The taste of blood-stained her tongue as Godfrey lay lifeless before her. Cooper stood, stronger now, until hunger subsided. She knew she had to get away, for once, not to flee from her crimes, instead to flee from the institute that raised her.

A rough sob made its way past her lips, then another. Her face quickly became wet with the uncontrollable torrent, her breathing getting harder as she hiccuped. It was never meant to go this way, she thought. She was meant to have a quiet life in Syi Dorei with Iarden. As quiet as it could get for a Templar of Death itself, at least. Another chest wracking sob left her body, coming faster this time, faster than she could wipe the tears away. It was an undeniable fact that she wasn’t human, not that she ever was, not truly, but now an uncontrollable creature that would surely hurt the people she cared for. What would Iarden think? Her wards, Rhydderch, Deryn, and Mayburn? Raelyn couldn’t have exalted her, after everything. Maybe she shouldn’t go home. She pushed down the thought as quickly as it appeared in her mind.

She wiped her eyes, running her hands down her soaked face to dry it to no avail. Letting out one last shaky sigh as she steeled herself to be the soldier she was raised to be. Crying wouldn’t help her now. Now, she needed to escape the basement which meant fixing herself up the best she could and finding her chosen family.

She had modified wooden leg hastily with the metal from her armour and belted into place with the leather she could salvage. It wasn’t the best fix in the world, but it held steady and supported her weight as she bounded up the stairs with a new lease of life. Rutherford’s life. Her wounds hadn’t healed completely but had sewn themselves enough to hold together, amplified by the substance that she had drained from her friend.

She tugged at the door, only for it to stay jammed with its lock. She huffed, stepping back. Of course, it had been locked; they were prisoners, not guests, yet she growled in frustration regardless. She jammed her shoulder against it, throwing her weight behind the motion. The door creaked but ultimately did not budge. She continued, ramming her weight into the wooden door until enough snapped off for her to pull at the metal lock that kept her in, sliding it across to her freedom.

The manor was dimmer now, its grand colour lost its saturation. She could now see the holes in the wood where the woodworm had set, the cracks in the wall that almost separated the upstairs from its bottom entirely. She swallowed, trying to control her panting. Whatever beauty she had seen in the building before had left, now only leaving the chasm in which Nyxus held her against her will. She had to leave, find her friend and co-workers, and her own way back to Mabristan.

First things first, she needed to change her clothes.

She crept upstairs, hoping to find a bedroom, at least to find something to cover her bloody clothes if not replace them entirely. Not a sound carried through the manor, at least none other than herself. Hair prickled at the back of her neck. Something was wrong, but if that meant she could scavenge in peace, she’d take the risk.

She slipped seamlessly into an upstairs bedroom, grand but made smaller with the thickness of dust that inhabited every surface. Cooper sighed, thinking about the damage any clothes she’d find would be in. Still, better than the ripped, bloodstained tunic she currently wore.

Opening the wardrobe doors with a creak, she was pleasantly surprised. The clothes only slightly damaged, at least still wearable. She pulled out a white cotton shirt and hummed. It smelled of smoke and old cedar, much like the mothballs they kept at the Academy. She poked around the rest of the wardrobe. She had wandered into a man’s room, but that didn’t bother her in the slightest, it only meant adding a belt and gaining pocket space for her travels.

In the end, she settled with black dress pants, a ruffled white shirt that’s front she kept unbuttoned down to the middle of her chest, leather shoes that were a size or two larger than necessary, and a velvet jacket that’s edges had been nibbled at over the past few decades, perhaps longer. She studied herself in the mirror, scrutinising every detail, fingering at the ring that Iarden gave her.

She had never been human enough to fit in with the others. Her ears too pricked and tall, the bridge of her nose too shaped in a cat-like way that made her stand out. Yet, she was never elven enough for the elves. Her skin too soft and malleable, irises too small and pupils too round. What she had become had pushed her further away from either species whose genetics were similar enough and yet carried seas of difference.

She sighed and scrubbed at the dried blood around her lips, the white scars that writhed over her tawny skin. It couldn’t be helped now. Now, she had planning to do. Filing away any concern for her own health, focusing on the task at hand the way the Temple had taught her. She might not have wanted to return to them any longer, but some of their lessons could still be deemed valuable in amongst the trauma they caused. She should really seek therapy after all this is over, she noted to herself.

The stairs creaked as she crept, staying close to the wall to dampen the noise. She exhaled slowly, carefully descending to the bottom. She hadn’t run into Nyxus yet, or anyone else. Something was wrong, and it wasn’t the fact that she was still essentially a captive.

She finally reached the bottom, looking around. Nothing was out of place. She brushed her hand against the fabric wall in an act of grounding. Somewhere down the hall, she could hear scraping metal, as if sheathing or unsheathing a blade. She could feel her ears twitch towards the sound.

