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  The morning was quiet—the lull before a storm. Heavy clouds hung low, glowing with a pale, internal light. The air was charged with tension, like the static that crawls over the skin before a lightning strike.

  When Violetta woke, Irellis was already at the door, tightening the straps of her dark leather armor. She smelled of damp fabric, sweat, and blade oil. Over her shoulder was an old, well-kept black cloak, frayed at the edges and marked by a tiny scar from a claw or a sword. She gave Violetta a curt nod—a silent pact before something that could no longer be stopped.

  Violetta rose quickly, smoothing her tangled hair and pulling on her outer layers—reinforced fabric infused with the scent of smoke, metal, and old memories. This time, there were no compromises. No ceremonies. No doubts. She took her rucksack; inside, the Sphere pulsed with a faint violet hue. At the bottom lay the revolver and the suit she had recovered. The katana jutted from her side as always. Several scrolls, smelling of old paper and sandalwood, sat alongside a med-kit and rations. Her hands trembled slightly—not from fear, but from anticipation. Like standing on the edge of a void.

  The group gathered at the old town hall, a peeling stone structure where moss bled through the window frames. This was the Guild’s local branch. Brenn—their leader and perhaps the only person whose smile didn't grate on Violetta—was checking the gear. His armor was scuffed, the scar on his cheek still fresh, but his eyes burned. He lived for this.

  “Everyone ready?”

  “Ready,” the voices echoed. Brief. No wasted breath. Violetta nodded, catching Irellis’s eye.

  Inside, they were met by the administrator—the miserly woman with a predatory glint in her eyes, a look that could sniff out profit in both gold and blood. She called them her "favorites," as they brought the most coin to the Guild. On the desk sat a plaque:

  CONTRACT: ELIMINATE ORC ENCAMPMENT. THREAT LEVEL: HIGH. REWARD: HIGH.

  Beside the seal was a bloody thumbprint. From the previous squad? They signed the papers and left in silence. Outside, the air grew heavy, as if the world was waiting for a scream or an explosion.

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  The camp was silent, but it wasn't peace—it was a trap. The sun hung low, shadows stretching like black fingers across the dirt.

  A few Orcs moved between tents: massive, hunched figures scarred and clad in bone-reinforced leather. Their voices were low grunts, sounding like curses. Behind them lay a stone ridge leading into a cave—deep, dark, and reeking like a forgotten crypt.

  They hid behind the boulders. The stone was coarse and cold. Dew shimmered in the crevices, and nearby, water dripped—each drop hitting like a hammer to the temple. Irellis signaled: flank left. Her movements were ritualistic and certain. Brenn nodded.

  Violetta stayed back, not out of cowardice, but because she saw the entire battlefield. Her eyes were the eye of the storm; her mind, the fire at its center.

  “Now!” Brenn commanded.

  Arrow—knife—fireball. It began.

  At first, Violetta conducted the chaos like an maestro of war. Her commands were blade-strikes—short and precise. Her spells were perfect circles, shimmering arcanes of light and flame. The group worked as a single organism, beautiful in its brutality.

  They had nearly cleared the camp. But the silence after a battle is treacherous. Too quiet. Too fast a victory. Suddenly, a roar erupted from the depths. The cave seemed to exhale, vomiting forth a new wave of malice.

  Orcs—larger, taller, coated in something dark like living tar. And then... the Goblins. Small, gaunt, with rat-like eyes. Their bodies hissed and shrieked as they darted between the Orcs' legs. The air turned foul with the stench of rot and burnt meat.

  The shock hit her like a high-voltage current.

  Goblins. Todir’s body bristling with spears. The burning cottage. Her mother’s scream. Zlata’s cry. The damp cave. The rattle of chains. The rhythmic thud of feet. The distorted laughter. Marunya’s extinguished gaze. Demko’s mangled remains.

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  Her body began to shake. Her eyes flooded with blood. Her heart beat to the rhythm of a war drum that thundered only in her skull. She screamed so loudly the entire battlefield faltered.

  [CRITICAL PSYCHO-EMOTIONAL STATE DETECTED. ACTIVATING PROTECTIVE PROTOCOL... ERROR. RETRYING... ERROR. INTERVENTION ATTEMPT...] The Sphere tried to act, but Violetta was deaf to it.

  “VIOLETTA, STOP!” a cry rang out within her consciousness. Even the Sphere couldn't hold her back.

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  Violetta didn't run. She flew—a projectile launched from an abyss of rage. Her feet barely touched the earth.

  An Orc raised an axe. She leapt, kicked off the blade, and with an outstretched hand, punched through his skull with a burst of magic. The massive body collapsed onto the Goblins below, crushing them into a crimson paste.

