Violet

The tone in the cell block was serious, weighed down by the gravity of the situation. Tension hung thick in the air, palpable even in the dimly lit confines of the prison cell. Every word spoken carried the weight of uncertainty and urgency, as both the general and I grappled with the seriousness of the task at hand. Despite the sombre atmosphere, there was an undercurrent of determination, a sense that even in the darkest of times, there was still hope for a brighter future.

As I sat in my cell, the general stood on the other side of the bars, his gaze fixed on me with a mixture of seriousness and determination. His deep, grounded voice cut through the silence of the prison, carrying with it a weight that made my heart skip a beat.

"I need your help," he said, his tone firm but tinged with urgency.

I blinked in surprise, taken aback by his unexpected request. I had assumed that the general was unyielding, full of resolve, and unwaveringly dedicated to duty. Whatever he needed from me must be of utmost importance.

"What kind of help?" I asked cautiously, and my curiosity piqued despite my apprehension. I slowly began to sit up straighter, my back still pressed against the stone wall.

The general's expression softened slightly, his eyes reflecting the gravity of the situation. "There's a threat looming on the horizon," he explained, his voice low but persistent. "And I believe you have the skills and knowledge to help us confront it."

I furrowed my brow, my mind racing with possibilities. Despite being confined to this cell, fate seemed to have other plans for me. And if the general was asking for my help, then whatever lay ahead must be serious indeed.

"Tell me what you need," I said, my voice steady despite the uncertainty swirling within me. “I might be able to help, but it is hard to do so when you have my people and me locked up."

“I will explain, but I need your help,” he said.

I looked up at the general, my eyes narrowing with suspicion. "Why should I help you?" I asked, my voice tinged with bitterness. "You're the one who locked me up in here in the first place when I came here in friendship."

The general met my gaze with a steady stare, my expression unreadable.

"I understand your frustration, Violet," he said, his tone softening slightly. "But the threat we're facing is greater than both of us. We need every able hand we can get if we're going to stand a chance against it."

I scoffed, crossing my arms defensively. "And what makes you think I'll be willing to help after being treated like a criminal?" I retorted, my voice tinged with anger.

The general sighed, his gaze dropping momentarily, before meeting my again. "Because I believe you're better than that," he replied earnestly. "I know you have the skills and the courage to make a difference. And deep down, I think you know it too."

I hesitated, the general's words striking a chord within me. Despite my anger and resentment, I couldn't deny the truth of what he was saying. I had spent too long dwelling on my grievances when there was a world outside my cell that needed my help.

"Fine," I said, my voice softening slightly. "But this better be worth it."

The general nodded, a faint smile touching his lips. "Trust me, Violet," he said. "It will be."

I leaned forward, trying to be the bad-ass bitch I always wanted to be, and I tried to make my gaze deadly as I addressed the general. "How about you start by telling me why I am in a cell and we aren’t discussing this in the counsel room with the other two city leaders?" I demanded, and my voice was tinged with frustration.

Stormborn sighed, running a hand through his hair as he considered my question. "There are complications," he admitted, choosing his words carefully. "This matter requires discretion, and I believed it best to speak with you privately before involving the others."

I raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Complications? What kind of complications?" I pressed, my tone unyielding.

Marcus Stormborn hesitated, his expression troubled. "I'm afraid I can't go into details right now," he said, his voice grave. "But I assure you, once we've addressed the immediate threat, we'll reconvene with the other leaders and discuss everything openly."

I nodded, though my skepticism remained. "I'm not going to cut it," I said. "You better have a good explanation for keeping me in the dark."

The general met my gaze with a solemn nod, his eyes reflecting the weight of the conversation. "I promise you, Violet, everything will become clear. I need your help," he said, his voice earnest.

I leaned back against the stone wall of the cell, frustration evident in my expression. "Just spill the beans, Marcus," I demanded, my tone impatient.

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"What beans?" Marcus asked, puzzlement clear on his face.

"Damn it, idioms," I muttered, shaking my head. "Just spit it out."

Silence hung heavy in the air as Marcus hesitated, his brow furrowed in thought.

"Just tell me," I pressed, my voice softer now. "I'm not going anywhere. I can't help if you don't tell me."

Marcus took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he was about to reveal. "It deals with the fate of the city," he began, his tone grave. "Have you ever asked the question, Why don't we have any gods in this city?"

"No, I never had a chance to figure that out," I admitted, my curiosity piqued.

"Because the gods are at war, and we tried to stay out of it," Marcus explained. "We were hoping that the tide would wash over us and we would be fine."

