The morning sky was clear as last night’s clouds had fallen, creating a misty fog that veiled the vacant streets. The city was at peace. Pedestrians were scarce and shop owners opened their doors, shielding their eyes and basking in the light of the rising sun.

An attractive woman stood in the doorway of one such store, a small dessert shop with pink shutters. A feeble draft arose, stirring the thin fog and startling the woman. She looked around the street and mumbled to herself, tucking a loose strand of her long, brown hair behind her ear.

Only when she re-entered the shop did she let out a relieved sigh. The last couple of days were hard on her, but now that her son has left the plateau she had no regrets.

“Hey, Emma!” a different woman’s voice called from the shop’s backroom. “Can you take care of any customers for an hour? I forgot something at home.”

Emma smiled and shouted, “Come back soon, I don’t know how long I can hold on without the owner!”

She was gifted with a lighthearted chuckle as the back door closed, leaving Emma alone in the shop.

Not wasting time, she got to work. Packing, organizing, cleaning, etc., there were a large variety of tasks ahead of her. Due to minimal business, the owner, a long-time friend of Emma’s, had her employees take a vacation until traffic picked up. Emma didn’t mind the work, even though her back was sore.

Truth be told, she was quite tense. She had woken up to a cold sweat, one much worse than usual. Even after taking a warm shower, she hadn’t gotten better. Emma felt uneasy, as if an executioner’s blade was looming over her neck. It was when she began working that she realized. “Today might be the day that I get recaptured.”

A small bell above the front door rung as Emma finished wiping the sandy table-tops, signaling the arrival of a customer.

“Welcome.” She placed down the rag and walked behind the glass counter, checking if all the sweets were in order. “What can I do for you.”

The voice of a young man exclaimed, “Oh! This place is wonderful. No wonder you decided to escape here; it’s much nicer than my manor.”

His ludic voice caused Emma to shudder. She looked up. Despite never having heard his voice, she instinctively knew who it was. Wearing a frayed black cloak with the hood drawn over his head, Monty Thorne stood like the reaper himself, nonchalantly surveying the shop.

The very thought of him re-capturing her scared her more than she ever would have previously believed. Despite having never seen him, she could easily identify someone of his level of infamy. Just a few of his studies forced the haughty Greysons to acknowledge him as the fourth greatest researcher on the plateau. Who knew what revelations he hadn’t revealed to the public.

“Hey, can I get the owner’s recommendation?” Monty requested, happily playing the role of a customer. Emma realized that his eyes had been studying the display case for some time now, yet he hadn’t picked anything out from the vast selection of desserts.

“I – I would recommend the almond scones with maple crème and tea,” she stuttered, partially confused but mostly fearful.

“Then I’ll have that, thank you,” Monty replied gratefully.

Emma bowed slightly and scurried off to bring the scone. The uncanny black cloak he was wearing, encasing his face in shadow, the fact that he experimented on her, and this morning's premonition created the image of something other than human in her mind. She had never felt an anticipatory fear of this level before.

Monty patiently waited for ten minutes before Emma stumbled back, nearly dropping the treats. She could only be described as a nervous wreck. After managing to place down the sugary breakfast, she opened her mouth to speak.

“Why don’t you take a seat, Emma? There are some things I want to talk about,” Monty said while taking off his cloak, revealing his unkempt black hair and the large bags that merged with his dark eyes. He wore a white shirt and black shorts, indifferent to the temperate weather.

Monty picked up a scone from his plate and took a bite. Feeling that his mouth was dry, he put down the scone and took a sip of tea. Humming in delight, he felt glad that he left the decision up to Emma. He's always been an avid fan of tea.

But despite his enthusiasm, Monty appeared exhausted. His t-shirt and shorts exposed his skinny limbs that lacked both fat and muscle. Emma straightened her back seeing his frail, human appearance. Gritting her teeth, she sat down at the opposite side of the table. Monty wiped his lips with a napkin and looked at her for the first time since entering the shop.

“You know... you are very lucky,” he remarked, carrying a look of intrigue. Emma scrunched her face, confused. Monty felt it was a strange thing to say as well; her House collapsed, she was kidnapped and sold as a lab rat, cut open, and barely managed to escape with her son. But she was lucky, she was alive after all.

Monty continued, still looking at her as if she were some fantastical being, “If I went out to fetch you yesterday, before my informant provided his report, you would have ended up dead on a laboratory table. Truly lucky.”

Emma blanched and clenched her hands. Monty let her think about how close she had been to death, without even knowing it. A sliver of hate exposed itself within her eyes.

Relaxing her hands, she questioned, “Then why am I not on a lab table right now? Why have you come here?”

Monty looked at the wall-mounted clock and sighed before replying, “I’ll answer the latter, first. Because of your escape, the Greyson’s believed it would be a good idea to attempt to scam me. So I did a bit of trickery and wrote a contract that will help me out greatly.”

