Estelle moved through the corridors, the mask on her face serving as both a shield and a reminder of the secrets she needed to understand. She had barely begun to settle into the rhythm of this new life when a runner came to fetch her, out of breath and looking slightly nervous. "Lily," he panted, "Alaric wants to see you. He said it’s urgent."

Curiosity piqued, Estelle thanked the runner and quickly made her way to Alaric’s office. When she arrived, Alaric was waiting, his demeanor more serious than usual. The room was dimly lit, the walls lined with maps and hastily scribbled notes—evidence of a mind constantly at work, strategizing, planning, anticipating the next move in a game where the stakes were life and death.

"Lily," Alaric greeted her with a nod, his eyes flicking briefly to the sword at her side before returning to her masked face. "I need you to accompany me on a reconnaissance mission. There have been rumors of a new weapon the regime is developing, something that could turn the tide against us. Are you up for it?”

Estelle straightened, pushing aside any lingering discomfort from her injuries. “I’m ready,” she said confidently. “My injuries aren’t serious, and I’m more than capable of handling the mission.”

Estelle felt a prickle of tension at the base of her neck. This was more than a simple mission—it was a test. Alaric's gaze was piercing, as if he were trying to see beyond the mask, beyond the persona she had adopted in this world. She met his eyes evenly, careful not to let any of her unease show.

“I want to make sure you’re not pushing yourself too hard,” he said finally. “This mission is important, but not at the cost of your well-being.”

“I appreciate the concern, but I assure you, I’m fine,” Estelle replied firmly. “I wouldn’t agree to go if I wasn’t. When do we leave?"

"Immediately," Alaric said, not breaking eye contact. "This mission is crucial, and I want to keep it small—just you, me, and one other. We need to move quickly and quietly."

Estelle nodded, though her mind raced with questions. Why had Alaric chosen her for this mission? Was it purely because of her skills, or was there something more he was looking for? And who was the third person accompanying them?

As if reading her thoughts, Alaric added, "Bran will be joining us. He's been with the resistance for years and knows the area we're heading to well. I trust his judgment."

Bran. Estelle had only seen him in passing—a tall, broad-shouldered man with a scar running down one side of his face, the kind of person who had seen too much and trusted too little. His presence on the mission only heightened the sense that this was as much a test of her loyalty as it was a reconnaissance operation.

With that, the three of them set off, moving quickly through the shelter’s corridors. As they passed by the infirmary, Estelle felt a sense of relief that Lydia hadn’t noticed them—until she heard the unmistakable sound of her name being called in a tone that could only belong to Lydia.

“Lily!” Lydia’s voice rang out, stopping them in their tracks. She hurried out of the infirmary, her expression a mix of concern and frustration. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Estelle winced inwardly, knowing she was about to get an earful. Alaric turned to face Lydia, his demeanor calm but respectful. “We’re heading out on a reconnaissance mission,” he explained. “Lily assured me she’s fine to join us.”

Lydia’s eyes narrowed as she crossed her arms, clearly unimpressed. “Lily always says she’s fine, even when she’s not,” she retorted, her gaze flicking to Estelle’s bandaged arm. “She just got patched up, and now you’re dragging her off again?”

Estelle found herself caught between the two, feeling like a child being scolded. She quickly stepped forward, trying to diffuse the tension. “I’ll be careful, I promise. It’s just a quick mission, nothing too strenuous.”

Lydia wasn’t easily swayed, her protective instincts in full force. “You said the same thing last time, and look how that turned out,” she said, her tone stern. “You might think you’re invincible, but you’re not. And I’d rather not see you back in the infirmary today.”

Alaric watched the exchange with a slight hint of amusement, though he kept his expression mostly neutral. “Lydia, I assure you, we’ll be cautious. Lily’s an important member of this team, and I wouldn’t take her with us if I thought she wasn’t ready.”

Lydia huffed, clearly not entirely convinced but recognizing that arguing further wouldn’t change the outcome. “Fine, but if she comes back in worse shape than she is now, you’re the one who’s going to be hearing about it.”

