Winifred supposed that it was only a matter of time before the Ratling or Zacharias showed up. Although she’d really been counting on the Halfling to put in an appearance. A lot had happened to her in the last three months and, while she felt pleased to be back in familiar surroundings, by far the worst of it all was that she’d been forced to go cold turkey.

Three whole months without Chasing The Dragon…

She didn’t miss the physical effects of the heightened strength and speed. Becoming Chosen had made her faster and stronger than the Dragon’s Blood ever had. So she’d figured that she could live without it. What a fool she’d been all this time! She’d always considered herself to be a cut above the fools in The Slums who Chased The Dragon for the high and yet she’d found that it was exactly that she was missing…

It was much too easy, she’d discovered, to give in to those despairing feelings without the comfort blanket of Dragon's Blood numbing her pain. She’d made a lot of mistakes in her life and they all seemed so much sharper, so much more painful with nothing to take the edge off. Hells, even looking into the mirror was a task and a half when all she saw was a stupid little rich girl who’d hit rock bottom.

She watched, scratching the inside of her elbow with agitation as The Rat entered her small abode. After coming from a mansion with its countless rooms and valuable antiques and stupid, pointless furniture that was only there to look good, she liked to keep things simple.

She had her training dummy pressed against the northern wall, her battered old punching bag next to it. To the left of that was her small kitchen area with its tiny mana-powered stove and a couple of cupboards. Next to her kitchen was the little seating area with the couch she’d rescued from an alleyway and the wonky wooden table she used to put her feet up on.

Finally, in the last corner, was her double bed. It was a little rickety and had a tendency to creak loudly when she turned over, but it was comfortable enough. She’d made sure to get herself a well-stuffed mattress and extra pillows. There was nothing like flopping onto it after a hard fight. She’d made it even cozier with her homemade blanket… which was lying in full sight of the rest of the room, her crochet hooks laid neatly atop it.

Hurrying over to the bed, she quickly plucked the blanket up, balled it up, and shoved it under the mattress as quickly as she could. Apparently, she hadn’t been quick enough…

“Didn’t think you were someone who liked to knit,” Skrakch said with a smirk as he took in the sights.

“It’s crochet actually,” She replied before she could stop herself. When The Rat’s smirk widened she glared at him and hastily changed the subject. “So, I suppose ye want tae know where I’ve been aye?”

“Precisely,” Skrakch replied, sitting down on the couch with all the grace and decorum of a wild beast. “Start by explaining what happened to you with Fang’Mel, he didn’t exactly clue us in when he took you away.”

Winifred shuddered at the mere memory, taking a second to collect herself before busying herself at the small lead stove-top. She might not welcome many guests to her small home but she certainly knew how to treat them. Setting a pot of water boiling she reached for two tin mugs, as she started to tell her side of the story.

“The last thing I remember was crushing that Elven fucks Sykes’ head against the ground,” She started to explain as she pulled her tea caddy out of one of the cupboards. She tried to ignore the full-body ache she’d been feeling since her last hit. “Next thing I knew, I was wakin’ up in some sort of hospice. Horrid place it was…dingy and stank to all Hells. Ye could tell the bloody doctors they had there was nae used to workin’ on the living,” She winced at the memory. “Thankfully, they did nae keep me there long. Nae, Fang’Mel brought me tae see the Dreaded Archmage himself.”

“Huh,” Skrakch interrupted. “So I suppose what I read was true then… I heard they make new Chosen promise to protect the city, or some such bollocks.”

“Aye, seems that way,” Winifred continued as she finished making the tea. “All he seemed tae want was for me to sign some contract affirming I would nae use my powers to act against the City’s best interest,” She set the Ratling’s tea down on the table and took hers over to the bed and perched on the end of it. “The things I saw though…I’m tellin’ ye. Those Tomb-Makers are way more prepared than I thought. Ye always assume most of ‘em are on the Inner City walls. Well, I’m tellin’ ye Rat, that’s nae a quarter of ‘em. They did nae have tae tell me twice to sign the bloody thing. There’s no way anyone would win if they got on their bad side…”

“I always thought as much,” The Rat replied, looking pensive for a moment. Winifred stared into the dark depths of her tea. She wanted to grab the wee beast and demand he tell her where she could find Zacharias. The wee man would be quick to scratch her itch. “And what about your Pact? I was hoping…since I wasn’t exactly…with it last time, that I could see it? Is it something that’s hard to replicate?”

Winifred sighed deeply. She should’ve been expecting that. She put down her mug and hauled herself off the bed. She stepped over to her training dummy. Summoning her Core, she could feel the Mana start to boil and hiss as usual. However, as she focused on the very center of the Core, she could feel a second compact clump of Mana there, just waiting to be used.

Opening her eyes, she pulled that Mana outwards, letting it course through her veins. With gritted teeth, she channeled forth her Crux.

Break…

She could feel the new power roiling through her body, the energy practically rampaging through her veins. Thankfully the Mana seemed eager to respond, flowing into her limbs as quick as she willed it, pushing her physical strength past its limits.

A quick jab took off the dummy’s head. A follow-up kick exploded its chest, sending hay flying everywhere. She turned around to face The Rat, barely feeling breathless, despite the power behind her attacks. She couldn’t help but grin as she clocked his slack-jawed expression.

For a beat, she felt so much better. Her body was stronger than ever, her Mana was practically begging for her to use it... and that was the rub. As powerful as she felt, she knew it was just her power propping her up. As soon as she let go of her newfound source of strength, the cravings would return in force. If it was something she could hold indefinitely, there'd be no issue. Sadly, Winifred was more than aware that her Pact wasn't meant for prolonged use. Already she could feel her muscles beginning to spasm, unable to contain the roiling energy coursing through her.

“I cannae tell ye much more than what I have,” She said with a shrug. She could, of course. She could speak of all the horrors that she’d witnessed over the past three months but that would simply mean she’d be forced to sit through endless questions. There was no time for that shite. Not when she needed to get her fix. The brawler turned her back to Skrakch before she let her Mana settle, forcing down the gasp that threatened to spill out of her as her body screamed once more.

“Look, I dinnae think this is something ye can fake. If ye have it, ye have it and that’s the end of it,” She continued as she absentmindedly scrubbed at her nose. “Now I’m dyin’ for a meat pie and a good tankard of ale. How about we forget this tea and go tae the pub?”