"Switzerland, you wanted to be Switzerland," I remarked.

"What is that?" Marcus asked, genuinely curious.

"Simple, it's a place famous for staying neutral in wars. Well, famous for being neutral and chocolate," I replied with a faint smirk.

“Then yes, we wanted to be Switzer Land,” Stormborn said with an odd pause between Switzer and Land.

“So, what gods are at war?” I asked. Reflecting on my conversations with the Huntress, to be fair, there were only like two times I had actually talked with her, and in the first one, I was just a floating spirit in the void.

“Do you know of the Wolf clan?” the general asked with a tone of dread and rage mixed together.

“Yeah, I had a few battles with them. Do they have a god that is at war with humans?” I asked.

“Yes, one of the most evil of beings. It was the cause of the downfall. I am afraid that they might have agents in my city. I am afraid one of the council members might have betrayed us to that evil god for personal gain. I need your help to find out who.”

“Wait, let me guess, am I going to be bait?”

The general just nodded.

“Isn’t that just what every girl dreams of hearing? Not being asked to prom, but being asked to be bait for a super death god.”

“What is a prom?”

I ignored the question, with an eye roll more to myself than the older man before me, and asked one of my own. “Alright, what is the plan?”

*****

Shadow from the market

The night draped over the city like a velvet cloak, concealing secrets within its folds. In the heart of the metropolis, where the neon lights cast eerie shadows, the Shadow prowled the streets like a spectre. Their mission was to gather intel on a notorious stranger new to town.

Moving with silent steps, Shadow slipped through the alleyways, their senses sharp and attuned to the slightest disturbance. They blended seamlessly with the darkness, like a phantom navigating the urban labyrinth. Their attire, a tailored suit, was as much a disguise as it was a statement of sophistication in the underworld.

The target's whereabouts were uncertain; the owner behind the airship, hidden behind layers of clandestine dealings. But the Shadow was relentless. They lost them after one human left the market and joined her party, but they knew that shadows held the truth, and the Shadow was determined to unveil it.

They heard from one of their sources in the city hall that the newcomers were arrested. The Shadow was going to find out for themselves if this was true.

As they crept closer to their destination, they caught whispers of conversations and exchanges of hushed words that carried on the night breeze. Information was currency in this world, in the Shadow’s world, and they were poised to collect it.

Ducking into the cover of an abandoned building, they surveyed the scene through a pair of night-vision goggles. The meeting was about to take place in an obscure holding facility on the outskirts of the city. The shadow was observed from the gloom as figures emerged, their faces obscured by darkness and deceit.

With practiced precision, the Shadow moved through the administration section of the military prison, their movements as silent as the whisper of a breeze. Clad in dark attire that seemed to absorb the very light around them, they navigated the corridors with a grace that bordered on the ethereal. The air was thick with tension as they closed in on their target, every step calculated and deliberate.

But just as they reached out to grasp the truth, the shadows seemed to shift, betraying their presence. A sudden flicker of movement caught their eye, and before they could react, a spotlight illuminated their figure, casting them into stark relief against the darkness. Caught off guard, the Shadow found themselves surrounded by armed guards, their escape routes cut off, and their mission hanging in the balance.

For a moment, they stood frozen in place, the weight of their failure heavy upon them. But then, with a flicker of movement, they vanished into the darkness once more, leaving behind only whispers and uncertainty in their wake.

Caught in the crosshairs of danger, Shadow didn't falter. They moved with a swiftness born of desperation, evading detection by a hair's breadth. But their cover was blown, and they found themselves facing the barrel of a gun. In that moment, time seemed to slow as Shadow weighed their options. But they were not alone in the shadows. With a flicker of movement, another figure emerged, swift and silent as a wraith.

The Shadow's breath caught in their throat as they looked down at their chest, where a dagger was sticking out, just above their hearts. Blood welled around the wound, staining their dark clothing crimson. Before they could fully comprehend the gravity of their situation, they felt a wire wrap around their neck, tightening with each passing second.

Panic surged through them as they struggled against the wire, their vision growing hazy as their air supply dwindled. With desperate movements, they reached for the dagger embedded in their chest, their fingers slick with blood. With a surge of adrenaline, they managed to grasp the hilt and pull it free, the pain nearly overwhelming.

But even as they fought for their lives, the wire continued to constrict, its grip unyielding. Darkness encroached upon their vision, and in their final moments, they realized that they had been betrayed. The shadows that had once been their allies now closed in around them, swallowing them whole as their consciousness faded into oblivion.

In their last moments, they heard the words, “Send word to the general; we caught something in the net.”