Lucy stood over the mercenary's body, the kitchen knife slick with his blood. The improvised weapon had done its job. Her eyes scanned his gear. Taking his gun would be an amateur mistake—it had a bio-lock and might fry her if she tried.
His body armour was three sizes too big.
She spotted a knife on his hip. Jet-black Smith & Wesson Ka-Bar. The Marine training embedded in her approved. Never argue with the classics.
Heavier than her Arnis knives, but just as deadly. Razor sharp.
She glanced back at Peril down the hallway. They'd descended twenty stories in a mad rush, now in some open-plan offices.
Lioncourt had reactivated his arm blades once they exited the club. All Lucy had found was a sharp bread knife in an office kitchenette—probably used by some corporate drone for sandwiches.
Lioncourt was roaming ahead—'recon’, he called it. Playing with his food, more like. The bastard seemed to enjoy this.
She couldn't entirely blame him. Even armed, the merc she'd just taken down hadn't stood a chance. She'd been on him at max speed before he realised, sinking her knife into five major arteries, finishing with a thrust under the chin.
She messaged Peril on their encrypted backchannel. No need for sounds.
Skadi: Clear. Move closer quietly.
Peril: I'm so sorry, Lucy.
Not the time for apologies. She needed to keep Peril focused. If Peril crashed now, Lucy would have to carry her, complicating everything.
Truth was, Lucy needed a break too. Her systems were aching from constant use. She'd been pushing the subsystems into max recovery modes whenever possible.
But her muscles throbbed. Her back especially. She'd be seeing Terrance about strained or torn muscles tomorrow if they lived.
Skadi: This MNA again? They still hunting you?
Peril: No. Unlikely. KuehneX-MaerFed Logistics.
Lucy halted. K-x-MF where behind this?
Skadi: What does a global logistics company want with you?
Peril: You need to keep up with the news, my love. Their entire system got locked this morning in a massive ransomware attack. Completely shut out.
Skadi: You? They're after you for doing this?
Peril sent an innocent emoji.
Peril: Not me, actually. Brilliant job, but not mine.
Peril: Anyway, not K-x-MF directly. They have insurance against this. Lloyds of London. Massive cyberattack insurance policy.
Peril: The loss-adjusters there contacted me to unlock the K-x-MF systems. I told them no.
Skadi: What did you say to make them this angry?
Peril forwarded her response.
Skadi: That's an anatomically impressive suggestion.
Lucy chuckled softly.
A tightly planned abduction for Peril's skills. Corporate forced recruitment wasn't unheard of, but usually the stuff of bad vids.
Skadi: Seems extreme just to get you to unlock the K-x-MF systems.
Peril: They're losing billions an hour. In six hours, markets open. They'll have to report what's happening. Tankers circling the Atlantic with no destinations. Logistics networks halted. Their shares will free-fall. Market chaos.
Peril: It’ll be one of the biggest insurance claims in corporate history if that happens. The loss-adjusters for the insurers will do almost anything to avoid that. They’re not above using heavy-handed tactics.
Skadi: Why not just pay the ransom?
Peril: Not that simple. The hacker wants more than cash. Has an agenda. Ideologically motivated, you could say.
Time to move. They needed to reach the east stairwell. The chat had refocused Peril; she seemed steadier now.
The stairwell was plush—steel and glass. Not bad for whoever owned this floor. Looked like a law firm or similar.
The lack of light would have made it impossible for the unaugmented, but her low-light vision picked out two figures approaching from below, SMGs leading.
She motioned for Peril to hide under a table then took position to drop down on them. Her analysis modules showed both had combat reactionware—slower than hers. She lacked whatever modules gave Lioncourt exact data on their speed.
She'd need to ask him about that. Useful info. Terrance had warned her: "No more headware. No more space in that pretty head of yours." Other body cyberware was fine, but a Tactical AI probably counted as headware.
Something to discuss when he looked at her latest muscle tears. Her left wrist was now adding itself to the list of aches. He'd probably suggest more synth-muscle replacements, more ligament nanofibers.
It was a slippery slope. These systems could handle multiple activations, but the human body had limits.
Briefly, she wondered if she was becoming a cyber-junkie. Chasing every edge. Would she end up like Lioncourt? She suspected there wasn't much of the old man left.
The moment arrived. She leapt over the railing, systems red-lining again, Ka-Bar in hand.
*
Lucy leaned against a concrete pillar in the dim parking garage, her breaths shallow and measured. Every movement sent a jolt of pain through her back.