  Tillo—the nimble mage who always stayed close—tried to grab her arm. She didn't even look back. She was no longer human. She was a slaughter-engine.

  The group scrambled after her. Brenn was shouting, Irellis was spitting curses, but Violetta heard nothing. Her eyes were twin furnaces. The cave ahead was a portal to her past, sucking her soul back into the dark.

  She tore, she crushed, she unleashed magic until blood and incantations wove into a single symphony of horror. The echoes of screams, explosions, and the snapping of bone washed over her like a tide.

  As the last enemies twitched in their death throes, she turned toward the cave entrance, ready to vanish into its black maw. Suddenly, someone seized her arm.

  “Violetta!”

  It was Irellis. She tried to pull her back, and they both tumbled to the ground. The Elf groaned, clutching her shoulder. Her hand shook. In her eyes, there was no anger, no fear—only disappointment... and care.

  “Vi, stop. I’m begging you.”

  Flashes of memory struck like lightning. The embrace in the night. The quiet presence. The light laughter.

  Something clicked inside her. The past couldn't be reclaimed. Her family was dead. But beside her were the living. And she had been ready to sacrifice them to her ghost.

  “I... I’m sorry...” Violetta couldn't remember the last time she had asked for forgiveness. Her voice was raspy, alien.

  Irellis managed a pained smile. “I’m not angry. Just... next time, let me hold you back.”

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  Night. The air was cool, the sky veiled in clouds as if even the heavens didn't want to look at what had happened.

  Violetta sat apart from the others, closer to the darkness than the light. She stared into the fire, but she didn't see it. Her gaze was hollow.

  Brenn, after a long hesitation, sat across from her. “We shouldn't have taken this contract,” he said finally. “I saw how you reacted to the Orcs. Dammit, I knew something was wrong when you...”

  “Forgive me,” Violetta interrupted, her voice quiet but firm. It was broken—no anger, no pride, only guilt.

  “It’s my fault,” she continued. “I knew I might break... and I went anyway. It was foolish.” She pulled her knees to her chest. “They killed my family. My mother. My father. My little brother. My little sister. Their screams... and what I saw in that cave, it haunts me even now.”

  Tears tracked through the soot on her cheeks. “Even killing them all, I couldn't protect a single person I loved. My soul... it went out the day they died.”

  Irellis stood and walked over. “I saw you dying out there. There was nothing of you left in your eyes.” She sat and pulled Violetta into an embrace. “You’re here now. With us. And we are with you.”

  Violetta finally broke, sobbing into the Elf’s shoulder.

  Brenn leaned in, shrugging as if trying to cast off his own ghosts. “I... I know how it is. My sister was taken, too. Imperial soldiers. Said she had ‘potential.’ Never saw her again. I was just a boy. I tried to do something—they just kicked me into the mud. And she... she was screaming, reaching for me.” He swallowed hard. “That scream, that look—it’s always with me. That’s why I didn't turn away from you. I know what it’s like to be left with nothing but the pain.”

  Tillo, silent until now, looked at the fire. “My village was on the edge, too. Goblins. We thought it was the end. But then adventurers came. Real heroes, shining swords, battle-songs. To me, they were gods. They left ruins behind, but they gave us hope.” He looked at Vi. “I promised myself then—I’d become that for someone else. And you, Vi—you still can. Because we’re still here.”

  Irellis held her tighter. “I was a slave. I heard my name spoken as an order. I escaped not because I was strong, but because I couldn't breathe another second in those chains. My greatest fear is losing those I’ve finally called ‘mine.’ I won’t let that happen. Not even if I have to fight the gods.”

  Finally, Odd approached. His face was a mask, his eyes cold as ice, but the hostility was gone. He rested a hand on her head—not gently, but with a heavy, grounding weight.

  “I won't tell my story. But I’ve seen cities fall. You aren't the first to scream. Just not everyone stands back up after.” He paused. “We’re a team, Violetta. If you let the past eat you, we all die. I should be scolding you, but I won't. You’re with us. But remember—I’m always watching.”

  Someone handed her a piece of bread. Someone stoked the fire. Words were no longer needed. Inside her pack, the Sphere continued its silent work:

  [FAILURE ANALYSIS: SUBJECT’S EMOTIONAL RESPONSE EXCEEDED PREDICTIONS. INTERVENTION UNSUCCESSFUL. ADJUSTING PARAMETERS. CONTINUING ANALYSIS...]

  The world wasn't the same as it had been. But for the first time since losing everything, she felt a flicker of hope. Weeks passed. Snow began to cover the scorched earth, and time slowly began to bury the traces of the fire, healing the wounds in her heart.

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