Cenna rubbed her eyes as she woke up from a nap. Here she thought she would snooze uninterrupted all the way until morning.
The first thing she did was to check her phone.
Huh, it’s only 11:00 PM.
Looking around, she noticed that Mezil Thyme was nowhere to be found. He should be in the neighbouring bed, recovering.
Already up and about? Is that man allergic to rest or what? Whatever. I gotta talk to him anyway.
Cenna hopped to her feet. But then, she winced from the chafing on her clothes, as every movement sent an annoying ache from the sore, inflamed spots. They itched too.
“Argh! Okay Cenna, take it slow and easy. Slow and easy…”
Out in Alphys’ living room, Mezil Thyme sat on the sofa. He faced Alphys’ expensive wide-screen monitor that he had borrowed for his own business. It’s connected to a laptop, and Cenna would recognize that sapphire blue device anywhere.
Lucy -- never trusting anything that wasn’t modified by her own hands -- would dismantle and rebuild anything for safety’s sake. It was the only reason why Mezil had a self-driving car at all.
Working when he wasn’t supposed to… how typical of that grizzled fellow.
She was about to complain the usual complaint. But then, she noticed the dire atmosphere hanging over his head. It’s too tense. All business and no play.
“Mez?” Cenna asked. “Old man, what’s wrong?”
He didn’t respond. What caught his attention so much that he didn’t respond at all?
She walked closer. The screen showed the interiors of a room through a webcam. It was too dark to see, but there appeared to be the silhouette of a car in the background.
“A cam call? What’s a car doing on webcam?…”
At last Mezil answered: “That’s a bed. Papyrus owns quite a thematic furniture.”
More and more red flags were raised. Cenna sat down next to her superior. Her heart started to beat faster. “H-hey. What’s going on here?”
“Long story short, Lucidia sent me an SOS, saying that Aiden sought out Papyrus for intel. Thugs besieged the house sometime after. I’ve sent assistance, but I have yet to receive any updates. Papyrus owns the sole functioning computer in that household… so here we are now. Waiting for their return.”
“…Don’t send Gael.”
“I’m not.” Mezil replied. “Sir Grillenn offered to cover for Gaelic’s absence. In exchange, he shall be my unbiased witness. He will remember everything that transpires.”
“Only that?” the other Magus questioned. “I know he’s a good man, but I don’t want you to take advantage of him. We’re asking him to do some dangerous stuff.”
“There are other offers, but they only matter if we get out of this hot water. Back on subject: I would prefer to resolve this situation without deaths on either side. Though, I’m certain they have different objectives in mind. There's Techeval hitmen mingled in with the thugs.”
“What?! Doesn’t this mean there are like…” Cenna counted with her fingers. “THREE different groups giving ya trouble??? That’s worse than pure Gungnir!”
“Hmph. Yes. What else is new?”
“Don’t ya just go ‘hmph’ on me!”
Tired in both body and mind, Cenna slumped against the sofa. There’s never a dull moment with Supreme Judge Mezil Thyme.
Mezil said: “As you know, I’m banned from entering their country. All the tribes weren’t satisfied with my work. The Mukrim, Salsar, Basabi, Yolmin, Ru, Ozmunak, Irubindi, Techeval, Aratet….”
“Okay,” said Cenna. “Maybe it’s time you told me why they hate your guts so much.”
“The answer is simple: I made everyone lose. An even draw across the board. That…”
The old man lowered his grey head. “That was the only way to return peace to the land.”
“Why though? I thought you hate dealing with international politics. You didn’t even try to wrangle with the locals more than you had to.”
“Because twenty-five years ago… I made a wager against a Living Victory.” Mezil confessed. “If he wins, he’s free to use the Keys of Fate to liberate his people. If I win, I will be the one to end that conflict in his stead.”
The young Vanquisher commented, “And you won.”
“Yes. I had bit off more than I could chew. The wills and intricacies behind that war were impossible to untangle. At the same time, that pest Persona haunted me at every step.”
“Therefore…” Raising his head, Mezil spoke with grim determination. “My solution was to waste everyone’s efforts. Money. Resources. Sacrifices. All burned into the smoke of meaninglessness.”
Cenna remembered the history lessons. By now, that territory became what appears to be a standard so-called democratic nation. Everyone should have elected a representative of their tribe and worked together for the betterment of all. That is… if they tolerated each other to begin with.
