A few weeks from now:

Abby rubbed her blue eyes and glanced at the fading light filtering through her window, casting a gentle glow over her modest cubicle in the Points. She stretched, her eight tentacles moving in a graceful dance as she rose from her chair. Her upper half was human-like for the most part, save for her skin being a pink spotted, light orchid color. The other standout feature was the fact she had two tentacles instead of arms and hands. She had a small nose adorning her face, and two fins that lay in a way that resembled hair cut at a medium length. Her bottom half was entirely filled with six tentacles matching her skin color.

She was wearing the typical garb expected of those who work for the Arvendon Museum of History at the base of the Center Shaft. Her attire reflected both professionalism and her unique heritage.

She wore a tailored, dark green tunic that complemented her light purple skin, the fabric embroidered with subtle silver threads forming patterns reminiscent of Auctian artistry. Her trousers were a practical yet stylish charcoal gray, allowing her the freedom to move easily as she navigated the museum’s vast halls. Over her tunic, she donned a fitted, sleeveless vest with multiple pockets, perfect for carrying the tools and artifacts she worked with daily. Her tentacles, adorned with delicate silver cuffs, peeked gracefully from beneath the tunic’s hem, adding an elegant touch to her ensemble. Sensible black boots completed her look, providing comfort and support as she spent long hours on her feet, preserving the history of Arvendon.

Recently, she was given the task of cataloging newly discovered Auctian artifacts that were shipped in from the desert outskirts. She sighed, knowing that despite her protests, the museum's ruling body assumed her Auctian heritage made her the best candidate for the job.

“Just because I’m Auctian,” she would say, “doesn’t mean I know what these archaic things are! My specialty is early Arvendonian culture!” But it would fall on deaf ears, and she would then categorize them, usually wrong, but the higher-ups never knew that. She grew up in a more advanced city that the one she lived in, where the Auctian artifacts were in holo-books, so she knew what they were. Her historical interests lie toward human culture and she just did not care about trash from her culture.

Today was no different. Abby was meticulously examining a small, intricately carved Auctian device when her coworker, Devon, approached her cubicle. Devon was tall, with a stern face and an attitude to match. He always seemed to find something to criticize.

“Abby, are you sure you’re handling that artifact correctly?” he asked, his tone condescending.

Abby sighed, her patience wearing thin. “Devon, I’ve been working here for years. I know how to handle artifacts.”

Trevor crossed his arms. “I’m just saying, these artifacts are delicate. We can’t afford any mistakes.”

Abby’s tentacles tensed. “And I’m saying I’m perfectly capable. If you have a problem with my work, take it up with the board.”

Their argument escalated, drawing the attention of their coworkers. It was a common occurrence, their clashes as much a part of the museum’s routine as the artifacts themselves.

Just as Devon was about to retort, their supervisor, Mr. Benson, approached. He was an older man with a stern expression, his graying hair neatly combed back.

“What’s going on here?” Mr. Benson asked, his voice carrying authority.

“Nothing, sir. Just a disagreement,” Abby said, trying to keep her tone respectful.

“Devon, Abby is one of our best researchers. If she says she can handle it, I trust her judgment,” Mr. Benson said, surprising Abby with his support.

Devon opened his mouth to argue but thought better of it under Mr. Benson’s watchful gaze. “Yes, sir,” he muttered, backing away.

Abby gave Mr. Benson a grateful nod, feeling a small victory in the ongoing battle. However, she knew this wouldn’t be the last time she had to defend her competence. He walked away and Devon and Abby glared at each other.

“Here!” Abby exclaimed. Throwing the artifact towards her angered coworker. “This is an old flipper adornment they would use keep them from getting into Auctian eyes.”

He caught it and eyed her questioningly. “What did I just say?!”

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“Listen, it’s survived sixty thousand years in a desert, I think it’ll survive a toss or two.”

Eventually, Devon huffed and walked away, leaving Abby fuming, though not to the extent she would have been had Mr. Benson not come around. Then she saw him putting the device in his hair. Internally she laughed and was disgusted, as she knew that was a personal cleaning device, ancient yes but a cleaning device none the less. Knowing where it had been, she found it to be hilarious.

After a long day, Abby left the museum, her frustration evident in the sharp movements of her tentacles. She made her way to the city's transportation hub, a massive network of trams and lifts that connected the various levels of Arvendon.

She boarded a tram, finding a seat near the window. The cityscape blurred past as the tram descended from the Center Shaft to the Points. Abby rested her head against the glass, her thoughts swirling with dissatisfaction.

“I hate this job,” she thought, her mind replaying the day’s events. “I need a change. Something meaningful. But what?”

The tram stopped at her station, and Abby disembarked, making her way through the bustling streets to her modest apartment. The city was alive with activity, but Abby felt detached, her mind preoccupied with thoughts of escape and change.

When she reached her apartment, Abby noticed an official-looking envelope lying on the doormat. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the seal of the Arvendon Military. With trembling tentacles, she picked it up and went inside.