He took a deep breath. “Essentially, if the Greyson’s can’t find you after two weeks, I get a bunch of free goods. Therefore, I won’t let them find you,” he paused, taking a moment to think, “As for your first question, the weather was bad, so I didn’t go.”

Saying what he wanted to say, Monty took a sip of tea, well aware that the real reason had nothing to do with the weather. Emma raised her eyebrow. Monty was playing with fire by taking advantage of the Greyson’s like that. They were the plateau’s overlords, if he pushed too far… but she understood the sentiment. They tried to scam him, so he was just returning the favor, even if it may come back to bite him.

Monty chuckled, and as if reading her thoughts said, “Of course, I wouldn’t take such a risk over something as petty as spite. The world runs on benefits, after all. I made sure there is no chance that the Greyson’s will do anything besides fulfilling the contract.”

Emma’s mouth hung open for a moment before immediately closing. Monty rested his eyes, well aware that his confidence would appear conceited. But it wasn’t arrogance, he had taken precautions. The Greyson’s wouldn’t dare harm him with his backing. He couldn’t help but review his new plans again, his thoughts spiraling into darkness.

Feeling the dryness disappear from his eyes, Monty opened them only to find Emma staring at him strangely. Noticing his numb arm, Monty blinked in realization; he had fallen asleep.

“Ah, excuse me. The night had been very long, normally this would never happen,” Monty chuckled, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment. Of course, he hadn’t actually fallen asleep, it was a simple test of Emma’s character. To not attack him in his moment of "weakness" was inconceivable. Monty could only sigh in awe; her morality truly was extreme.

Now that he was awake, Emma questioned him.

“What do you want me to do?” she asked, realizing he wouldn’t be talking to her without a reason.

Monty nodded approvingly. If Emma had wasted any more of his time, he would have started questioning her intelligence. By sneaking out of the manor alone, he had taken a massive risk. In part, it was due to him not having anyone he trusted enough for this task, but primarily to show his sincerity. Speaking to Emma unescorted, there was no better way to express his willingness to co-operate.

He answered her earnestly. “I want you to be my personal retainer. Currently, I don’t have anyone I can rely on in the House of Thorne. Most servants don’t serve me, and those who do can defect to my uncle’s side at any second. I need someone I can trust.”

He met her eyes with his own, “Please work for me.”

His offer left Emma speechless; her face morphed from confusion to sympathy to indecision. Monty felt she was quite incredible. Her experiences would shake any normal person to their core, yet she was unaffected. Or maybe she was affected, but her nature overcame these external influences, beating logic with emotion. Such a person was very rare, even he himself couldn’t help but think logically.

Monty unconsciously smiled, noticing her attitude towards him brighten. Just a little more and he would be able to continue studying all the effects of her rune.

Just as he was lost in thought, a violent pulse originated from Emma, shaking her chair and table. Like a transparent wave of red, it expanded around her, heating up the room. Monty sprung out of his seat, shocked without façade. His mouth hung open; Monty recognized the fluctuation. Thinking of what the wave signified… it couldn’t be, could it?

“Agh!” Emma cried out in pain. The now healed scar on her back flared up in pulsating, agonizing waves as a fiery glow flickered just below her nape. Her back was ablaze, the red glow of fire piercing through her dress with ease. She twisted her arms, grabbing, clawing at her back in vain. The torment overwhelmed her, causing Emma to attempt one final struggle while tears flowed out of her eyes. It was all in vain as she ended up collapsing, unconscious.

Monty grabbed Emma before she could fall out of her seat. He was dumbfounded that she would obtain her third rune at such a place and time. He looked up, squinting at the sky above. Truly peculiar timing. He could only hope these unexpected occurrences didn’t persist.

The crimson rune continued to glow, casting a kinetic spotlight that ended up illuminating the ceiling. Emma now lay on the glass counter, her face turned away from the shop’s windows. No one besides those directly involved noticed this disturbance as the morning was young and fog opaque.

Wiping the sweat off his forehead, Monty seriously considered exercise. His physical strength was next to nothing. Emma trembled on the counter, worrying Monty that she might shatter it. Why had he moved her to the counter instead of just dropping her on the floor? Cursing himself, Monty realized he had panicked.

He quickly lifted her horizontally, his arms supporting her chest and thighs, and placed her face down on the floor. Emma was lucky that she was such a hard worker, the tiles shone spotlessly from when she washed them less than an hour ago.

Monty rushed back to his seat and buttoned his cloak, drawing a small knife from an inner pocket. The blade was thin, like that of a scalpel, and completely grey. It appeared to be made of some stone, lacking the luster one would expect from a metal.

Using the knife, Monty cut open her dress, freeing the trapped luminescence. It was as if a spewing volcano were compacted and placed on Emma’s back. Even Monty felt the sight was quite nasty. Her flesh was burnt to a crisp, craters and canyons of decay coated her back in a foul-smelling landscape. Beneath her nape, where her tissue and bone lay bare, was the culprit.

It was a rune, specifically, a fabled rune.