Some communities were more ‘acceptable’ to the whole than others. A power gap soon grew between the majority and the minority. Accusations of inequality, racial violence, and oppression continued to ripple through the years to this very day.
As for the Aratets themselves, most still live in hiding. They didn’t accept the outside world, and the outside world didn’t accept them. It wasn’t until now that Cenna had the opportunity to think about it.
Why? What made them believe that seclusion was the only answer? No one knew the full reason.
It would be nice to ask an Aratet directly. Especially the kids. If only the feast didn’t go belly up…
Ugh. Guess we won’t be finding out anytime soon.
Changing the topic, Cenna asked: “Who else is on the case?”
Mezil replied, “Captain Undyne. Though exhausted from working all day, she refused to leave Papyrus alone. Garamond, Sir Grillen, and the Grandmaster’s guards followed her."
No wonder the atmosphere was so tense. “Great. If anything happens to either side, we’re gonna have our own long day at the embassy tomorrow.”
“Hmph. If we have tomorrow at all.”
That statement stirred a spike of defensiveness. “Hey! Are ya underestimating Frisky Frisk or something? I thought you got over that crap since the whole Crimson Hall - Megalovania affair.”
“I know they’re your sibling, but at least be honest to yourself. They did approach me with a specific mindset. Since things are going further downhill… it doesn’t look like I will get my way.”
Cenna bit her lower lip. She wanted to believe that Frisk had a deep, wise vision of this whole mess. But… was it fair to expect a 10 year old to make perfect decisions? Even adults struggle in this situation.
“Hey Mez,” she said, “You ain’t gonna rag on Frisk over their choice, right? Because if you do… I-I’ll kick your shin.”
The elder replied, “No. I won’t complain.”
There was no follow up answer.
All attention returned to the empty room. Waiting was always the worst part of the job. News often can’t be delivered until the matter resolves itself. And anything could happen in the meantime. Both good or bad…
At first only silence lingered in the air. Then loud, distorted pops crackled through Papyrus’ webcam microphone. Cenna recognized that sharpness right away.
It was the sound of gunfire: the worst outcome.
A big glow of orange followed alongside distant digitally-distorted screaming. Fire? From Grillby or from Papyrus? The latter shouldn’t be burning his Eye. Not in this state.
Just as sudden as it started… the house became quiet again.
Crap shit fuck what the heck is happening there? Dammit! I wish there’s more than this webcam!
At last, someone entered the room. It’s Papyrus. It didn’t look like he had any obvious physical injuries. That’s at least some good news.
The owner of the room sat down on the chair before the computer. He tried his best to look cheerful, though it’s plain to see that he was a little shaken by the ordeal.
Papyrus asked: “MISTER MAGUS AND MISS AUNT, ARE YOU FEELING BETTER?”
“Us?” The Vanquisher smirked, “We’re more worried about you, Cinnamon Roll!”
“EXCUSE ME? YOU’RE… WORRIED ABOUT ME, MISS AUNT? YOUR BODY LANGUAGE RADIATES LIVELINESS BUT I CAN’T QUITE HEAR YOU.”
Mezil cleared his throat as he passed a wireless microphone to Cenna.
Irritated, she fixed the bits onto her hospital gown. “Dammit, Mez. You could have given me that from the start! Bleh, that was embarrassing.”
Turning back to Papyrus, she said: “Anyways, yeah. We were. Did those scumbags try to hurt you?”
“…YES. BUT I MANAGED TO DODGE LONG ENOUGH BEFORE UNDYNE SHOOED THEM AWAY WITH A RAIN OF SPEARS. GRILLBY’S FIRE ALSO SEEMED TO HAVE PUT THEM IN THE MINDSET OF ESCAPE.”
“Not gonna lie, I’d do the same for ya if I was there.”
“THANK YOU FOR THE KIND THOUGHTS.”
“Where’s everyone else?”
“IN THE LIVING ROOM, TRYING TO RELAX ON THE PIN-POINT BALANCE OF AN UNEASY TRUCE. BUT I… I WANT TO TALK TO MISTER MAGUS, IF YOU DON’T MIND.”
A message especially for Mezil? What could it be? She would have presented Mezil to Papyrus if everything didn’t hurt like heck. “Go ahead, he’s right here.”
“…I HEARD FROM AIDEN THAT YOU DIDN’T WANT TO UNDO HIS SON’S DEATH.”
Mezil closed his eyes. “Yes. You are right.”