Now, of course, she had two options. She could leave while she could regain her freedom and continue on her path of gaining money and setting sail back to Mabristan, or she could investigate with the large probability of getting captured and sent back to the basement with the corpse.

Cooper followed the sound to a nearby room, two doors down from where she had stood. Keeping her back flattened against the wall, creeping her way down. She had no training in stealth that had been left for the Priests. She could only hope that she was quiet enough.

She poked her head around the corner to find Nyxus lying face down on the ground. Beside him a woman smoked a cigarette while reclined on one of the many settees in the room. Cooper pulled back quickly.

“Don’t be shy, come on in.”

Cooper cursed under her breath. Of course, they had caught her. With her shoulders tense, she hesitantly followed her instruction.

Val stood before her, sword strapped to her dark jeans, a thick mane of white hair streaked with black brushed back haphazardly against her skull, and a gun pointed at Cooper’s face.

“Who are you really?” asked Val, red-gold eyes that reminded Cooper of Iarden’s favoured club drink -honey-spiced whiskey- squinted curiously as if appraising her.

“No one,” said Cooper, raising her hands to show her lack of weapons despite her pride - “No one important. And yourself?”

Val looked her over with a smirk. “Assassin.”

The two women stared each other down before the light-haired woman cracked a grin and lowered her gun. Cooper stepped back.

“You killed him. Why?” she demanded, keeping her voice level as she nodded towards the corpse of the man who had caused her great pain in the past few hours. The one who orchestrated her upbringing.

“Does it matter?”

“Of course. I need to know if I’m in any danger.”

The other woman tilted her head to one side, considering. “No, you’re in no danger. You’re a servant, yes? One of his?”

“Sure,” came Cooper’s reply through gritted teeth.

“Name’s Caron, though don’t tell the others,”- Val reached a hand, to which Cooper hesitantly shook - “I’m as much an assassin as you are a servant, you have nothing to fear from me.”

“Aleksilkandrin,” came Cooper’s reply, as easy as the waves reach the shore and as certain as the dawn washes away the night. She was Aleksilkandrin, after all. She had no reason to hide behind her father’s surname any longer.

“An old name,” noted Val, still appraising Alek in a way that made her feel more like a meal than a person, “haven’t heard that name since…”

Val trailed off, and Alek didn’t wait for her to finish. “You never answered. Why kill him? He was a priest.”

“What else should you do with trespassers? Deserved worse, if you ask me. Gods above, I’m never getting the smell of blood out of the carpet. I’ll have to redecorate.”

“You need to clean the place first, the upstairs is full of dust.”

“Ah, yes, that’s where you got the clothes. Keep them, I’ve done without them for the past few decades.”

“Decades?” questioned Alek. She had never pegged Val to be that old, perhaps in her early thirties at a stretch. She waited for an answer that did not come, the two women staring at each other in bewilderment before Alek spoke again, “were you really going to shoot me?”

Val shrugged and opened the chamber of the gun, shaking it out into her palm to reveal that there was nothing loaded. Alek stared at her in disbelief. Val grinned impishly at her, as if life had only been a game to her, and she was winning. Alek stepped back again, wanting to keep some distance between her and the priest killer. Although she felt some relief that he was dead, she felt no thanks towards Val despite her unlocking her freedom. It could have been different, better. Could have been more satisfying to defy the man herself. Instead, he was dead, lying in a pool of his own blood. Much like Godfrey in the room below.

“Now, my turn for questions, I think,” said Val with an unattractive smirk plastered on her face. She looked so smug, Alek would have loved to knock the look off of her face but she didn’t want to risk it while Val was armed, “what brings you to my manor, Syi Dorian?”

“Sightseeing,” That was a normal person thing to do, Alek assumed. She had never truly done it herself, but she knew plenty who did. Casper, namely. He loved gallivanting through historic ruins and climbing mountains for the views, but that was beside the point.

“Sightseeing?” asked Val, eyebrows furrowed and eyes trying to see through her.

“Well, yes. What else am I supposed to do? I was in the area, thought I’d stop by.”

Alek knew she was a horrible liar, always had been. She just hoped that she was good enough for this one fib.

“You’re a horrible liar, Aleksilkandrin,” huffed Val, “and an even worse hostage, from what I gathered from this one.” She kicked at Nyxus’ body unceremoniously. “Now, I do hope you’ve enjoyed my humble abode.”

“You know fully that this place is for the spiders now, yes?”

Val hummed in response, before turning and hopping over Nyxus’s body that had not yet been moved. She fussed about in a cabinet and pulled out an ornately engraved silver flask, popping off its top and taking a long swig before holding it out for Alek.