Her right shoulder screaming in silent agony. She recalled a moment during the chaos — a sharp twang — and everything below her right elbow had gone numb.
Across the garage Lioncourt cradled Peril in his arms with effortless grace. The night's ordeal had caught up with her; Peril had shut down completely amid the hail of bullets and flashing blades.
Too much sensory overload, too real. She was locked inside herself now.
Whoever expected her to salvage KuehneX-MaerFed Logistics before markets opened would be sorely disappointed. It would, by Lucy’s estimation, take at least a day of calm before Peril could function again.
They were deep beneath the building, surrounded by shadows and silence. Lioncourt's so-called ‘recon’ had cleared out the strike team below, but he'd grown wary.
"The SWAT team showed up," he’d murmured, his eyes scanning the dark corners. "But they didn't pursue the mercs inside."
Lucy watched him, almost envious. Despite the dust, blood, and God-knows-what else covering him, he moved as if untouched by fatigue.
"Ce n'est plus de la paranoïa quand ils cherchent réellement à te nuire," he’d said with a wry smile.
"No chance of safety in reaching police lines, then?" she’d asked, her voice taut.
He’d shook his head. "Non." Instead, an encrypted call to Aurum.
They'd pulled up floor plans, schematics of the sub-basements. The building connected to two others, though officially they were separate. Lioncourt had a hunch.
"Le même constructeur," he noted. "At one point, the only thing separating the garages is about two feet of concrete."
He led them to an unremarkable wall on the second sub-level. Without a word, he extended his massive arm blades and began to punch through. The sound was visceral—metal tearing into stone, relentless. Lucy watched, half in awe, half in weariness.
Minutes later, a rough passage yawned before them. Only high-end cyberlimbs could have carved through so quickly, so relentlessly. She couldn't help but wonder yet again how much of Lioncourt was still flesh.
Now, they waited in the adjacent building's sub-basement, the cold seeping in. An armoured car from Aurum was en route.
Lioncourt glanced at her, breaking the heavy silence. "The implants," he began softly. "Don't fret over them too much. C'est normal. With reactionware."
She managed a tired smile. "Do I look that bad? Need a pep talk?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Sérieusement, I can see you're exhausted. I've witnessed it many times — those muscles that will fail under strain go first. But replace them. Ça s'améliorera."
She studied him. Concrete dust clung to his clothes, mingling with streaks of blood. Yet he didn't seem winded.
"Easy when you don't have muscles to tear," she muttered.
He chuckled lightly. "Advantages of modern upgrades. Je suis un témoignage vivant de la science."
She felt a pang of guilt. Lioncourt was trying to comfort her, and here she was resenting him. He'd taken down most of the strike team himself. His instincts had likely saved them from walking into a trap.
"My lady," he said gently, his eyes sincere. "Tonight, you've been a chevalier en armure étincelante for your paramour. An old romantic like me can't help but be impressed."
Her HUD flashed an update from his Tactical AI: Extraction vehicle arriving in 120 seconds.
"Thank you," she whispered, her gaze dropping to Peril's peaceful face.
"We can't take her home," she said aloud. "Where do we go?"
Lioncourt's eyes twinkled. "Don't you worry. Her apartment is secure — Pratiquement une forteresse. But no need to test our defences tonight. Nous avons un plan."
Headlights sliced through the gloom as a black limo rolled into view. Long wheelbase, but not ostentatious. Heavy plating, judging by the way it moved — a tank masquerading as a car. In a city like this, it blended seamlessly.
Lioncourt opened the door, carefully settling Peril inside. Lucy followed, her movements deliberate despite the pain.
He addressed the driver smoothly. "Take us to the Aegis Paramount by Grand Astra. The presidential suite awaits."
The driver nodded without a word.
As they pulled away, the city's neon glow washed over them. Lucy stared out the window, her reflection fragmented against the passing lights.
"Rest," Lioncourt advised softly. "You'll need it."
She nodded, closing her eyes. The hum of the engine was a lullaby, the leather seat embracing her weary body.
"Tonight was... intense," she murmured.
"En effet," he agreed. "Mais nous avons réussi à surmonter cela. Tonight we played heroes. Sauver la princesse."
She opened her eyes slightly. "Lioncourt, do you ever get tired?"
He smiled faintly. "Pas comme je le faisais autrefois. But exhaustion comes in many forms."
