Ryxer wondered what he should do to get Gwenda to work with him without barriers. They had to share all the information now, and Gwenda didn’t seem willing at all. She might be the owner of the case, but still.
He was wiping down the throwing knives the compartment Darcy had placed them in while waiting for the return of the Shooter. Ryxer had the urge to visit and find out what she was doing in that place she went to almost every single day, but he didn’t want to meddle in her affairs. In fact, he preferred to take care of what was ordered and nothing more, all focused on him so there wouldn’t be any problems with other things.
Or perhaps he simply didn’t want to show up in the arena to avoid dealing with the things she did there. He wasn’t sure if she was only competing or if she was up to some other shit. Like illegal arms trading or worse. There was an old case involving arms sales with some impostor from sector 3, which tarnished their reputation and was one of the reasons sector 6 was almost an enemy.
The ideas in his head were confused, and nothing seemed to make sense. Everything seemed impossible and wrong. First of all, Vannyer couldn’t see how the wall could have been blown up with that kind of bomb, but that was obvious, and he realized that even Gwenda was tired of sticking to that idea and not finding answers to the possibility.
When everything made sense, when everything pointed to Gwenda being guilty, he couldn’t let the chance slip away. She didn’t have the mark, spoke with fairies, literally knew everything about the kingdoms outside Carsany. There was no reason why Gwenda shouldn’t have been the culprit. And the agent still believed that his colleague could have, indeed heard the fairies.
Gwenda made the mark. Gods, she seemed to want to be killed right there in that square. If she managed to escape the label, the king could kill her. Ryxer had almost left when hey finally marked her just below the collarbone. Gwenda’s frightened eyes almost made him fall to his knees. He had doubted Gwenda when she was just trying not to belong to anyone, trying not to belong to anyone, trying not to be owned by anyone. But Vannyer was still right not to doubt the Shooter.
Ryxer heard more than one pair of footsteps quickly descending the stairs and then prepared himself with a blade in hand gripping it until his knuckles turned white.
A body was pushed into the room, and he tensed when a pale man stumbled over his own feet. No, it wasn’t a man, but an elf. He gritted his teeth and restrained himself from throwing that dagger between the elf’s fingers directly his neck.
Gwenda entered decisively, her firm steps echoing with an addictive mortification, the gun pointed at the elf’s head. Nothing about her seemed normal. The way she stared at the creature thrown to the side on the floor was as terrifying as the fact that there was a mystic inside with them. Her face was red and purple, and Ryxer understood that she had taken some serious blows. However, she carried two damn full bags on her hips. Every part of his colleague was showing leadership, and her eyes expressed only death. She was showing who was in charge, who was in control. And Ryxer, he realized, really wasn’t ready to face her.
She unlocked the gun with a click, and Ryxer prepared himself for what was to come, but nothing happened when she started talking:
— You will give me all the damn answers to the questions I ask, and I don’t want to hear a single complaint. I promise you that I will break yo with my own hands if you don’t cooperate, so I suggest you do as I say. — She threatened.
The mystic just looked at her as if he couldn’t care less; He wanted to het it over with, and if necessary, he could die right here and now. His expression confirmed all of this.
— Of course — The elf spoke calmly, unconcerned — I don’t accept being broken by anyone other than the one who saved my life.
— So you’re aware tat you owe me a favor — Gwenda didn’t seem surprised.
— Since the beginning. So I though I’d let you spend your anger on me — He sat down and stretched his handcuffed hands up. His wrists were red, and Rycer thought maybe Gwenda had tied him up with rope before, as here were circular marks on the skin in various placed.
— You don’t seem like you’re willing to discuss this. You’ll be my servant and behave, that’s in exchange for me saving your life. And if that’s not enough, know that while you’re with me, you’ll have my respect and care. You can train to get back in shape if you ever were — Gwenda said.
The elf’s eyes gleamed, and his hands fell into his lap.
— You people are disgusting.
Gwenda smiled.
— It seems like you’re having fun.
He grimaced at his colleague and then turned to Ryxer.
The elf’s strange blue eyes scanned every tense part of the agent’s body. The creature seemed to judge him with his gaze.
— This is your enemy here. Vannyer is almost on the same level as you, elf.
Ryxer glared at Gwenda However, she didn’t dare take her eyes off the mystic still sitting on the floor. The elf was studying Vannyer as if he were just an object, someone who was only useful in a fight, nothing more. A weapon, that’s what he thought Ryxer was. In case the elf stepped out of line.
