"Miss Tristessa, what's wrong?"

The gray-eyed girl blinked, bringing herself back to the present. Looking at the Wraith, who asked her that question after noticing her silent, troubled expression.

Realizing that the actual Stormcrow was not that fiend driven to madness because of her Divinity and the unavoidable, future loss of that source of pleasure. She was not that kind of addict that was about to be stripped of her sky-touching mountain made of ethereal drugs.

For now, the Wraith of the past didn't exist. But the possibility always existed for a new unholy conception…

"Nothing, Vektra."

"…are you sure?"

"Yeah, don't worry. I'm just really tired because of the lack of sleep. And there's no need for formalities, call me Triss or Tessa, if you like." Laughing, she tried to steer the conversation in another direction. And exorcize the demons from the past that invited her to despair. "Listen, there's something I wanted to ask you. How did you manage to keep Sylas from the meeting? If he had been there…"

"Lady Eramisaptor dislikes the presence of Wraiths; she prefers we stay in the shadows, far from her. But… I couldn't allow Master Sylas to be wandering the castle halls that night. I had to trick him."

"What did you do?"

"A false lead about a boy who appeared in Feydra Forest wearing strange clothes, behaving oddly, and getting help by one of the family of peasants. I left it at the Adventurers' Guild… The Master was one of them before he accepted the cursed mask, and he frequents that place. The chances of him finding that lead were very high."

As she explained her tactic, the assassin lowered her hood and ran the sharp nails of her free hand through her black hair. She was indulging in the luxury of being more liberated, more comfortable. No longer bound by protocols or disciplines that would never have allowed her to do what she was doing.

"Master Sylas isn't naive. He'll realize the clue was false, and he'll eventually know someone wanted him out of the castle today," Vektra warned. "When the time comes, the responsibility will fall on me, and I'll have to face the consequences. But it was necessary. Under no circumstances could I allow even the slightest chance of him being there and meeting you."

"W-why?" the girl asked. Not ignoring the fact that her experience with Aurelia Eramisaptor's Hidden Shadow, in the nonexistent past, had given her a close approximation of the correct answer.

"Throughout his career, he killed more than ten Strangers. Real or not, we'll never know; it's top secret."

That word, [Stranger]. Once again coming from inside the hidden mouth of that assassin, pushing Tristessa's soul toward the edge of that abyss called indecision. Making her sigh in fear; that lament mingled with the crackling of the flames in the fireplace, Astoria's strong snores, and Severus's babbling, the product of his nightmare.

"She knows. She knows who I am… Of course she knows. She's a Wraith; the purpose of her existence is to hunt people like me and eliminate them," she thought, her heart pumping pure fear to every corner of her body. "Vektra…"

"No. Don't say anything, Tristessa. Don't say a word," the assassin begged, while Tristessa remained as still as a corpse. Feeling the shadow of a certain doom enveloping her, the hardness of small plates of light armor blocking critical parts of her torso. And the uneven surface below, where Vektra held her poison-laden knives. "For now, let's stay like this, as we are. Without knowing who we are beneath our masks. I'm not ready to hear that truth…"

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Her fingers trembled against Tristessa's back, her nails digging in, hurting her through her trench coat.

"You understand that I'm going to lose everything for your Discord, don't you?" she asked, pulling back slightly from Tristessa to force her to look into her eyes. Seeing those black clouds about to break into a downpour, while the girl saw only darkness.

Not knowing if behind that blackness that devoured light without being satiated lay the gaze of a woman afraid of losing her source of addiction. Without love. Only lust.

"Is it worth it?" Tristessa asked in return. A soft and delicate whisper that it was paradoxical not a trace of fear lingered in her vocal cords, given the tears welling in her eyes.

A single tear escaped from her lower eyelid. Like a delicious, forbidden fruit, which Stormcrow intercepted with her index finger. The sharp tip of her black nail delicately grazing the girl's damp, oily skin.

"Yes… Insane, it's it? I can't put into words what you make me feel." Her fingers, gripped by spasms, nervousness, and desperation. Overwhelmed by the dark essence that saturated each of her senses. The moisture of that solitary tear soaked into her fingertips, causing the Wraith to sigh. Breathless. "It's such pleasure, such joy, that I would take off my mask right now and kiss your lips. Even if it kills me."

"…"

Before she could say or even think anything, Vektra pulled away completely. Forced to give her a harmless shove that made Tristessa lean back against the soft back of the armchair.

"Take it. Come on, quick."

The assassin had pulled an envelope from inside her stealth robes, slightly wrinkled from the heated exchange with the girl.

She, who accepted it in silence: the envelope was sealed, the symbol of the Ill-Omen outlined in red.

"What is this?" Tristessa asked, confused.

"Instructions for tomorrow's operation. Lord Youngblood already organized the logistics and military power to intercept the Coven and destroy them," she explained. "I don't know the details, but my lord thought about dividing your team and assist the task forces in the different fronts. Open the envelope and read the contents once all your comrades are awake."

"W-wait, Vektra! You're not staying?" she asked, watching her rise from her seat and pull up her hood. She almost regretted asking that.

"I want to, but I can't. It's risky, knowing what you know… The curse of the mask could force me to make a mistake. I can't allow that."

"You mean that… If you discover an…uncomfortable truth, you…" Tristessa swallowed and gather courage to ask the following. "Are you going to kill me?"

"…"

Without looking back, without even risking a glance that would make her desire contort her mind with mental acrobatics and trying to convince her to stay with that forbidden source of immeasurable pleasure, Vektra answered:

"No. Never. Before that, I'll kill myself. For you soul is too valuable next to this discarded, accursed spirit…"

And Tristessa felt something that shouldn't have a place within her. A pain born out of pity. Naive, misplaced, since it was directed at the woman who in the previous loop almost sexually abused her.

"See you soon."

As if in grave danger, Stormcrow went straight to the door, barely dodging the empty bottles and almost stepping over Astoria's hand. She flung the door open and went into the hallway, the hinges creaked with sharp agony, the frame slamming shut behind her as she closed it.

The light from the crystals at the walls illuminated every corner, the long burgundy carpet muffling footsteps, though stealth had vanished. But it didn't matter, for the assassin came face to face with Auron.

Leaning against the wall, arms crossed and head bowed, his hat obscuring his gaze and his handkerchief covering his mouth. Still, only his chest rising and falling with each breath.

"…"

Neither he nor she knew they had killed each other in a past that no longer existed. The poison no longer consumed Auron from within, and Vektra was no longer trapped in a gravitational well manifested through thaumaturgy, nor did she have dozens of stab wounds in her back inflicted by her lover.

Enemies then, due to the threads of fate, now allies. Their lives, trapped in a cruel game that consisted in the manipulation of the rivers of time. Their souls, contained within their carcasses of flesh and bone, or released and vanishing into the void.

Revolving around that black haired young woman blessed with a Divinity that made them slaves to a nightmare that never ceased to churn with turbulence. Never stopping.

"…"

Without saying a word, Vektra began walking straight toward the exit of the corridor and heard the gunslinger's voice behind her, giving her a farewell message:

"Thank you for all your help, lady."

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