“I don’t drink,” Cooper shrugged, yet monitoring the armed woman all the while. She couldn’t trust this stranger, not in the slightest. Even Finn had been easier to deal with and she was certain they had only got along in prison since she was the only one there he presumably knew.

Prison. Finn was still a captive, much like she had been twice this month now. Yet, she had been the one free. She had to help him, somehow. She seemed to have a new strength now, she could attempt to break him out. That thought stuck in the forefront of her brain. If on the slightest chance, Sir Barnaby would have her back, she would take it in a heartbeat.

With her mind made up, she turned to leave only to be stopped by a hand on her shoulder pulling her back. With a huff, she turned to glare into Val’s deathly pale face. Omera, this woman looks like a corpse. Val looked confused, pulling away and gesturing around with her bottle.

Alek wet her lips.“How do you get out of here?”

“In a hurry?”

“Finn’s still in prison.”

“Ah.” Val nodded. “Yes, I see that is quite an issue, but he isn’t going anywhere yet. Stay with me?”

Against her better judgement, she agreed. The truth was, Alek was curious, not that she’d ever voice that. Val had rescued her without even trying, Alek felt she owed her regardless of the other woman’s intentions. It didn’t hurt that bringing her along meant company and and a guide. She was a perfectly safe danger to have around.

Val busied herself with the body, rolling it in the carpet ready to drag it out before they left. She had pointed Alek down the hall with a small grunt of “help yourself.”

The room was decorated in a range of queasy greens and yellows and filled wall to wall with swords and battleaxes, maces and spears. No space lay unarmed, cases upon cases filled to the brim with orange metals. It almost made her forget about the wallpaper.

Her gaze fell on a short sword left in a glass case, a jade blade and an expertly crafted silver handle that branched out in a standard way, with a lion’s head for a hilt. In the hilt lay two small emeralds, the lion’s piercing glare, still perfectly preserved despite the wear and tear of the other weapons that filled the room to the brim. Alek hesitantly reached out with shaking hands to open the case.

The wood creaked with effort, its hinges squealing with disuse. The blade fit perfectly in Alek’s hands, its blade humming a faint green glow at her touch.

Magic. It’s not something that Alek had much experience with. Of course, she knew mages and other magic users, and was even raised around many in the Temple, but they lost their histories to time. She had never even held a magic item before, that honour was left only for those with magical traits. It felt as if she had crossed a line that should have never been crossed, but she wasn’t a Templar anymore. She could make her own rules and live under her own conditions, and this was the first step of many to defy the temple.

“I see you’ve found something,” noted Val from behind her, although she didn’t turn to look at her new companion. “interesting choice.”

Alek hummed in response, gaze transfixed on the blade. It was definitely far nicer than the blades they issued her from either the temple or the academy. Looking further, the branches looked closer to grapevines than branches, its grapes forming a hardened grip.

“Aleksilkandrin,” sighed Val, “we have to leave before the place burns down, you got what you want?”

Alek whirled around, looking at Val incredulously, “what? What the hell did you do?”

“The best way to get rid of the evidence, I’m not overly attached to the place-” she shrugged, “-now, you coming?”

“Why are you like this?” asked Alek, although it came out more of a whisper. Val shot her a mischievous grin, septum piercing glinting in the bright light, and left the room.

With the smell of smoke slowly filling her lungs, she felt no choice but to follow, taking the sword with her.

The flames had risen to lick at the sky, taunting the Gods till they opened the oceans of the Sanctum above them. The rain poured down in thick, freezing pellets, soaking their clothes instantaneously. The two stood back as they watched the flames grow and spread, painting their faces with orange light. Val ripped off her brown leather jacket, tossing it to the ground as she raised her arms triumphantly above her head, letting out a loud whoop. She turned excitedly to Alek, a wide grin revealing two upper sets of canines that matched Alek’s own, a rare deformity that she had only seen in her twin before their separation.

“What are you? A stuck up?” yelled Val above the growing thunder, “let loose!”

Alek watched as Val ripped off the red bandana from her neck, it finding itself with her jacket, leaving her in a white t-shirt, jeans and knee-length boots.

Lightning cracked in the near distance, lighting up the ink-black sky in flashes of white.

“You sure know how to make a re-introduction,” Alek rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help but crack a smile at Val’s antics.

Val whooped again, grinning and laughing as she made movements that might pass as dancing. The flames dying behind her, the smoke thick and low. The storm showed no sign of letting up, water cascading down Alek’s face rapidly to where she could barely keep her eyes open. She pulled her jacket off and held it above her hair like an umbrella. Not that it would keep her dry, only hoping she could keep her sight on Val and the dying embers behind her.

The smoke seemed to follow them the way back to Ridgewood. It had taken until nightfall to return to the city on foot, their shoes full of wet dirt and stone. Their clothes were like a second skin, water forcing them to cling to their quaking bodies.

