The night it had happened, Diane slept like a rock. Everything had been so exhausting she didn't have the energy to think about it. Her Uncle closed the bar for the next few days under the order of the Citizen's Gaurd, leaving her plenty of time to think about everything that had occurred. The day went by in a haze, and as the waning moon rose again the fog in her mind lifted with it. She finally began to think through everything that happened the night before.

That boy, the one who had spoken to her at the bar. She hadn't caught his name but had been fascinated by his mysterious demeanor. The way she had almost missed his presence entirely before taking his order. His alluring, dangerous voice. How he made sure to keep his hood low, but was surprisingly gentle and honest when asking for her help. She had almost been convinced to open up to him about things she had never shared before, feeling like a spell had fallen over her.

Still, in time Diane would have forgotten him given all the customers she had to serve each day.

But now, she never could. Her mind couldn't stop thinking of him.

It was her job the night it happened to fend off any animals, should they try to get into the wine crates out back. There was no room inside for storage, so they were hidden under boxes of empty bottles out back so people couldn't find them. Animals had better noses, however, making them the only real thieves to worry about. What a bunch of furry scavengers wanted with alcohol she'd never know, but that night she had heard the sounds of rustling and boxes shifting. The oil lantern swayed in the evening air as she trudged along the dirt path, peeking around the corner only to find the man who had been causing her so much trouble drunkenly stumbling about.

That drunken fool had been visiting the tavern nearly every night recently. It felt like it was just to harass her. The problem started with lustful looks as he stared openly at her breasts, and then became jeering comments about her thin waste or sexual maturity. He had even made a 'joke' that if she didn't 'Find a man soon she would be treated like a breeding sow.'

Her face had burned bright red, white-knuckled fists nearly cracking through the wooden serving tray. On strict orders from her Uncle, she couldn't do anything. She couldn't even comment when he had gotten bolder, groping her ass as she passed by his seat.

At night, she lay awake with fantasies of his head on a spike.

As she rounded the corner that fateful evening, he saw her before she could slip away. Sweaty palms reached out to her, feet shuffling ever closer to where she stood. What began as calm and collected pleas to stay back became increasingly nervous glances to make a break for it. He must have noticed her panic, however, and used his full weight to push her over, hands firmly on her wrists, pinning her down. Thrusting and rubbing like a wild dog, his grip only loosened the moment he reached away to pull down his trousers, freeing her arms. Both her hands shot up with the opportunity, thumbs jamming into his eyes as she thrashed about. He cried out, falling backward off of her.

She could have run, but she didn't. Instead, her trembling legs made a pilgrimage to the glass bottles, aching fingers yanking one free from its confinement. It shattered as she smashed it against the wall, leaving behind jagged teeth protruding from a hungry glass jaw. A long, sturdy piece of glass fallen at her feet called to her, and she answered its cry, picking it up as it pinched with delight into her palm's soft flesh.

It was a blur as she hurtled forward. Eyes focused on his chest, her aim was true as the glass pierced through his skin, digging deep into the body cavity and right into the squishy containments of his heart.

He gurgled, gaze blearily looking downward. One hand began to reach up for it, but she pushed harder. Blood gushed from his mouth and wound in synergy, soaking into her white nightgown.

She released her grip, and the thud of his body to the ground was the last sound he made.

Diane walked backward, each step an unsteady pairing with the earth below. The adrenaline still raged, but the reality of the situation began to seep in, cooling her anger into an icy fear. Her dress was covered in blood, her hair muddy, the weapon still in her hand. Patrol guards could round the corner at any moment, or someone could light a torch and peer through an open window.

It was all over. Her mind raced with the urge to run, but her body remained stubbornly rooted to the ground.

Then, he landed beside her. It felt like one of Diety Ysid's messengers had arrived to save her, but that idea quickly deteriorated in the face of his unabashed show of chaos. As she screamed for help, following along with his game in a wild daze, his dark red eye glowed with terrifying power. It compelled her to obey, to watch the performance play out, and so she did.

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Only when it was all over did she realize he'd saved her. Had taken complete responsibility for a murder he didn't commit, just because...? Was it because he pitied her? Found her beautiful? All those reasons felt too shallow for such an emboldened act.

"You want more out of this life, don't you Diane?"

She gazed unfocused at the street below, bustling with people headed home from work for the evening. Their shoes scraped against the stone paths, mixing with unintelligible chatter, shouts, and laughter. Were they all satisfied? Did they live like her, unfulfilled and trapped, but pretending everything was okay?

