“Once upon a time, I believed my soul to be a nebulous thing. Since coming here, I have discovered that it has a great weight. It holds me down and I can’t escape.”

-Anonymous

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Quinn shifted, uncomfortable, on a seat that she suspect was designed to be just that. She was waiting outside of the Guildmaster’s office for what she believed would be one of the worst tongue lashing she had ever received.

When she had been cast down from heaven, it was more of a formal thing. They had lost their power over her by then anyway. But now…

She had lost two high-level Guild assets for the sake of untested newcomers, given the goblin nation cause for war, and abandoned a valuable piece of Guild tech. But her last crime was worst of all; she had failed. If Angosin had been there, they would have spotted the trap from a mile away and defeated it with ease.

That thought, more than any other, ate at her. Was she doomed to be worthless without him to hold her hand? Had she always been this… incomplete?

Sweat beaded her brow as she went over and over each and every little detail that lead to this spectacular catastrophe. There was a lot of blame to be had and all of it fell squarely onto her shoulders.

She jerked upright as one of the large double doors swung open. Quinn grimaced as Maika, the lone surviving [Assassin], fixed her with what would surely qualify as a [Death Glare] if such a spell or Skill existed. Kabron had been a close friend of hers. Now he was dead.

Maika’s lip curled in disgust at Quinn. The movement caused the thin, white scars covering her dark elven features like a spiderweb to shift and contort into a mask that emphasized her expression. Maika was one of the many who altered their body to create distance between themselves and the generic cloth they all seemed to be cut from.

Quinn let the hatred and disgust wash over her. She deserved it. She had watched, helpless, as the hobgoblin Champion ate Kabron’s Core, with bits and pieces of his heart still attached. Despite all her levels and Skills, she didn’t even try to save him.

Her point made and feelings made clear with a single look, Maika walked past without a word. Quinn bowed her head and continued to wait. She picked apart her every choice in preparation for what was to come. It would be brutal, she could feel it in the air. After what felt like an eternity, the Guildmaster’s [Secretary] spoke up from behind his desk.

“He is ready for you now,” he said, his voice heavy with authority.

To Quinn, ruling a city with a velvet glove was an art that required much more finesse than ruling with an iron fist. There was no reality in which the Guildmaster’s personal [Secretary] was not high-leveled. Despite [Secretary] not being a combat-based Class, no Class was harmless. As such, Quinn made it a point to nod politely before making her way toward the large double doors. She had enough enemies already.

Quinn froze at the doors, unsure of whether or not to knock before entering. Her wings trembled. It was such a minor thing, but fear made the choice seem like an impassable barrier. Thankfully, the [Secretary] took pity on her.

“Go on in. You are expected.”

She wiped the moisture from her eyes and gave him a grateful smile. The stress was getting to her. It was all she could do to bear it.

Upon entry, Quinn was greeted with a gorgeous view of the city. They were at the top of the tallest tower, second only to the Dungeon itself. Behind a great oaken desk, floor to ceiling windows portrayed the sun passing beyond the horizon in a glorious blaze. The world itself was painted in hues of pink, orange, and purple. Nothing was left untouched.

Quinn half expected the Guildmaster to be waiting for her in a [Power Pose] or some such thing, but no. He was enjoying the sun set. Everything its light touched belonged to him. Even her. He had a slip of paper to prove it.

As a [Soul Merchant], that was all he needed.

She waited in silence for him to speak. The light of the dying sun shifted and changed with every passing second. It was a sight of true beauty and one that was unique every night, as sunsets are apt to be. When he finally did address her, his words took her by surprise.

“Although beautiful,” he said, his voice a mix of wistful contemplation and a finality that would make an [Executioner] green with envy. “My city was never meant to be a peaceful one. The price of power is always suffering.”

His words brought memories of her past life to Quinn’s mind, followed closely by thoughts of Angosin’s grand ambitions. The implications made her heart… burdened. In the stillness following the Guildmaster’s philosophical declaration, Quinn found the courage to ask a single question. It one was one that she feared the answer to.

“Always?”

The Guildmaster turned to face her, a wry look on his clean shaven face.

“Many would pretend otherwise, but even a power as soft as wealth is built on the backs of those who must go without. Power is suffering and sacrifice, but the truly powerful aren’t the ones who pay the price.” The Guildmaster’s eyes grew hard. His voice had veins of steel running through it. “One thing I love about this world is that is peels away the veneer of civility. It rewards suffering with levels and marks power with Skills. The System steals our power away and then doles it back out to us as we see fit. When I-”

He caught himself, perhaps realizing he had gone off on a tangent. With a sigh and a small laugh, at his own expense, he waved Quinn forward to take a seat.

“I chose to speak of power for a reason,” he told her as she shifted, unsettled. “I gave you a measure of power at Angosin’s behest. I do not fault you for being ambushed. Goblins are cunning adversaries and this war was a long time coming. However, you sacrificed my [Sword Slayer] for a simple [Body Enhancer]. Explain yourself. Justify the suffering.”