She considered that. "Peril will be okay?"
"Oui. She just needs time."
Silence settled between them. The city rushed by, oblivious to their struggles.
"Thank you," she said again.
He glanced at her, a hint of surprise. "For what?"
"For everything. For getting us out."
He shrugged modestly. "C'est ce que je fais.”
She smirked. "Ever the gentleman."
"Toujours. Always," he replied, his accent wrapping around the word like silk.
*
"I must say, I feel honoured, Lady Lethanda," the young ranger's voice trembled slightly betraying her nerves.
They walked side by side through the snow. The world around them hushed and pristine.
"Young ranger," Lethanda breathed in the crisp mountain air. The scent of pine and distant fires filling her senses. The cold tingled on her skin, invigorating her. "Nothing could give me greater pleasure than guiding someone new to our realm and to ranger-ing on the first steps of their journey."
Pakhet hesitated. Her gaze drifting to Lethanda's formidable gear. Her eyes lingered on the simple bow slung across Lethanda's back as if sensing its immense power. The armour bore the marks of battles against the deadliest monsters in the most treacherous lands.
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"I feel almost like a burden," she admitted softly. "For someone such as you. I'm blessed, truly, and grateful for your mentorship."
Lethanda laughed lightly, scooping up a handful of snow and tossing it playfully at the back of Pakhet's head. The snowflake's cold touch melted against her fingers. "There," she said with a warm smile. "Let that break the mystery between us. I laugh; I love the chill of the air. I was once as you are now."
She brushed a stray snowflake from her eyelashes. The delicate touch a gentle reminder of simpler times. "And no more of this 'Lady' business," she continued. "I wouldn't have agreed to guide a young ranger if I wanted airs and graces. I am Lethanda, and you are Pakhet. A noble name, to be sure — a huntress's name."
Pakhet's cheeks flushed. "Thank you... Lethanda."
"Now, young ranger, let's go forth and strike a little justice into this world." She whistled softly and Hati, her mighty spirit wolf companion, emerged from the shadows, his fur glistening like silver under the starlight. He let out a howl into the crisp night sky. The sound echoing across the silent peaks.
"What quest has your trainer set for you?" Lethanda asked, adjusting the strap of her quiver. The familiar weight comforting against her back.
"I'm to kill twelve boars for the farmer folk, for the feast they have coming up," Pakhet said, toying nervously with her bowstring, clearly embarrassed by the simplicity of her task compared to Lethanda's grandeur.
"A fine and noble quest for a Ranger," Lethanda responded with genuine warmth. "Putting hearty food on people's tables."
A light snowfall began. Flakes drifting lazily from the sky. Lethanda caught one on her lips, its fleeting chill dissolving into warmth. They walked toward a field where docile boars grazed, their breaths visible in the cold air.
Pakhet set about her task, her movements earnest but unrefined. She knew only a couple of types of shots, but the boars fell quickly under her arrows.
Lethanda leaned against a frost-covered tree, watching. She'd forgotten how beautiful the night stars were from here — each one a pinprick of light piercing the velvet darkness. She snuggled closer to Hati, the warmth of his fur seeping into her. This had been a good choice, she decided. A return to the roots of what she loved of Baraadon.
Unwanted thoughts surfaced. Battles fought, monsters slain. Guild drama. Friends lost. The weight of her armour wasn't just physical; it carried memories she'd rather forget.
Blood on her hands, the echo of dying breaths. She pushed the images away, focusing instead on the soft crunch of snow beneath her boots, the gentle whisper of the wind.
"You're doing well," she called out to Pakhet, her voice steady.
"Thank you," Pakhet replied, a hint of pride shining through.
Lethanda smiled softly, letting herself be enveloped by the simple beauty of the moment—the taste of winter on her tongue, the touch of the cold air on her face, the sight of a young ranger finding her path.
*
The troll cave loomed before them a gaping maw carved into the mountainside. It exhaled a chill that danced along their skin. The scent of damp earth mingled with something more pungent — a musky odour that clung to the back of the throat.
Lethanda smiled softly, wrinkles forming at the bridge of her nose as she wrinkled it against the familiar stench.
"Well, this place sure is one only a Troll could love," Pakhet quipped, her eyes flicking toward Lethanda with a mischievous glint.
Lethanda chuckled lightly, the sound blending with the whisper of the wind through the pines. "Trolls aren't known for their interior decorating skills."