Lamplighters wandered through as the shadows darkened, fulfilling their evening duties of sparking the street lights. One by one, the oily flames fought back against the coming night, covering the road in a series of flares.

A sudden movement in the dark caught Diane's attention. Her eyes snapped to the source, watching as a strange, twisting shadow slipped back into an alleyway. Sharp gusts of wind rattled the lanterns, encouraging her away from the window as she peered through the breeze that tangled her locks of red hair. She reached forward to close the shutters and latch the window.

Then, a hand reached up over the sill.

Diane tripped over herself in surprise. When she hit the ground her eyes were as wide as a doe's locked on the hunter's barrel, her mouth agape in a silent scream. She held her breath in shock, and when her body became desperate for air Diane let out a choked hiccup.

Another hand followed the first, and the stranger pulled themselves up and over into her room with frightening ease, feet hitting the floorboards without sound. They wore long black pants with a white tunic tucked into them. Puffed white sleeves and a loose fit gave the appearance of a swashbuckler or nobleman. A dark black hood ran down the length of their body, shifting as their head moved, gaze meeting her own. A black masquerade mask donned their face, the cheap kind people would buy for festivals. Underneath the mask, one eye looked back at her, a blood-red.

"You." Diane managed, breathless as a whisper.

The stranger approached, swift and silent. A crooked grin eased its way onto his lips, full of mischief. He opened his mouth to speak.

"Wait!" Diane cried, pushing herself upward to meet him eye to eye. "Don't speak, let me-" She paused, chest heaving with having nearly passed out from fear a few seconds ago, "Let me say something." One hand caught her knee as she bent over, breathless.

Diane didn't know why this person had come back, but as she thought everything over she realized this person might be the answer. All her life she had tried to gain the courage to go off on her own, to take the risky path in hopes she could find answers. But to do what she wanted to do was to forsake a life of light, to walk in the darkness. To live beside those with corrupt hearts and hedonistic greed in the depths of the Outreaches, or behind the bars of prison. Because of this, she had always been too afraid. Too weak.

But this person, this crazy stranger, had risked everything to free her from the horrible crime she committed. If he was here to kill her, blackmail her, or anything else, it didn't matter. She would shoot her pitch and give this a chance.

"Let me work for you!" She stated, eyes flaming with passion. Her back was straight and tall, fists clenched at her sides. The boy cocked his head in response, smile gone. "I want you to show me," She continued, desperate, "How to live the life you do. I'll...do anything."

"What life?" The figure asked. Was he mocking her? Or was this a test?

She didn't break eye contact. "Whatever life gives you the power, the strength, to not care about becoming a wanted murderer. You must be a powerful figure in the Outreaches; take me with you. I can be of use."

The stranger stared at her, his face giving nothing away. He turned on his heel and strode towards the windows, pushing them closed and fastening the latch. It appeared he was staring out of them, lost in thought.

"What can I call you?" She asked, trying to achieve familiarity to get a foot in the door.

"Raven..." He mumbled, almost like he wasn't paying attention, but she knew better.

"Sir Raven, please consider this. I am certain I can become a powerful asset for you, strength runs in my family." She coerced, kneeling on the ground in submission.

Raven turned around, eyeing her up and down.

"What is it that you want?" He asked.

"I..." She began, heart pounding. Her palms had grown sweaty and pale. "My parents. They were murdered, and the King covered it up. There was never any investigation. They served this land with all of their hearts, and were left to rot the moment it put the pathetic nobility at a political disadvantage!"

"You think someone higher up did this?" Raven retorted.

"I know it. Before my home was seized and I was given to my uncle, the man addressed me himself. I'll never forget his face. I don't know his name, but he alluded to the crime when it was just us in the foyer." She recalled, seething at the memory.

Raven's eyes furrowed, in either sympathy or suspicion. Diane couldn't tell. Having just verbally accused the king of criminal acts had left her dizzy. Did the room always spin like this? Still, she finished strong.

"I want him dead." She admitted, the words escaping her mouth in a flurry. Their weight left her lips parted and trembling. "I think you can help me. Find him, and kill him." Her sentences were beginning to come out in fragments. At some point, her gaze had lowered and focused on the floor. She couldn't find the courage to raise it and meet Raven's eyes.

A minute of silence passed, but for Diane it felt like both seconds and hours all at once, her mind a mess of fear and anticipation.

Finally, Raven addressed her.

"How about a deal, then?" He offered, his impish grin reamerging.