But Ryxer wasn’t Gwenda’s bodyguard and never would be, he wouldn’t pay for that. It was all a disguise.
— You may have saved me, human. — He finally turned to Gwenda — But it doesn’t change the fact that you treated me like beautiful trash.
Gwenda smiled.
— Aren’t the North elves the ones who treat any creature like a worthless and useless animal?
The mystic seemed to ponder the words and then nodded, agreeing without shame. North elves. How the Shooter knew he was from the North, Ryxer had no ideas.
— And so. — Gwenda called all attention back to her again — What’s it going to be?
The elf sighed.
— I believe I don’t have many choices.
Ryxer just watched the elf obediently get up, gritting his teeth, rising taller than Vannyer had thought. The mystic gave one last look at the silent agent and followed the Shooter.
His body relaxed when the creature passed through the door, leaving only him inside again. It was the most questionable thing he had ever seen in his life so far. Gods, his mind was chaos.
If Gwenda wanted to play with mystics and not kill them, as was their job, that was fine. As long as she didn’t involve him in it and didn’t say anything about Vannyer being in this nonsense of mystic servant, it was fine.
Maybe the elf helps with something. If he was just another brick in this case, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill the elf, even if it was Gwenda’s. He might take a few beatings in return, but Ryxer wouldn’t let that creature step on the case’s rope to be just another problem.
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The Shooter didn’t look back to see if the elf was following her down the hallway. His heavy steps assured her that he had surrendered, and the sudden agreement would stand for a good while. Gwenda knew that if he was the culprit behind the wall, he would have either killed himself or denied involvement. Maybe he’ll deny it when she beings up the case; perhaps he knows who’s behind it and will react unexpectedly. But those were just hypotheses.
They would need to interrogate ay mystics they encountered for answers.
Gwenda almost laughed at Ryxer when he shoved the elf into their dormitory. That was enough for her to realize that Vannyer had never seen a mystic up close without them being behind bars or lying immobile on the ground. After all, he was the guy with the long-range, long-distance weapon.
She entered a room where there was a cell occupying half of the space. The elf entered tight after her, pausing at the doorframe, sweeping his eyes around the room. He let out a throaty noise and a muttered curse when he stepped fully inside with a powerful stride.
Gwenda opened the gate and gestured inside with her hand before flashing a forced smile at the Northern elf. He flipped her off before complying and entering. His eyes didn’t leave hers until she closed and locked the gate with a key that was always in her pocket. She put it away and took out another from the other pocket.
— That door is the bathroom. Wash up, and in 10 minutes, I’ll be back — She said waving the key in front of him. The elf rolled his eyes discreetly and approached with his hands raised.
Gwenda unlocked the handcuffs on his wrists and stepped away from the gate, intending to leave the place. The Northern elf massaged his wrists and surveyed his cell. The thin mattress was on opposite side of the bathroom and was the only thing he had; he didn’t need anything else.
She didn’t’ stop scrutinizing him with her eyes every moment she was with the elf until she discovered he had nothing hidden. O blade or firearm under his pans. His skin was so smooth that Gwenda felt envious. No battle scars or anything of he sort on his back, arms, or chest. He was a lucky elf. She didn’t know how old he was, but being so clean of things like that was a miracle.
Gwenda left with one last glance and closed the door. She stared as if there was a little window through which she could see inside, as if she could see what he was doing.
The young woman huffed and turned to the corrido. On Saturdays, sector 3 had a break, and no one came here — usually because there was no reason — except for he boss, who snooped around to find an explanation, perhaps thinking she’d have better luck since I was silent.
The truth was, Gwenda would be nothing without Darcy’s help when she returned to the Capital. Without Darcy, no life. She was under Rubben’s commands, being more of a slave than doing the tasks he ordered. Rubben was always meddling in what the sector were doing and, as he worked for the king, always had such permission. Many agents were forced to withdraw from case. And guess what? These cases were passed on to Gwenda, who didn’t have much experience. In the end, it was punishment for her.
One night, when she was forced to break into sector 3 to get some papers, Darcy was there and not only put Gwenda on the ground but also understood her. She wouldn’t say that Raux bought Gwenda from Rubben, but that’s exactly what happened. He spent a fortune to get her out of the hands of a murderer who only cared about the money the king provided him.
