Perched on the edge of the Keep's roof, Rhody’s muscles seethe like a forge stoked to its limit, her arms quaking as she pulls against a rope. Her breath bursts out in ragged hisses, each exhale a battle. Below, the pack swings like a mule caught in quicksand—stubborn, heavy, and unwilling to budge. It clings to the tower’s face, its weight dragging against the stone and mocking her every effort.
“Move,” she growls through gritted teeth. The coarse rope tears at her palms. Her fingers ache with the urge to let go, to release the cursed thing and let it crash into the shadows below. But the thought of Zeph’s cutting disappointment and the stakes of their mission chain her to the task.
The village of Row looms below, its scattered lanterns like a constellation of stars. Sounds of chaos simmer up from the windows across the Keep: the sharp crack of gunfire, the ring of steel meeting steel, and the hollers of some spoiled brat who hasn't shut up since they started their climb. All of it fades, eclipsed by the fibers of the rope biting into her hands and the inferno raging in her limbs.
The powerful rhythm of Applause's barks ends, and Rhody returns to her senses. Shit, she's run out of bullets.
The pack has to reach the roof. If Rhody falters now, their entire mission could crumble like a castle of cards.
She jerks at the rope, and the pack scrapes upward with a reluctant screech. Rhody gasps at the movement, dragging in icy air. For a fleeting moment, hope stirs in her. “Almost there,” she whispers, the words pleading.
She leans back, bracing her blistered feet against the roof's edge. The motion sends a shiver of terror through her. One misstep, and she’ll tumble over the edge. She grits her teeth.
“Come on,” she hisses, her voice edged with desperation. She can see Zeph’s smirk in her mind, hear her sharp, irreverent quip: Slowing down’s for people who don’t have a warlord to kill. The words carve into her.
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Zeph thinks I can do this.
Another heave. The pack inches higher. Sweat stings her eyes, blurring her vision, and frustration wells up within, threatening tears she refuses to shed.
Tools, ammunition, Zeph's logbook—the pack carries everything they need to bring down Karich Urough. She won’t fail. She can’t.
"Rhody!" She hears Zeph's commanding voice and flinches, her grip tightening. Damn it, why am I so weak?!
Zeph is incredibly capable, but she isn’t invincible. And she certainly isn’t patient. If the pack doesn’t reach the roof soon, Rhody’s tender palms will be the least of her problems.
The pack grates upward, inch by agonizing inch. Rhody pauses, her head drooping forward as she gulps air. Her body shakes, her arms feel like jelly, and the temptation to tie off the rope for a moment’s rest gnaws at her resolve. No one would know.
I would know.
With a feral growl, Rhody squats and yanks one last time. The pack lurches, cresting the edge and teetering back against her as she lands on her ass.
Rhody collapses onto the cold stone, her limbs splayed, her chest heaving. The length of the Tower blurs in her vision, mocking her exhaustion with its indifferent glow.
“Never again,” she mutters, her voice hoarse.
"Rhody!" Zeph shouts again, jolting her upright. The battle below rages on. Groaning, she drags herself to her knees and grips the pack like a stubborn beast. With one determined motion, she slings it over her shoulder.
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Below, in the Keep's kitchen, Zeph moves with feral grace. Her every step is sharp, deliberate. She whips about the room with Applause, parrying sword strikes with its barrel.
A guard charges, the tip of his saber driving toward her midsection. Zeph doesn’t dodge—she flows, her long coat flaring out behind her. The blade whistles harmlessly past her side. Spinning on her heel, she rounds Applause with the precision of a striking viper. The man collapses to the ground, knocked out cold.
"This is your defense, Karich?!" Zeph bellows, her voice cutting deep into the Keep's labyrinthine tunnels. “Send me someone worthy!”
Her words barely settle before another guard barrels toward her, a jagged blade raised high. His face twists in a grimace of desperation, his eyes flickering between Zeph and the fallen already littering the ground. He charges with a roar, but Zeph steps into his momentum, her motion incredibly sudden. The butt of Applause slams into his temple with a crunch. His roar dies in his throat as he rebounds against a stone wall. Zeph catches the hilt of his falling blade, spinning it into her free hand without missing a beat. She resumes her hunt.