Alaric’s lips quirked into the faintest hint of a smile. “Understood, Lydia. We’ll be back soon.”

Lydia gave him a long look before finally stepping back, allowing them to continue. But not before she shot a glance at Bran, who had been doing his best to remain unnoticed in the background. “And you, Bran—don’t think I didn’t see you trying to sneak past. You’re just as responsible for bringing her back in one piece.”

Bran gave a quick nod, clearly eager to avoid Lydia’s ire. “Yes, ma’am,” he replied, his voice low.

With Lydia’s reluctant blessing, the three of them continued on their way. As they walked through the shelter’s winding corridors, Estelle couldn’t help but chuckle softly at the exchange. “She really does care, doesn’t she?” she remarked to Alaric.

Alaric’s expression softened slightly. “Lydia’s been with us for a long time. She’s seen too many people push themselves too far. She just doesn’t want you to be another casualty.”

“I get that,” Estelle said, her voice thoughtful. “But I need to do my part, too. I can’t just sit around when there’s work to be done.”

Alaric nodded in understanding. “Just make sure you know your limits, Lily. We need you at your best.”

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As they made their way to the rendezvous point, Estelle found herself walking alongside Bran. The silence between them was heavy, charged with unspoken tension. Finally, Bran broke the silence, his voice low and rough.

"Alaric seems to have a lot of faith in you, bringing you along on this mission despite Lydia’s nagging," he said, not bothering to mask the suspicion in his tone. "But I’ve been around long enough to know that faith can be a dangerous thing."

Estelle met his gaze evenly, knowing that how she responded now could either start to build a bridge or deepen the chasm between them. "I’m not here to earn faith, Bran. I’m here to do my part, just like everyone else. Whatever doubts you have, you’ll see the truth of them soon enough."

Bran’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if weighing her words, but he said nothing more. The silence stretched on as they continued their journey, the path ahead lit only by the dim glow of the few lamps scattered along the tunnels.

They reached the exit of the shelter and emerged into the cool night air. The moon hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the rugged landscape. Alaric took the lead, guiding them toward their destination—an abandoned safehouse on the outskirts of the city that had once been a hub for the resistance. Now, it was nothing more than a shell, a remnant of what had once been a beacon of hope.

The journey was uneventful, but the tension in the air was palpable. Estelle could feel the weight of Bran’s gaze on her back, and even Alaric, though outwardly composed, seemed more guarded than usual. When they finally arrived at the safehouse, it was clear that the place had been abandoned for some time. The windows were boarded up, the doors hanging off their hinges. But there was something else, too—a sense of wrongness that made the hairs on the back of Estelle’s neck stand on end.

Inside, the safehouse was in disarray. Papers were scattered across the floor, and the remnants of old equipment lay in rusted heaps. Alaric moved through the space with purpose, his eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of recent activity. Estelle followed closely, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword, her senses alert for any threats.

As they searched the building, Estelle’s foot caught on something solid beneath the debris. She crouched down, brushing away the dirt to reveal a hidden compartment in the floor. Her heart skipped a beat as she pried it open, revealing a small stash of documents and what looked like a piece of old, worn technology.

"What have you found?" Alaric’s voice was calm, but she could sense the tension behind it.

Estelle carefully lifted the documents, her eyes scanning the contents. They were records—logs of experiments, lists of names, dates, and cryptic notes about the use of Essence in weaponry. The piece of technology was a small, handheld device, the kind used for communication or data storage. It was damaged, but Estelle felt a pang of recognition. This was something she had seen before, back at the orphanage, though she couldn’t place exactly when or how.

Alaric took the documents from her, his expression unreadable as he flipped through them. "These are from that organization," he said quietly, more to himself. "This safehouse must have been compromised before it was abandoned."

Bran, who had been watching from a distance, stepped forward. "We need to destroy these," he said, his voice firm. "If the regime finds this place, they’ll use whatever they find against us."

Alaric nodded in agreement, but Estelle hesitated. There was something about the documents, about the device, that tugged at her memory. But now wasn’t the time to dwell on it—Alaric’s gaze was on her again, measuring, weighing.