After a while, Rubben didn’t take long to want Gwenda back. Of course, he would eventually give in and want to buy the Shooter. If that happened, Gwenda saw no other option but to throw herself off a cliff. Darcy played a very dangerous game. She denied Rubben and stated that she would keep Gwenda until all the money came back to her.
That was Gwenda’s biggest fear. She knew she had the money to pay Darcy, knew she could be free if she handed over the damn money. Raux knew that the young woman could pay but didn’t say anything about it because he knew the reason why Gwenda didn’t do it.
If she paid, she would be closer to freedom, but closer to being caught by Rubben. Since she had already signed an agreement with him, Rubben could use that against her freedom, even if Darcy had bought her. If Gwenda were free, she could have a more painful end than being under Darcy’s commands. She wanted anything but freedom while she could still be by her boss’s side.
Raux denied it, saying she would be free to choose whether she wanted to follow Rubben or not; he couldn’t take her, according to the laws. That was the problem; he worked with the king, there were no limits. Anyway, Gwenda was so sick of this story that she simply didn’t believe that freedom would be better than being bound to the sector 3 boss. Because somehow, she would be serving him as soon as she paid Raux.
The young woman was afraid of Rubben. And only Raux knew about this detail.
— What’s gotten into you? — Gwenda blinked. She barely noticed she had reached the base’s lockers where the agents stored their clothes when they wore the usual attire day after day.
— What? — She turned to Ryxer standing in the doorway with his arms crossed.
He let out a bitter laugh with a sigh of impatience, shaking his head.
— How can bring such a creature to the sector, Gwenda?
— It’s Matchstone; get used to it. And if you didn’t like it, I advice you to talk to Raux. I highly doubt she cares about what I do to get my answers.
— Well, clearly bringing a damn elf to the base is out of line. Darcy will kill him when she sees him. If I don’t do first.
Gwenda rolled her eyes and grunted.
— We’ve had prisoners here before, Vannyer. Besides, Darcy won’t touch him. And if she even raised a finger towards the elf, I must say it goes against my work, and I believe I won’t be as useful anymore. We both know that’s not what she wants.
Gwenda had already started rummaging through the agents’ clothes. Someone must have forgotten or left clothes there because they didn’t want a reminder of failure at home. She hardly knew if they were still alive; she hadn’t heard from them again, and Raux didn’t even contact the former agents anymore.
— We both know this will lead us to rock bottom. What will you do if he’s not related to the wall?
— I thought you heard our agreement, Vannyer.
— I heard it, Gwenda. Loud and clear, every word is burning in my head, fuck.
The young woman growled to herself and slammed the last locker shut; The sound reverberated through her bones.
— Don’t call me Gwenda.
Ryxer let out a frustrated breath. His face was red as he ran his hand through it, stretching every inch. Then he rubbed his eyes.
The Shooter opened the shirt in front of her and studied it. It had a few holes, but it would do. The black pants seemed intact, so she decided to take this set for the elf. She knew that soon they would have to find warmer clothes, but for now, it was fine.
— Terrible idea, Matchstone. Terrible idea.
Gwenda didn’t smile at her colleague’s distress, but she swallower hard. She knew it was a risk, but it was worth it. This elf was worth it. The answers he would provide would be worth it. And she had to try.
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If anyone laid eyes on the Northern elf, they wouldn’t hesitate to grab a gun and bury a damn bullet in his heart. No just one, but a series of shots. One after another. Just thinking about if made Gwenda apprehensive.
She looked her colleague.
— Did you come here just to complain about my brilliant idea or to show support? After all, he can help us. — Gwenda shrugged and leaned against the lockers before raising her eyebrows at Ryxer.
The agent breathed in slowly and let out a sigh of irritation.
— Promise me — he pointed a finger at Gwenda, and she slowly opened a smile — that you’ll deny my involvement in this stupid idea until your death.
The Shooter rolled her eyes but raised the two fingers they used to seal the oath.
— I promise.
Vannyer seemed to relax a bit and nodded briefly several times.
— Great. — He said.
— So, does that mean I have you support? — Gwenda asked.
Her colleague sighed and leaned a shoulder against he door, arms crossed again.
— What are you really going to do with this elf, Matchstone?
— Pull out his nails and put them in your coffee.
Ryxer grimaced in disgust and looked away. He seemed about to vomit, and Gwenda chuckled
— Matchstone...
— Kidding, agent. I’m going to ask questions about the wall, see if he has anything that could make a difference in our search.