Quinn’s mind whirled. The direction this was going was… unexpected, to say the least. However, this question was one she was prepared for.

“Despite- No. Snowflake has potential as an asset far greater than Kabron was as well as-“

The Guildmaster held up a hand to stop her. She cut off midsentence. He tapped a file on his desk.

“I am well aware of Snowflake’s potential. Angosin was like a child on name day when he came in here to report on his Unique Skill.” The Guildmaster’s eyes seemed to pierce Quinn’s very soul. “This is not about future potential weighed against current usefulness. Tell me why you killed Kabron so that Snowflake could live.”

Quinn swallowed, hard. Her throat was so dry. Why had she not drank a glass or two of water while she was waiting?

“I, um-“ The Guildmaster’s eyes did not waver from hers. It was unnerving. With a small effort of will and a deft weave of light energy, Quinn created an illusionary façade over her eyes, allowing her to look away. It was a small relief. “Honey and Angosin both, uh… They value Snowflake as more than an asset. I was afraid that if I let him die, it might be Honey’s breaking point. And, well, Angosin has high hopes for him.”

Quinn risked a glance back at him. He was looking away now, into nothing. A thoughtful look adorned his face.

“Do you feel the same way?”

This was a variation of a question Quinn had been asking herself the whole trip back here as she watched his broken and battered body being hauled along like common cargo. How did she feel about Snowflake and why? Only now, as the words flowed out of her did she come face to face with the answer.

“Yes, I- There is a naivety to Snowflake. I think it draws people to him. When we became Awakened we all…” She scrambled, searching for the words to portray the feeling. “Lost a certain part of ourselves. An innocence. He still has his.”

The Guildmaster, a high level [Soul Merchant] and puppeteer of all he laid his sight on, hummed softly as he considered her answer. Quinn waited with baited breath for him to react. After what felt like hours, he reached his hand out to the side and snapped. Quinn jumped in her seat, her wings flared out to fly away.

Half a second later, she remembered. An old, familiar shame crept into her chest and she lowered her crippled extremities. Thankfully, it wasn’t an attack.

With a flick of his wrist, the Guildmaster turned over his hand to catch a file that appeared out of thin air. He flipped it open and began to scan its contents.

“How ‘attached’ would you say Honey is to this Snowflake?”

“Enough to lash out if he was lost.”

The Guildmaster chuckled at that, privy to some private joke that Quinn did not understand. He took a few more seconds with the file, before laying it on his desk. With the smooth confidence of a man in complete control, he leaned forward, steepling his hands under his chin.

“Honey feels the chains of her dues more than most. If she is pushed hard enough, she might try to die free and burn down whatever she can, rather than live in the shadow of her [Debt]. What I am asking, is this: can her attachment to Snowflake be used bind her to our side?”

Quinn considered it, the Guildmaster’s eyes watching her as she tried to analyze their relationship on the spot. Sweat dripped down the back of her neck.

“I-I can’t say,” she said, the gravity of his gaze forcing a conclusion from her. “They don’t seem to be romantically involved but-“

The Guildmaster released his pose and leaned back into his chair. Sensing a sudden shift and a strange sense of release, Quinn stopped talking.

“Enough,” he said, a wry smile on his lips. “I have made my decision. Quinn, congratulations on the passing assessment of three new Guild members. With the looming threat of war on the horizon, it seems to me that our newest additions need to level into competent combatants. As such, their trainer will escort them through the first layers of the Dungeon. Under your watchful eye, of course.”

***

Quinn left the Guildmaster’s office confused, but grateful. They had spoken more, but Quinn could tell that the plans he shared with her were incomplete. There was some deeper game being played here. Or, perhaps, the Guildmaster had mastered the art of an [Illusionist] to a far deeper degree than she dared to venture.

Still, Quinn felt troubled. With her mind dwelling on her quandaries, her feet led her through the city to an ugly, square building. She brushed past the reception, invisible to sight and dampening the sound of her passage, a habitual practice.

Before she knew it, Quinn found herself in a hallway that made her feel like the walls, floor, and ceiling were going to start closing in on her at any moment. The only break in the monotony were the plain brown doors marked with a number and little placard with a name engraved in block letters.

Quinn’s feet led her to a certain door. Well, that wasn’t quite the truth. But it didn’t matter. Quinn was less enamored with the truth these days.

She raised her hand and rapped her knuckles against the cheap wood before she could over think it. Angosin was gone and she could talk to whoever she wanted. This was fine.

There was a muffled sound from inside, like someone trying to speak through a pillow. The corner of Quinn’s mouth lifted at the imagery. She waited a few seconds, then knocked again. This time the response was clearer, even if it was still muffled.

“Come in.”

She opened the door to find Snowflake laying on a bed barely big enough to fit him in one of the shitty little rooms that the Guild put all new Awakened into. He probably didn’t even know that they were charging him an insane rate for each day he spent here. She made a silent promise to bring it up at some point, but that wasn’t why she was here.