Pakhet had begun to shed her initial reservations. The formalities peeling away like bark from a tree. Lethanda appreciated this blossoming confidence; it was a sign that the young ranger was finding her own footing.
"Do you think they charge an admission fee?" Pakhet added, twirling an arrow between her fingers. "I'd hate to be rude guests."
"Only if you consider not becoming their dinner rude," Lethanda replied, her eyes sparkling.
Now was the time for a bit of guidance, Lethanda thought. Let's not make the same mistakes I did here.
"Let's hold for a moment, Pakhet," she said, kneeling to gather kindling. With practiced ease, she struck flint to steel, and a small flame blossomed, growing into a welcoming fire. She murmured an incantation under her breath; a soft glow encircled them as her Ranger's Sanctuary enveloped the clearing, ensuring they wouldn't be disturbed.
Pakhet settled down across from her, extending her hands toward the flames. The warmth seeped into her fingers, chasing away the mountain's chill.
Lethanda noted with satisfaction that she was embracing the moment, letting the sensations of the world sink in.
"As a young ranger, I made a deadly mistake around here," Lethanda began, tossing a twig into the fire. It crackled, sending a spiral of sparks into the night sky. The smoke curled upward, carrying whispers of memories she'd rather forget.
Pakhet looked up, her curiosity evident. "What happened?"
"I was captivated by the dark side of our powers," Lethanda admitted, her gaze distant. The shadows around them seemed to deepen. She could almost feel the weight of past choices pressing against her.
"I've been troubled by the choices in front of me," Pakhet said softly. "I'm at a key junction. I see two paths ahead: a dark path, where I could infuse my bow with shadows and unholy power, and a path of becoming one with nature, working alongside an animal companion."
Lethanda smiled gently, snuggling into Hati's thick fur. The great wolf rested beside her, his eyes reflecting the dancing flames. As her fingers ruffled his coat, sparks of lighting flickered, mingling with the firelight.
"Yes, the dark side," Lethanda mused. "That was my initial choice."
"You chose the dark?" Pakhet asked, eyebrows arching in surprise. It was hard to reconcile the image of this serene ranger, harmoniously bonded with her spirit wolf, having ever walked a darker path.
"Is it that astonishing?" Lethanda laughed lightly. "The power it offers, the promise of quick victories — it all seemed so appealing. I buried myself in manuals and ancient tomes that spoke of harnessing the shadows for swift riches."
"But, Pakhet," she continued, her voice softening. She met the young ranger's eyes across the fire, the glow illuminating the earnest concern in them.
"Let me tell you the truth. Those tomes, those manuals—they're penned by individuals who forget that not everyone is ready to face such darkness. They were written by those who cared only for diving into the deepest dungeons, far from the lands we’re in now. For conquering the deadliest foes without a thought for the journey to get there. They overlook that some are just starting out, without seasoned companions or a thirst for peril."
She leaned forward, the fire casting shadows across her face. "We’re all on a journey, just as you are. All Rangers will at some point dabble in the darkness."
Pakhet nodded slowly, absorbing her words.
"And now, young Pakhet, my advice—gained from making all the wrong choices," Lethanda said with a wry smile. "Choose the way of nature for now."
She gestured toward the eastern horizon, where the first hints of moonlight silvered the peaks. "To our east, in just a few minutes, a rare snow leopard will emerge from his cave. Hrimfang is his name. Go — leave Hati and me to enjoy the fire. Return when you've tamed this mighty snow cat."
Lethanda reached into her satchel retrieving a small bundle. She tossed it to Pakhet who caught it deftly. Inside there was fresh meat wrapped in leaves and a couple of gleaming vials.
"Just in case it's harder than you expect," Lethanda added, with a wink.
Pakhet grinned. Excitement lighting up her features. "Well, taming legendary creatures before bedtime wasn't on my agenda, but who am I to refuse?"
"That's the spirit," Lethanda replied, warmth filling her chest.
Pakhet stood, securing the gifts in her own satchel at her side. "Any tips?"
"Trust your instincts," Lethanda said. "And remember — sometimes the quiet approach speaks louder than words."
"Got it," Pakhet nodded. "See you soon."
As the young ranger disappeared into the shadows Lethanda leaned back, the tension easing from her shoulders. The fire crackled softly. The flames painting flickering patterns on the surrounding trees. Hati shifted beside her, his steady breathing a comforting rhythm.