— And what if he doesn’t even know that the wall was touched by anything other than human hands?
— He’ll be under my watch, and, as we agreed calmly, he’ll be mine for a long time because I saved his life.
— Alright, but what then? — Ryxer shrugged.
— What then?
— When his debit is paid.
— That’s still be thought about, agent. — Gwenda pushed herself off the lockers and started walking towards him. Ryxer lifted his chin. — Until then, there’s no reason to be worried, is there? I offered him respect, everything a mystic would ask for in the midst of creatures that want to destroy them. We’re one step ahead, Vannyer.
— He’s an elf. He can jump three steps ahead of us without me even noticing.
— And I’m the Shooter. — She stopped a few inches from Vannyer. — Have a little faith in me. And let go of the uncertainties.
Gods, how hadn’t she noticed his light brown eyes, like cashew brown? They were beautiful and had a shine of their own that would tale Gwenda’s breath away if she dealt with it before.
Their breaths mingled, and a muscle in Ryxer’s jaw twitched. This made Gwenda smile wryly.
Her colleague put his hands in his pockets, shaking his body with impatience and bringing his face closer to hers.
— I don’t want to have to deal with consequences of this, Matchstone.
Of course he didn’t.
— Then let me handle this and stay out of my way.
— Don’t forget that Raux assigned both of us to solve this case.
— Yes, how could I forget. — Gwenda narrowed her eyes — But it seems that only I know where to start. Besides, you haven’t done anything useful to far. Where are you even today?
Ryxer’s expression turned grim. Gwenda had gone to the arena to have fun, but still. She found and elf, didn’t she? It was worth it.
— At least it wasn’t me having fun with animals.
Gwenda felt the verbal blow enter her body and settle there quietly.
No one besides her knew how much she cared about animals and never wanted any of them suffer, especially at her hands. Gwenda and the Shooter inhabiting her body were completely different, but if the Shooter’s instinct was to kill, it was still Gwenda who was in control.
— Get out of my way. — She snapped.
Ryxer managed to open a satisfied smile, but he didn’t move.
— If I leave this case, Gwenda. — He whispered — We both know that nothing will progress.
It was a threat. He was threatening to leave the case. Fuck it, it would be better. But she knew Ryxer wouldn’t accept it.
The Shooter didn’t think twice before taking the dagger from her hip and pressing it just below Ryxer’s chin with supernatural speed. He lifted his head, and his body tensed.
— Call me Gwenda one more time, and you’ll lose one of your balls. And if you so much as doubt me and question my actions, I’ll rip the other one off with my hands. You know nothing about me. Are you listening? You don't know fuck all about me. So, I suggest you hold your tongue before I rip it out and give it to the shapeshifters. One wrong step, Vannyer, ad it won’t just be bodies of the mystics on the ground.
On the ground. Not buried, on the ground, just like all the creatures she had been hunting.
Gwenda withdrew the dagger from him with a speed that made him step back further and almost take a step back.
— Shave, agent. — She suggested.
Gwenda didn’t need to look the dagger to be sure that she had drawn blood.
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— Shave, agent. Shave. — Ryxer muttered to himself, irritated.
He was in the bathroom. Shaving.
He refused to think that the reason he was now in front of the mirror was because of Gwenda’s opinion.
Ryxer didn’t regret saying that. Anything he had mentioned, he didn’t regret. It was he first time he had managed to annoy her, make her feel small. And maybe the last. But Ryxer didn’t feel as good as he thought he would. None of this went as he expected, especially her reaction. Vannyer didn’t expect to receive her blade ready to slit his throat at the first deviation. He had judged her, the guilt he thought would cover him didn’t even show up.
She had judge him too. Gwenda didn’t know where Ryxer had been today. And maybe it was better that way, he didn’t need anything from Gwenda. Ryxer always knew that living beings were targets in the arena at some point, he just wasn’t sure if today would be the day. Well, it seemed he had guessed right.
This madness of being in the same room... he knew that sooner or later they would need to talk about personal problems. Actually, they shouldn’t really, but when people spend days and days living in the same place, they will eventually uncover each other’s secrets.
Ryxer couldn’t stop thinking that this was how he will find out if Gwenda fits on the lost of suspects. After Gwenda’s lethal threat, he wouldn’t blame her without evidence. Because she had noticed that there was a little district on Ryxer’s side. The Shooter had certainly noticed.