Snowflake was laying on his back with his Soulbound Companion resting on his chest. He had his face buried in its fur, with one hand gently stroking its back. There was an odd sound in the room that took Quinn a few moments to place. The creature was letting out a noise akin to a whimper or whine with each breath. It was a sound Quinn associated more with dogs than cat-like beasts.

This affectionate side of his Companion was a stark contrast to the last time she saw it. It had been trying, with some measure of success, to rip Ra’hel apart and return to Snowflake’s side. Quinn hoped that the [Healers] would be able to clear up all those cut and claw marks without leaving any trace of scars on the pretty woman’s skin. She wouldn’t wish the mutilation of someone’s appearance on her worse enemy. No one knew better than her how cruel a fate that could be.

Snowflake squinted at Quinn.

“Quinn is that you?” he said, his eyes searching the doorway.

Blushing, Quinn dropped her invisibility. She had forgotten.

“Yeah, I wanted to come by and talk to you about today.”

Quinn would be hard pressed to say that his expression made her feel wanted or welcome. This conversation might be harder than the one with the Guildmaster. However, after a second, his features smoothed out. He lifted a hand to wave her into the room and she froze. There were two fingers missing from his right hand and far too many scars considering he had just gotten treated by the Guild’s [Healers].

He caught her staring.

“Oh, don’t mind the hand. They said they might be able to fix me, but I decided to keep the scars. All of them.”

Quinn did her best to hide her surprise. He had wielded a mace with surprising ferocity before. She doubted he would ever be able to hang onto one in the heat of battle ever again.

Within three strides, Quinn was in the middle of the room and practically brushing against the wall opposite his bed. She stole the chair from a tiny desk and used it to sit next to Snowflake, who hadn’t budged. Leaning forward, she reached out to rest her hand next to his leg. Without hesitation, he stretched out to grab her hand with his.

There is much to be said about the small measures of comfort found in touch.

They sat in comfortable silence until Quinn gathered the courage to speak. They must have gathered the courage at the same time, because they spoke over each other.

“Snowflake, I-“

“Did you know?”

There was no accusation in his voice. He just sounded, exhausted. Exhausted and hurt, like an ancient who had seen the world fail time and time again; like part of the innocence that made him stand apart had been burned away.

“No, they took us by surprise. I did everything I could possibly-“

“Not that,” he said, cutting her off again but softening the blow with a slight squeeze of his remaining fingers. “Did you know the goblins were people? That Natives are no different than us?”

He waited for an answer in silence. Now the silence was oppressive, all comfort having fled with a few soft spoken words.

Her gaze met his and she was forced to look away. The intensity was too much. So much like the Guildmaster’s, yet so different.

“They were just goblins. Monsters.” She said, her voice a halfhearted mumble. In her head, the truth screamed at her.

“People,” he said, correcting her. His tone was not unkind. “Just like me. You.”

“No, they-“ Quinn made to deny it, but the lies were like coals in her throat. Her frustrations began to boil over. They leaked out through her eyes. The dam burst and al lthe pent up things came spilling out, so sudden that it was like a switch had been flipped. Sniffling, she fumbled through her thoughts and words as she tried to explain. “You don’t understand. The Guildmaster is too powerful. They- He owns us and we have to. What was I supposed to- And Angosin says that they’re just fiction. I know they are people, but what am I supposed to do? I can’t do anything.”

Sobs began to wrack her body. All of the bottled up emotions she felt poured forth. She wanted to rage and fight, but she was so alone and helpless. So, she cried. Between tears she whispered that last line to herself, knowing it to be truer than most.

“I can’t do anything.”

Snowflake sat with her while she cried. He didn’t try to explain her feelings away or fix her. All he did was hold her hand and be there. When she began to run out of tears, he finally spoke, saying the two words she so desperately needed to hear.

“I understand.”

She stayed there a while, basking in the company of someone who felt the same guilt and shame that she did. There was a moment when he leaned forward and her heart raced and lips parted, preparing to share a kiss and follow that road wherever it may lead.

However, he did not meet her lips with his own. Instead, he reached up with his free hand to pull her head till her forehead rested against his. Then, he angled his lips to place a gentle kiss on her cheek.

“Thank you for coming to check on me,” he said, his voice soft as to not disturb his sleeping Companion, resting on his lap. “But I think you should go. I have a lot to think about and… Well, I need some time alone.”

Quinn nodded. Tears glistened in her eyes at the dismissal but she was an [Illusionist] and she had already been far too vulnerable for one night. She looked back as he watched her go. Her eyes searched his face, trying to read his expression. She wasn’t sure how she felt about what she saw. In contrast, all he saw was her back as she closed the door behind her.

Quinn leaned against the door and let out a deep sigh. Then, she stood up, straightened her shoulders, and put herself back together. To be an [Illusionist] was to manipulate the truth in many ways, and she had a job to do.