She inhaled deeply, savouring the crisp night air tinged with pine and the faint hint of snow. The taste of winter lingered on her tongue. The stars overhead pierced the velvet darkness, each one a distant beacon.
Unwanted memories stirred—the weight of past battles with her guildmates, the cold efficiency of power claimed but without purpose. She recalled the many recent times when victory felt hollow, achievements marred by a disconnection from the world around her.
Those moments when the game mechanics overshadowed the story, reducing rich experiences to mere calculations.
They’d been far too many of those moments lately for her liking.
But she pushed those thoughts aside, letting the tranquillity of the moment envelop her. Here, by the fire, under the endless sky, she felt grounded. Alive.
"Perhaps," she murmured to Hati, scratching behind his ear, "guiding Pakhet will help me find my own path again."
The wolf tilted his head, storm-filled eyes reflecting her own.
She smiled, allowing herself to simply be — to feel the warmth of the flames, the solidity of the earth beneath her, the gentle caress of the night breeze. In this quiet space, she found a semblance of peace.
And so, she waited, trusting that Pakhet's journey would be as enlightening for the young ranger as it was for herself.
*
Lucy slowly disconnected. The world of pixels fading as reality seeped back in. She lay sprawled on an oversized king bed. Luxury enveloping her. Moving her arm ignited a blaze of pain; even reaching to remove the headset was almost too much.
Peril was awake, up and about — recovering faster than Lucy had anticipated. They'd only been at the hotel twelve hours; Lucy had thought she'd be out for the day.
Peril sat on a spacious sofa. Three news vids playing simultaneously while she tapped away on multiple datapads sprawled across her lap.
Lucy tried to rise but failed. Her lower back was a furnace of pain. Every nerve-ending aflame.
Terrance had come and gone within an hour of their arrival. She hadn't known he made house-calls. The cooling gels and muscle relaxants he'd administered were working. Lucy wondered how she'd feel without them.
Lioncourt had left. She suspected that now Peril was safe, he'd gone hunting — a knife gliding through the night.
Peril heard her strained noises and moved over. She picked up a tub of gel, applied it gently, then pressed an airhypo against Lucy's skin, delivering more muscle relaxants.
"Shhh," Peril whispered. The gel soothed. Dulling the edges of the pain.
Lucy had escaped into Gates of Baraadon to dull the worst of it. She'd spent hours de-stressing with Pakhet, the young ranger.
The game was in a content drought. The Fellowship had the latest raids on farm status. Six months until the next expansion. Several guild members had signed off, saying they'd be back when the expansion dropped. Burnout. Fatigue. Possible boredom. Or maybe just a mix of them all.
Even Arcanis mentioned he was trying a new space-based VR MMORPG that had just come out, nudging Kurgrim to join.
When she'd seen the RP event to mentor new players, she'd leapt at it — a return to what she loved. Her adventures with the spirited Pakhet had come at the right time. In more ways than one.
Her mind was still racing. She thought the game would help her crash, but the adrenaline from earlier still coursed through her. Sitting in a virtual world, feeling no danger, savouring the cold bite of digital snow — it was the timeout she needed.
"Where are you at right now, my love?" Peril's voice was soft, loving, with a hint of curiosity.
Lucy realised she'd been mumbling. "Sorry," she said. "The gel feels amazing — I zoned out for a moment."
"It's okay," Peril replied tenderly. "You're under enough muscle relaxants to tranquilize a stallion." She chuckled. "A little zoning out is expected."
"I think we're completely safe now," Peril added.
"What?" Lucy considered sitting up but thought better of it. The ceiling would have to suffice as a view for now. "Explain, please. Like I'm someone who never went to college," she quipped.
"Ouch," Peril said softly. "You're going to keep using that one, aren't you?" She teased.
"Damn right," Lucy managed a weak smile.
Peril settled beside her. "Okay, here's the rundown. An hour before markets opened, KuehneX-MaerFed Logistics announced they'd resolved their issues. In the next thirty minutes, every member of their board of directors died — though you won't find that info in the mainstream news unless you dig deep."
"Ten minutes before the market opened, a hostile takeover was announced. DynaLynxTrans Global and two other companies are slicing up K-X-MF between them."
She continued, "Buried beneath that story: all three companies secured massive funds through bond and note issues bought up at well, well below-market rates, saving them billions on the acquisition costs."
Lucy frowned. "This finance talk is over my head. Walk me through it?"