Vannyer put a bandage the same color as his skin on the small wound Gwenda had inflicted. Just to keep it closed and so that no one would see. If any of his coworkers found out that Gwenda had done this... he had the feeling they would laugh at, even though it was a bit idiotic and clueless.
But the biggest concern was that Gwenda would see what she had done to her dormitory mate. Not just the wound, which she was probably as aware of as he was, but also the cowardice Ryxer felt when he fought her with nothing but words. He knew it would be a bit tough to address her without shrinking when she directed anger at him.
She threatened to throw his tongue to the shapeshifters. But which shapeshifters? Would it be those that Gwenda encounters along the way when she goes in search of reports of mystical beings, or those she may have as protection?
Or could it even be someone she is keeping hidden in the sector somewhere that no one ventures into. No, it’s stupid. Ryxer thought and almost laughed at his thoughts. Even though it’s not possible.
Gwenda made it clear who was in charge of this case. Vannyer hoped at some point she could soften her heart just to consider him on the same damn level as her. Because they are both in this case, they were both put as the solvers of this case. They were, indeed, on the same level. And Gwenda basically showed that she had a higher status.
So it was decided. He would provide service and do many useful things until Gwenda saw him as a leader who knows what he’s doing; And not just as a helper who mostly gets in the way. As he had done.
Ryxer rushed out of the bathroom without expecting to find Gwenda already in the dormitory, but still with a glimmer of hope.
She wasn’t there.
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Gwenda repeated Ryxer’s phrase in her head over and over, fearing she might blurt it out unintentionally. She wasn’t having fun. This was more work than anything else, or so she tried to convince herself. She couldn’t choose the targets in the arena and only felt happy participating in this money-making competition when cans or bottles were the detestable targets... Gwenda never ate meat from an animal unless she had raised the poor creature herself. And that was for a simple reason her father had taught her.
One must not mistreat before killing, much less before ingesting. The consequence are never just tough meat to come, but the spiritual matter, the issue of one’s well-being upon eating the flesh of an animal that had its life created and taken with cruelty.
— Girl?
Gwenda blinked and turned her head to the elf siting on his thin mattress, his back against the wall.
— Yes?
He frowned.
— Are you here for... — He gestured with his hand for her to proceed with the reason for being there.
Gwenda had brought clothes for him and something for him to eat — which he apparently devoured every crumb of — and then she had buried herself in the sector’s library, trying to distract herself. It didn’t work, clearly. After some time, she returned to the elf’s cell and saw him drying his hair with a towel, already dressed.
And then nothing happened after that, she just sat there on a bench at hip height.
— What’s your name, North Elf? — She asked.
— I believe North Elf is perfectly already.
— How did you learn to speak our language? I imagine the first language you learned was your own.
— I didn’t learn to speak your language. I learned to speak Telomeron’s language.
Gwenda had expected that.
— You hate the fey.
— That doesn’t change the fact it’s their language.
— Obviously, it doesn’t change. But why learn a language from a species you hate so much?
— If I hadn’t learned, I imagine I wouldn’t be able to communicate with you now. It may be the language of the fey from Telomeron, but it’s the standard language of Alphardj. You humans picked up the filthy fey language. Elvish is much more beautiful and easier. — Gwenda did nothing but listen and stare at him. — But you already knew that.
She gave a smile quickly faded from her face. Yes, she already knew, how did find out, little elf? But the elf only insisted that elvish was perfect just because it was from North. Any elf from South would say it was just inflated ego from their Northern kin.
— You heard about the wall incident, didn’t you?
The North Elf laughed, his arms resting on his raised knees.
— Of course, I heard.
— And what’s your opinion on that?
Gwenda felt uncomfortable on the bench, unable to stretch her legs or lie down. On the bench, she was forced to sit upright on a single small platform. So, she grumbled and descended. She crouched down and sat on the floor, leaning against the opposite wall from the cell bars.
She sat exactly like the elf. Arms resting on her knees and hands meeting in front.
— I don’t have an option. — He simply replied. — I heard rumors that the bomb was a powerful one since it blew up a wall. I thought it was crazy at first that thing even had a reaction.
— It was a weak bomb. Poor.
The North Elf seemed to understand and nodded before stretching his legs, suddenly uncomfortable. Gwenda also stretched her legs.
— So... a weal bomb. Blew the damn wall up. The Carsany Wall. — The elf seemed paler and folded one of his legs, but he was smiling. — Holy shit.
Slowly, Gwenda folded one of her legs. Always being discreet in her movements.