“DOES THAT HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH A CRUEL QUESTION? SOMETHING ABOUT… WHETHER OR NOT YOU SAVE ONE PERSON OVER A HUNDRED, OR A HUNDRED OVER ONE PERSON?”
“Papyrus, I can’t predict what the enemy Seer will do to your town. If she discovers that her mission is well and truly compromised… I fear you’ll suffer casualties beyond expectations.”
“BUT, SHE’S JUST A PITIFUL GIRL. THAT KID DOESN’T EVEN HAVE A NAME!”
“Exactly. A pitiful girl who knew nothing other than death and murder. I doubt she even had a meaningful childhood to fall back to. That’s why she’s dangerous. There will be no conscience behind her actions. In her, you’ll find only the drive to complete her given objectives.”
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
Hearing that stung Cenna’s heart more than she’d admit. It was too close for comfort.
Someone who didn’t know a better life… I wonder if I would’ve ended up like that had the Wanderstars not picked me up.
Papyrus, the sweetest skeleton out there, shed some tears.
“MISTER MAGUS. I MEAN, JUDGE THYME. I… WAS TOLD TO MAKE A DECISION. EITHER TO KEEP THIS TIMELINE, OR DISCARD IT. MY DECISION… IS TO LET YOU AND FRISK MAKE THE FINAL CALL.”
“You will not argue with me? Plea for the sanctity and value of life?”
“I COULD! HOWEVER… IT’S NOT FAIR FOR ME TO MAKE DEMANDS. I’M NOT THE ONE WITH THE KEYS OF FATE. I CAN ONLY GIVE ADVICE, AND I CAN’T FORCE ANYONE TO TAKE THE PATH I WANT.”
“Very well then, answer me,” said Mezil. “Who will you save? The one, or the hundred?”
“THAT’S A FAKE QUESTION TO THE HIGHEST DEGREE!!! ONE OR A HUNDRED OR A THOUSAND OR A MILLION, IT DOESN’T MATTER! SOMEONE WILL ALWAYS BE PRECIOUS TO SOMEONE ELSE. I CAN’T JUST PICK AND CHOOSE. I HAVE TO HELP WHO I CAN HELP AND SAVE WHO I CAN SAVE!”
“NO MATTER WHAT, I -- THE GREAT PAPYRUS -- WILL DO HIS BEST!!!! I AM THE SAME NO MATTER THE CIRCUMSTANCES. SO… PLEASE DO YOUR BEST TOO.”
Papyrus’ speech was a ray of sunshine at the break of dawn. A campfire in the cold of night. A bowl of chicken soup during the flu season. It’s just… wholesome: a reminder of why people fight for the greater good.
The skeleton looked back for a moment. “I THINK I SHOULD GO NOW. IT’S UNBECOMING FOR A HOST TO BE ABSENT FOR SO LONG! SEE YOU SOON! NYEH HEH HEH!!!”
After that, Papyrus ended the call.
Mezil muttered to himself: “Help who can be helped… save who can be saved…”
The young spunk tried to get a read on his face. “You’re touched by that, aren’t ya? Mhmm mhmm? I know you act all hard-boiled and cynical, but you’re a softie for the optimistic.”
Grunt and grumble, so responded the old fellow. The term ‘tsundere’ fit Mezil so well, Cenna wondered why she didn’t label him sooner. Such a missed opportunity.
Mezil then said: “Before you resume your merry teasing, use this lull moment to think about your next move. You have to come up with two scenarios: with time travel and without.”
“Then, you gotta fill in the details. What’s gonna happen if they don’t rewind time?”
“Not going to school, I’m certain. The Dreemurrs will have the time to have breakfast with Commissioner Roger Eldin, as he had personally requested.”
“Huh… really now?”
She frowned at the thought. Mezil and Roger were what folks call ‘the same but different’.
Around Mezil Thyme of House Berendin, Cenna could behave as her natural self. She knew where the boundaries lay, even if she sometimes overstepped them. He may be forever stern, but he made no effort to hide: what you see is what you get.
Commissioner Roger Eldin on the other hand… he’s opaque. He could be friendly. Normal. Behave just like a regular supervisor, unlike the eternal grump. But try as she might, she couldn’t guess his real heart. Because of that, Cenna always felt rather stifled in his presence. Put up one’s best behaviour, or one might step on a minefield.