Alek gripped the sword in her hands - it was one thing Val was adamant about avoiding answering questions about. The sword felt special, somehow, as if it were a living being. Magic coursed through its metal veins, and its blade was still lit with its soft green glow. A fresh green, a promise of growth, unlike the sickening tones of the room that was only a blackened husk of its former self.

The sight of the Sheriff’s building was an unwelcome necessity. Now that they had arrived, Alek could feel her stomach churn, her nerves set alight with worry. Shadows paced behind the windows, obscured with heavy curtains drawn shut.

“Oh, their teeming,” Val’s voice finally broke their silence. Alek rolled her eyes at the tone, choosing not to humour her. Val elbowed her, a little too rough to be playful, but the grin on her face seemed to suggest that it was. “Could have told me you pissed off the law men, would have dressed for the occasion.”

Alek hadn’t had a good look at the place the last time she was here. It was in the same style as the other buildings, in a dark purple with an outline that looked like it may have once been gold but had faded to a dull beige-yellow of its undercoat. A stout building, only slightly taller than the Frostbeard’s residence. Steeling herself, she reached for the door handle -

“Alek?”

Alek snapped her hand back and whirled around. There behind her stood a bewildered Raelyn Godrick, heavy bags under her eyes and rumpled, torn clothes.

“How did you get out?” she asked, her dark brown eyes darting warily between Alek and Val. “Val? What are you - Cooper, I swear -”

“Don’t worry about it!” Alek’s voice gave out a few octaves higher than it was originally, “We’re here for Finn.”

Raelyn glanced at Val suspiciously, not that Alek could blame her, but ultimately ignored the woman. Val took this as a chance to ask the important question that Alek felt she should have planned before arriving in the city, let alone until she was at the station.

“So, how we breaking him out?”

Raelyn and Alek exchanged a look.

“Well-”

“I-”

The two women spoke over each other, Alek gesturing with her hands in a similar way to Raelyn as an attempt to show she knows what she’s saying.

“Look, I knew what I was doing before you two showed up,” explained Raelyn, “you’ve gone and thrown a spanner into the works.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, actually.”

“Hey, maybe we talk this through-” Alek cut across, shifting to be closer to Raelyn, “-we’re all here for the same reason, yeah? We can figure out a plan.”

“I mean, I’m just following you,” shrugged Val.

Raelyn crossed her arms, keeping her metal prosthetic on display and cocking an eyebrow as she regarded Val.

After much persuading from the ex-Templar, the three found themselves in a café further down the road. Raelyn sat next to Alek, just so she could keep an eye on the newcomer, not that Val seemed to notice or mind.

“You can’t be serious,” said Val with a bewildered look, “you can’t seriously have been thinking of marching in there and waving your name around.”

“The Godrick name carries a lot of weight-”

“So what? You don’t see me throw around my damn name!”

“Which is, what exactly?”

“Don’t see why it concerns you.”

Raelyn glared, leaning back in her chair and giving Alek a look of ‘why did you bring her?’, to which Alek replied by pressing her lips into a thin line, attempting to seem polite.

Sir Barnaby had been missing from their group, Alek had noted. He had been there when she and Finn had got arrested but hadn’t seemed to have followed Raelyn in getting him back. Maybe they had just been the hired help after all, despite the crew getting along decently well with him. She wasn’t close to the man by any means, but his absence felt strange. Raelyn had explained briefly that the old faun had wanted to carry on with his research, that he had made a breakthrough that he really should have had before dragging his mercenaries across Adanak, only to decide that the relic he sought wasn’t even in Adanak - instead in North Mythra where his journey began.

“We can’t just walk in the front door,” offered Alek, hoping to change the topic back to getting Finn out of jail.

“Is there another door then?” questioned Raelyn, pointedly not looking at Val, “Coop, you were there, did you see another way in?”

“Uh, not exactly, but -”

“Well! Front door it is.”

“I mean, not necessarily-” Val cut in, leaning forward with her elbows on the table, “could always…make a new entrance.”

“Absolutely not, perish.”

“You didn’t even know what I was going to suggest!”

“Something illegal, I’m sure,” huffed Raelyn.

“Ah yes, because a prison break isn’t illegal.”

Alek groaned and let her head drop against the table with a soft thunk. The other two continued bickering with her mental absence, only Raelyn pulling back to check on her every once in a while with a hand pressed softly on her shoulder and flashing concerned looks at her unmoving form.

“Fine, we do things Raelyn’s way - she throws her name at the guards, me and Aleksilkandrin break your boy out” blurted out Val, fingers drumming quickly against the table. Alek sat back and watched her reactions.

“It’s not a bad idea,” Raelyn shrugged, “it’s not like we have anything better.”

“Well, now that you’re finally sorted,” started Alek, “when do we do this?”