— Exactly what I thought. But I want you to answer what you were doing in the arena.
The mystic turned to her.
— I wanted to steal the apples from the horses. I was hungry. They cornered me and locked me up. Shortly after, they took me to the arena and that happened. And you, what were you doing there?
The North Elf gave a forced smile and pulled his legs closer to his chest. Gwenda mimicked him a second later, sighing.
— I think you could be considered the richest girl in the Capital of Carsany. How old did you say you were?
— Eleven. — He grimaced — Why are you in Carsany, elf. — It wasn’t a question.
— In search of knowledge. — He replied, stretching his legs again. He crossed one foot over the other and started swinging the top one.
Gwenda let out a raspy laugh.
— A North elf in search of knowledge? Since when?
He rolled his eyes, and Gwenda took the opportunity to stretch her legs and cross one foot over the other. She clasped her hands between her thighs, just as he did.
— I’ve been here for almost a month. It was almost a sacrifice not to be on the streets on Labeling Day. You’ve been through it, apparently. How can they do that to people, it’s so... barbaric.
Gwenda felt her chest tighten.
— It is — She agreed lifelessly, lowering her head.
She avoided looking at the mark in the mirror, avoided looking at herself in the mirror these days. And she also didn’t take care of the wound, it was still exposed to anything, even curious glances.
— What knowledge was that, if I may ask — She said then, empty.
The elf sighed and rested his head against the wall. Gwenda couldn’t move because of the sadness that invaded her body, she just stared at her hands buried between her thighs.
— Not to boost your ego, but Carsany’s books are more detailed. Not the best ones, — He quickly emphasized — but more detailed.
— Did you find anything in the public library that pleased you?
— In the what? There’s a public library? Where exactly?
Tired and with her eyes almost closing, Gwenda smiled and replied:
— Someday I’ll take you there, North Elf, or something like that. But first, I want the answers to my questions, please.
He made a noise more like a laugh as Gwenda got up.
— Just because you asked nicely.
When she reached the door and opened it to leave and do one last thing, the elf commented:
— I think I’ll need to eat a bit more, if you don’t mind.
A hint of a smile threatened to appear on her face, but she held back and walked out without saying goodbye or looking back.
When she heard the door close behind her, she let her eyelids droop with a shiver and took a deep breath. The encounter had gone better than she imagined. And she hoped that the nest ones would be the same. Little by little, she repeated to herself, little by little so as not to tire him and become resentful with her questions and visits. When she trusted him and found out everything she needed to know, she could let him out of the cell to help her with what she would need later.
But now Gwenda had to deal with her coworkers. She wasn’t sure how they would react when they found out she was hiding as elf in a compartment of the sector She had to make it clear to Darcy what her intention was with the elf. She went up the room filled with tables and sofas in almost every empty corner. Each place had its pile of paper and clipboard.
Gwenda didn’t mind making a mess to find a blank piece of paper. Then she took a quill and dipped it in black ink. Gwenda wrote a note explaining everything she needed to and at the end wrote something that could soften Raux’s stone heart just a little to accept it all.
She folded the paper and, with the seal of sector 3, she sealed the letter completely and left it on the corner of the table. Before anything else, the young woman took the quill again and wrote “Darcy” on the front. To avoid any misunderstandings, although it was obvious that Gwenda had written this letter. Only she wrote letters to Darcy and used the seal of her own sector to indicate it was her. She had thought about creating her own seal. The seal of the Shooter. But it would cost a fortune and probably the law doesn’t allow anyone to have their own seal beyond the most obvious ones. This thought lasted less than a day, but she always remembered the hope she once had to have her own damn seal.
Gwenda sighed slowly and looked out through the glass door. It was already night and there were no stars in the sky on the side she could see. But she had certain trust in the sky to know that on the other side It was full of bright points.
The Shooter smiled to herself and turned around, heading back downstairs with the intention of sleeping. First, she would take food to the elf, then she could rest or stay awake and work. Either way, tomorrow would be a new day and she didn’t have many expectations.
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And as if the heavens could her Gwenda, the stars began to shine. One by one. Until they formed a cracked line in the sky.
Eight stars in total.
Eight hopes. Eight loves. Eight lovers of the future. Eight heirs.
And amidst all the endless scheme, the sun and the moon merged smiled at Gwenda and the other seven stars of their own sharpness. As if they were unique. United like a family until the power of death broke them apart.