Could Sans Serif peel away the layers? Probably. That might not be a good idea, however. There’s no telling what sort of ruin that skeleton might leave behind.
Mezil’s voice pulled Cenna out of her thoughts. “Do you want to join them?”
“I guess I have to. Injured or not, a princess gotta do her job, y’know. Might leave a bad impression if I don’t show my mug.”
“That settles one action. Now, if Frisk did rewind time… who will you send out next? Sans Serif was your best bet.”
“Eh, that’s the easy bit.” She pointed a thumb to herself. “Your trusty arrowhead, Cenna Caraway!”
He scoffed, “Confident, aren’t you?”
Squinting annoyed, she said: “Dude. Sir. Old Man. I won’t suggest this if I still have other options.”
“Hmph.” He thumped his cane on the ground and used it to lift himself off the couch. “Do as you want, as long your Psychia doesn’t shatter.”
In Mezil language, that was certain approval. The delighted Vanquisher saluted to him with a big grin. The sting on her skin? Ignored.
“Yes sir! And… thank you.”
* * *
One moment, Cenna was chilling in her bed.
The next, she’s standing right in front of Frisk. They chose to rewind time after all, just as the old man had predicted.
Hey, I don’t ache from every little movement anymore! Awesome!
Skin, burn-free. Muscles, loosened to a normal state. There’s no better moment than now for a good stretch. Cenna just had to be mindful of the stitches in her chest, though it’s mostly healed by now.
So, stretched she did. Made sure to give extra attention to the neck and arms. She’s gonna need those soon.
“Mmgh! Dang, I miss being able to move.” Satisfaction, right there.
But there was still that one worry: did Frisk rewind time on a whim, or not? That would affect Mezil’s impression on the kid.
So Cenna questioned: “If you don’t mind me asking, why didn’t ya stop by the Hub first? Don’t wanna see the old man’s face?”
“Ahuh.” The kid replied. “But don’t worry. I DO have a plan! You and I can prove to the Tsun that we can solve problems the Wanderstar way. I just need your 100% cooperation.”
“That depends, Frisky? What would that plan be?”
Frisk flipped out a double handgun pose. “We’re gonna FIGHT! And we’re gonna fight smart!”
“Atta Frisky!” Cenna praised, “Love me a good counterattack. So what’s the plan?”
Taken aback by the mentions of fighting and danger, Toriel objected to the whole scheme with concerned furrows. “What are you two talking about? This is not the time to fight!”
Out from the kitchen, a deep voice said: “It is.”
The mighty Asgore -- still holding the potted Silvermane plant -- approached the group with urgent resolution. “The town is in danger, Toriel. We have to take action now.”
Cenna motioned her head towards Frisk with a raised brow. “Did you…?”
The kid responded with a cheeky wink. “Dad is part of our gang now. Anyway! Beeee right back!”
Off they ran, upstairs to their room. Those short legs moved fast when they needed to.
They returned with their schoolbag. After plunking it beside the nearest table, they pulled out a notebook and a pencil case.
On the far left of an empty page, Frisk drew a stick figure with a cartoonish skull wielding a long stick-like ‘gun’. “Okay. Our enemy is a LV 18 C/Y/O sniper. She’s super strong and super fast, with lots of nasty weapons. To counter her high ‘ATK’ and ‘SPD’, we must make our ‘DEF’ go to infinity!”
They proceeded to draw a bubble at the far right. “I propose to boost Cenna’s shields with three colours: Green to boost her white shield, Blue for reinforcement, and Cyan for mana cost-reduction.”
And inside the bubble, the kid drew another stick figure with a cowboy hat. “Humans are much more resistant to Corrupt Determination and the power of the Philosopher’s Stone. Therefore, a pro Vanquisher like Sis should not be affected by Miss Sniper at all. When the time is right…”
Frisk pretended to be an archer, poised to strike. “Cenna Caraway will shoot down the bad bone in one go!”
For a base plan, the Magus couldn’t find any fault. It covered both defense and offense. Took account of each species’ strengths to boot.
I was worrying for nothing! I think even the old man would be impressed by this.
“That… That’s a bloody good idea! Don’t worry about getting from point A to B. I’ll arrange with Garamond for that.”
Frisk gave a thumbs up for approval. “Nice. For the rest of us, let us proceed as normal. Dad and I will go to the border, while Mom will wait at the school. Remember, the sniper is watching MTT’s stream, so we can’t act weird in front of the camera. Okay?”