Inside her medium sized, living room, the air felt thick with anticipation. The faded wallpaper and mismatched furniture seemed to close in around her as she tore open the envelope. Her eyes darted across the letter, scanning the lines quickly. A wave of emotion washed over her, her ill-tempered mood dissolving into something else entirely.

Abby wiped away tears that had begun to blur her vision. She took a deep breath, the weight of the letter settling in her mind. Her hands, now steadier, placed the letter gently on the coffee table. The room was filled with a tense silence, broken only by the hum of the refrigerator in the next room.

She reached for her phone, her fingers hovering over the screen for a moment. With a resolute nod, she dialed her boss’s number. Each ring seemed to echo her mix of fear and resolve.

“Hello, Mr. Benson? It’s Abby,” she began, her voice trembling slightly but growing stronger with each word. “I’m calling to inform you that I’m resigning from my position at the museum, effective immediately.”

Mr. Benson was silent for a moment. “Abby, this is quite sudden. Are you sure about this?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Abby replied, fighting back tears. “I’ve realized that I need to make a change in my life. I appreciate the opportunities I’ve had at the museum, but it’s time for me to move on.”

There was another pause, then Mr. Benson sighed. “I understand, Abby. We’ll miss you here, but I wish you all the best in whatever you choose to do next.”

“Thank you,” Abby said, her voice barely above a whisper. She hung up the phone and let the tears flow freely. The release was cathartic, each tear a testament to the upheaval she felt. She looked at the letter from the military again, the weight of its words settling heavily in her mind. The reality of her situation felt both daunting and liberating.

She walked over to her small desk, cluttered with mementos from her years at the museum, and picked up a sleek, handheld device. It was her thermostat, an all-in-one tool that managed her home defense systems and personal accounts. She tapped the screen, accessing her financial overview. The holographic display showed her savings account balance, and seeing the decent amount there, she nodded to herself with a semblance of reassurance.

Determined to find clarity, Abby made a decision. She needed to get out of the confined space of her apartment and clear her mind. The artificial lake outside the city, a place she had visited many times for solace, seemed like the perfect destination. She planned to leave early the next morning, hoping the tranquility of the water would help her sort through her thoughts.

As the evening light waned, casting long shadows across her living room, Abby began to pack a small bag. She included a journal, a pen, and a few essentials. The simple act of preparing for the trip gave her a sense of purpose and control.

The night was restless, her mind swirling with possibilities and uncertainties. When dawn broke, Abby was already awake, the first light of day filtering through her curtains. She took a moment to appreciate the calm before stepping out the door, the letter from the Arvendon Military resting in the clutches of one of her tentacles, a silent reminder of the change she had wanted that had just begun.

A free from work Abby walked through the bustling streets of the Points, her mind preoccupied with the recent resignation from the museum. The letter from the military, now safely tucked in her satchel, weighed heavily on her thoughts. As she made her way to a nearby café to collect her thoughts, she couldn't shake the feeling that her life was on the brink of a significant change.As she entered the café, the warm aroma of coffee and baked goods enveloped her. She found a quiet corner and ordered a cup of tea, hoping the calming beverage would help her process everything. As she sipped her tea, she noticed a man at a nearby table, engrossed in a book. His dark hair and intense gaze stood out in the crowd.

Unbeknownst to Abby, this man was Nat, Erik’s enigmatic narrator. He observed her with mild curiosity, sensing a unique aura about her. Nat had always been drawn to those with significant destinies, and something about Abby piqued his interest., outside of the task Erik had given him.

Abby, feeling the weight of the letter in her bag, decided to take it out and read it once more. As she unfolded the letter, a gust of wind blew through the café, lifting the letter from her hands and sending it fluttering across the room. It landed at Nat's feet.

Startled, Abby rushed over to retrieve it. "I'm so sorry," she said, reaching down to pick up the letter.

Nat glanced at the letter and then at Abby. "No need to apologize," he replied, handing it back to her. "Important letter?"

Abby hesitated, then nodded. "Yes, it's... it's a lot to take in."

Nat gestured to the empty seat across from him. "Care to talk about it? Sometimes sharing helps."

Abby was initially reluctant but felt an inexplicable trust toward this stranger. She sat down and explained her situation, from her frustrations at the museum to the unexpected letter from the military.

Nat listened intently, his interest growing with every word. "It sounds like you're at a crossroads," he said thoughtfully. "Have you considered what path you truly want to take?"

Before Abby could respond, a group of rowdy patrons entered the café, their loud voices disrupting the peaceful atmosphere. One of them bumped into Abby's chair, causing her to spill her tea.

"Watch it!" Abby snapped, her frustration boiling over.

The patron, a burly man with a scowl, turned to face her. "You got a problem?"

“Yeah!” She stood straight up on six of her tentacles and drew in breath to increase her size. She wanted to look as intimidating as possible. It seemed to work, and the guy backed down, and even helped her clean up the mess.

She glanced up and saw that the man she was talking to had left, almost like he wasn’t even there to begin with.