"We’ll destroy the most sensitive information," Alaric said finally, handing the documents back to Estelle. "But take what you need to decode this device. It might hold the answers we’re looking for."

Estelle nodded, carefully tucking the documents and the device into her pack. As she did, she couldn’t help but notice the way Alaric watched her, his eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to see through her, to the truth she was hiding. It was clear that he knew more than he was letting on, and that he suspected she did too.

Just as they were preparing to leave, the sound of growls and scratching echoed from the shadows beyond the safehouse walls. The air grew colder, thick with the unmistakable stench of the twisted monsters. Estelle’s grip tightened on her sword as she glanced at Alaric, who nodded grimly.

"We’ve got company," he murmured, signaling for Bran to take up a defensive position near the entrance.

The monsters emerged from the darkness, their forms were a grotesque mix of flesh and energy, their eyes glowing with a malevolent light. Estelle’s heart pounded, but not with fear—with anticipation. This was what she was trained for, what she had done countless times.

Without hesitation, Estelle moved forward, her sword slicing through the air with deadly precision. The first monster lunged at her, its claws outstretched, but she was faster. Despite the persistent throb in her shoulder, she sidestepped its attack with a sharp intake of breath, pushing the pain aside. She then brought her sword down in a clean arc, severing its head from its body. The creature collapsed in a heap, its Essence dissipating into the air with a hiss.

Bran and Alaric fought alongside her, their movements coordinated and efficient. But Alaric’s eyes kept flicking toward Estelle, a protective edge in his gaze. He forms sharp, metallic barriers and weapons, shielding Estelle from attacks that get too close. Though he trusted her skills, he couldn’t help but worry, especially after her recent injury.

But it was Estelle who took the lead, her instincts as a Hunter driving her forward. The pain in her shoulder was a dull ache now, but she dismissed it, focusing on the battle at hand. She danced through the battlefield, her sword a blur as she cut down one monster after another. This was where Estelle felt most alive, where she was in complete control.

The battlefield was her domain, and she wasn’t going to let anything—not even her injury—compromise that. But as she fought, she was acutely aware of Alaric watching her. His eyes narrowed with concern whenever she winced from the strain on her injured shoulder. He admired her skill, recognizing that here she was in her element, but he wasn’t about to let her push herself too far.

“Keep it steady, Lily,” Alaric called out, his voice tinged with concern as he deflected an incoming attack with a metal barrier. “No need to overdo it.”

“I’m fine,” Estelle replied firmly, spinning to take down another monster. She appreciated his concern, but she couldn’t let anything hold her back—not now, not when they were so close to finishing this. Despite the pain, she met Alaric’s gaze with a determined nod, silently assuring him she was still in control.

The battle was brief but intense. When the last monster fell, the safehouse was littered with their corpses, the air thick with the scent of blood. Estelle stood in the center of it all, her breathing steady, her sword still gleaming in the dim light.

Alaric approached her slowly, his expression unreadable. "You fight like someone who’s been doing this for a long time," he said quietly, his gaze intense. "That’s not something you learn from a few skirmishes."

Estelle met his gaze, her heart pounding. "I’ve had to fight to survive," she replied, her voice steady despite the tension coiling in her chest. "That’s all there is to it."

Alaric studied her for a long moment, as if weighing her words. Finally, he nodded, though the suspicion in his eyes hadn’t entirely faded. "Let’s get back to the shelter. We need to decode that device and see what we’re up against."

As they made their way back to the shelter, they passed by the infirmary. Estelle caught sight of Lydia inside, busy with her duties. She offered a quick, reassuring wave, signaling that she was fine. Lydia glanced up and gave a small, reluctant nod, though her disapproving look made it clear she wasn’t entirely convinced.

Estelle carefully stored the documents and the device in a secure location, following Alaric’s instructions. Her mind raced with possibilities as she secured the items. She needed to find out what was on that device, but more importantly, she needed to figure out how it might connect to the sword, to the orphanage, and to the larger mystery that seemed to be unfolding around her.