“Okay, no problemo!”
And so, the pint-sized Crimson Keeper pasted three coloured Marks on Cenna’s Psychia: Green, Blue, and Cyan.
First, a test run. Cenna cast her shields. Already, she could feel them being much, much stronger than her usual magic.
“Working as intended! I’m gonna go get a headstart on my mission.”
So, Cenna grabbed her coat and headed straight out into the field. On the way, she heard poor Toriel’s confused and concerned questioning. ‘I still have no idea what is going on’, thus said the Queen. That job remained for Frisk and Asgore to settle.
Once outside, Cenna took out a radio transmitter. Lucy insisted on radio waves for direct contact. Something about digital phones being too easy to tap into.
“Paging Garamond Blanc,” she said, “Do you read me?”
“Garamond Blanc online. Reading you loud and clear.”
“I need transport to point Lambda, pronto. Meet me at point Alpha. Over.”
“Affirmative. Will arrive soon. Over and out.”
Point Alpha was the first junction down the road of Frisk’s house. This was where a poor taxi driver had his ride vandalized by Gungnir goons about three weeks ago. How time flies.
In less than ten seconds, an unassuming black car stopped by the side of the road.
Number plate, checked.
Mezil’s driver of choice, checked.
Secret skeleton in the back, checked.
So she hopped right in.
“Hi,” said the driver. “Driving to point Lambda. You still owe me ride money.”
That was the exact same statement as a previous timeline. Her colleague never did miss a chance to cash in Cenna’s debt. “…Is that really how you verify yourself?”
“Only the real me knows you tried to beg for a ride at the hospital. Not to mention I also did the replacement booking.”
Cenna wanted to object, but she couldn’t. “Fair enough. Once this mission is over, yeah?”
“Sure. Otherwise I’ll just claim it straight from the boss.”
“Please don’t do that yet! I still have a face to save.”
While they travelled, Cenna checked Mettaton’s livestream. He had just now announced his intention to go to the border.
What? Already? Argh, it feels like everyone’s running ahead of me.
Garamond then asked: “Did Frisk make any changes?”
“Uh… why do you ask?”
“It’s gone.” He said, clutching the clothes on his chest.
“Seriously?! I thought they don’t just, y’know, kerpoof. Ol’ Mez NEVER had that problem. I still have mine. Otherwise, we won’t be here.”
Garamond sighed under the mask. “Just as I thought. The Crimson Keeper is not yet skilled enough. Perhaps I’m but a forgettable person…”
“Hey there, don’t beat yourself up. Not everyone is a colourful character like Papyrus!”
“Hmm. I just hope Gaelic still has his. Otherwise, he’ll bear the brunt of his Purple.”
“…If only he had half of my fortune.” He turned his head towards the window. “I’m still free from the Curse after all these years…”
A few seconds later, he snapped himself out of the melancholy. “Apologies. Let’s focus on the mission first.”
“Yeah.” Cenna agreed. Mission first, personal issues later. “Let’s have a drink at Grillby’s tomorrow, when all of this is over.”
Before long, they arrived at Point Lambda: it’s the wayside that led to the forest near the border. The distant busy business of the Royal Guard could be heard from here.
Cenna checked her phone one more time before entering the forest proper. Frisk was already on camera. There’s not much time left before the showdown begins.
I better hurry.
The portal indeed stood in front of a tree at a clearing, matching Gaelic’s findings.
Reaching out her hand for Garamond to grab, she said: “Alright, I’m ready.”
When the fire of his dual Eyes shimmered, his trademark magic wrapped around them like a skin-close bubble. The world darkened as though it was a moonless night; bending light to hide oneself also meant reducing the amount that reaches the caster.
For Cenna, the invisibility felt like a stroll through the fog. It’s not thick like water, but there was always ‘something’ brushing against the surface, obscuring her senses.
Garamond led the way through the portal. After the initial buzz of breaking through the surface between dimensions… they emerged in enemy territory. The first thing she noticed was the unpleasant mustiness of the abandoned railway.
Did I smell rat poop? Definitely rat poop.
Ugh. Hang in there, girl. Don’t make a sound.
The second thing she noticed were the distorted echoes of the livestream bouncing off the tunnel walls. The sniper had yet change her actions, indicating that she hadn’t checked her recording device.
Cenna remembered from Sans’ scenario that the enemy only relied on the Mark after a certain point. As long they can catch her before then, she could initiate an ambush.