Peril offered a faint smile. "Sure. My take is, K-X-MF caved to the ransomware demands. Someone objected — took out the entire board, dismantled the company, and handed the pieces to competitors. They ensured those companies got ultra cheap financing to offset any losses from the fried hardware due to the ransomware."
"Corporate Council," Peril said.
Lucy laughed softly. "The Corporate Council is a Hollywood myth. A secret cabal of the ultra-rich pulling strings behind the scenes."
Peril looked at her intently. "Could be. But I don't buy the official story."
"Why not?"
"Clearing out the board members — all of them? They were about to comply with the ransom demands. An hour before, they were confident they'd fixed everything."
"You said the ransomers didn't want cash," Lucy recalled.
"No, they didn't," Peril said quietly.
"You know what they wanted," Lucy pressed.
Peril hesitated. "Yes... but we've put safeguards in place. Our firewall. Remember? You don’t want to know."
Lucy felt the gel easing her pain, Peril's hands methodically working it into her skin. "Yes, we did. Okay. And the loss adjuster?"
"Gone. Dealt with," Peril said firmly. "Yannus was a good man. He didn't deserve to die because some insurance company wanted to kidnap me. It's handled."
"You sure?" Lucy asked.
Peril met her gaze. "Yes. Mark Longridge of ParaSure Solutions died three hours ago. Massive cerebral haemorrhage. His BCI burned out completely — unexplained malfunction."
A flicker of fear passed through Lucy. This was the stuff of thriller vids. BCIs couldn't be hacked like that. Multiple layers of security and cut-outs prevented it.
"That's... unexpected," she managed.
Peril's expression was grim. "A friend did it. I didn’t ask them to. They were furious about what happened to us. I'm not proud of it. Or happy."
"An unwise, impulsive move on their part," Peril continued. "Typical of them."
"There'll be consequences," she said, her voice heavy. "Blowback. A lot of blowback. I have Lioncourt out there now trying to get to the body before anyone can do an autopsy. Damage control."
No kidding, Lucy thought. The idea of killing someone through a BCI over the ‘Net was terrifying. Supposedly impossible. Destabilising even.
"No more," Lucy whispered. "No more of this. Mercy. I can't handle world-changing secrets right now."
Peril nodded. "My knight in shining armour gets her way." She leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on Lucy's forehead.
"I'm going to call Ceri," Lucy said. "Wind-down by telling her about my gaming adventures. Then try to sleep."
"Good," Peril replied. "Rest. We're safe. Tomorrow, Terrance will fix up your muscles."
She stood, a hint of playfulness returning. "Just holler if you need more gel. Happy to apply it anywhere you like." She winked. "This stuff reminds me of when we tried that nuru gel massage."
Lucy smiled as Peril returned to her datapads.
She activated her BCI, connecting to Ceri on a secure line.
The connection took a few moments.
Then a nurse's face appeared.
Lucy's heart sank even before the nurse spoke.
No, not now.
Not on top of everything else.
This was too much for one day. It was unfair. Just a few more words with her friend was all she craved.
"I'm sorry," the nurse began softly.
Lucy listened, the words washing over her. Ceri was gone. But all she could think about was what she would have told her. How much Ceri would have enjoyed learning about the quippy Pakhet.
She’d so much just wanted to bring a smile to Ceri’s face.
It wasn't as crushing as she'd feared. She'd send flowers. Arrange a memorial stone. Do more.
Relief mingled with sorrow. Ceri had been in so much discomfort, even if she’d been able to avoid outright pain. Lucy was grateful she'd passed before the suffering became unbearable.
She was glad Ceri had opted for the pain editor implant years ago. Something Lucy would discuss with Terrance tomorrow. It seemed a wise investment.
A few tears traced paths down her cheeks. She'd had months to prepare for this moment. It wasn't the hammer blow she'd anticipated. Too much, yes. Too much in one day. But not unexpected.
It was more it had come at a bad time. On a bad day.
She imagined that Ceri would find that thought darkly humorous had she been able to talk to her about it. Lucy imagined telling Ceri that her death was ‘inconveniently timed’. The little gnome would be roaring in laughter she knew.
Closing the connection, she lay back, staring at the ceiling. It was like it had been the final emotional blow to send her spiralling into the abyss of unconsciousness. Her mental weariness now matched her physical.
The city hummed softly outside, neon lights casting a faint glow through the curtains.
"Rest in peace, Ceri. Guildmaster of the Fellowship of Aletra. Friend." she whispered to herself before sleep claimed her.