final sign of her active denial?