We’re on time.
But… I gotta get Garamond out of danger first. No Seer should be anywhere near this sniper gal.
Cenna used some simple hand signals to tell her partner to retreat. He acknowledged it and slipped away unnoticed.
With the veil of invisibility gone, her own vision returned to normal. She could see the faint glow of a phone screen at the far end of the tunnel.
Okay. All clear. I just hope I can still stand after this.
Vive Restore!
Upon command, a fraction of her false nerves condensed back into her Psychia: the SOUL, as the Ebottians call it.
Glowing kindness be our shield;
Persevere and never yield;
Lady Justice heed my call;
Smite this evil, make them fall!
The immense light of her Ascension ignited in the dark tunnel. Frisk’s coloured Marks resonated with the Magus, deploying a nigh-invulnerable defence.
Gunfire boomed. Loud pings bounced off the magical shield. And not even a single crack could be seen.
Cenna summoned her bow and waited for an opening. Sooner or later, the enemy will have to stop shooting to reload her gun.
At last, the lull moment arrived. This was what Cenna had been waiting for. She lowered the shield to return fire.
Raised her weapon.
Took aim.
And sent a single arrow flying into the darkness.
The dust of battle settled without an extra peep or whimper…
Did I get her?
I’m not detecting any further movements with my Truesight. But, I know she’s not dead either.
Does she have another weapon? Maybe I should--
Her thoughts were interrupted by a massive spike of magical energy in the air. Whatever it was, her body responded with only one order.
‘Retreat!’
She yelled for Garamond, arm outstretched.
He pulled her through the portal.
Concrete pipes and rebar collapsed right behind her heel.
There were some missing seconds between the escape and her lying on the forest floor. Maybe she had tumbled onto the grass. Maybe her senior had settled her down on secure ground. She can’t recall: lost under the cover of darkness.
The first thing she asked when her sight returned was this:
“W-what happened?! Did the tunnel collapse???”
“…It did. Though I… I don’t know happened afterwards…”
Cenna was sure she heard Garamond’s bones rattling. What did he see that made the coolest, calmest old bone shake so much? That man had seen some serious shit in the past. Especially during the 1940s, when whole cities were levelled by air raids.
Cenna’s phone then rang. She tried to answer… but her hands did not cooperate. They shook, danced, and flopped. Utterly useless.
“Awh fuck. That’s right. I used up the network for my Ascension. Bah… I gotta rewire myself from scratch again.”
Garamond thus offered: “Do you need help?”
“Yeah. Thanks a ton.”
So, he answered the call in her stead.
“Lady Lucidia?” he said, surprised; they should have a direct radio connection. “Affirmative. Cenna is alive, just immobilized… Yes, she can still speak. I’ll switch to speakers ASAP.”
After adjusting the volume, Garamond placed the phone close to his colleague.
Over on the other line, the Chronographer asked: “Cenna, are you alright? What happened back there?!”
Lucy’s voice seemed shaky too. Never a good sign.
The Magus replied, “I engaged the enemy head on. Used my Ascension, fired an arrow, and landed a hit. But for some reason, the target didn’t turn to dust. A few seconds later, I felt this HUGE spike of magical energy! Garamond pulled me out of danger in the nick of time.”
“I… I see. Praise The Almighty that you survived.”
The use of religious language worried Cenna even more.
“Lucy…? What’s going on?”
“The Spire. The Institute. That city’s entire district. They… they were completely destroyed. Reduced to rubble. I- I thought you were caught in the disaster.”
A simple ‘what?!’ was all Cenna could muster.
Something went horribly wrong. Someway. Somehow.
“Judge Caraway, please stay put. I will inform Crimson Keeper Frisk of the calamity. This timeline cannot be kept, that is for certain. We will reconvene in the Hub. Ending call.”
The connection ended right there. Lucy didn’t even wait for a goodbye.
Cenna stared up towards the gloomy grey clouds, shadowed by the tree canopy. A drop of rain fell from the sky and onto her face, where she’s unable to wipe the cold away.
Another drop.
And another.
A fresh drizzle heralded the beginning of the forecasted downpour. It mourned her misfortune.
The plan was great…
The execution, perfect…
And yet, the golden ending continued to elude…
The mission was a failure. Again.
Pure frustration had hit its limit. Cenna let out a loud cry to vent her heart. Who cares if anyone heard that? It’s all going to be wiped away in a minute.