Okay, first things first: I don't own anything related to Final Fantasy. It all belongs to Square Enix. What I do own, though, are my original characters and the plot.

All characters are fictitious.

Due to way too many new ideas I had to change a lot here, compared to older versions of this story. First off, I ultimately decided to ignore Dirge of Cerberus, mainly because I needed Chaos to be still with Vincent. The most changes, though, have been made to Naomi, the OC here. I tried to stick as closely to the canon background as possible, though I altered a few details, so I will have to mark it as an obvious AU (albeit it already being AU anyway due to it being fanfiction in the first place). I am really sorry I'm taking so long with this, but even if I don't make any money with it, I do take it seriously enough to want it to be the best version possible. Also, I'm working on a few side stories and prequels which take more time than I thought they would. I hope you can forgive me.

I really, truly hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I did writing it.

Last (and hopefully final) edit: April 2019

Preface

»Damn it! It's not working!«

»You think I don't know that? But, for the sake of Odin, why?«

»How should I know?«

It was all Lucrecia could do to suppress an aggravated sigh. She had stayed with her only remaining family, her brother and his lovely wife, ever since Hojo and his minions had taken her son away from her. Both of them had done whatever they could for her, and it was mainly thanks to their help that she already felt better. Not much, but at least a bit. But for the past few days she'd had to listen to this bickering. She loved them both to death, but if this didn't stop any time soon, she would lose it. She had finally reached her limit. With a low groan she got up from her seat. »Out of the way!«

Marc looked at her, one of his eyebrows raised, while Sarah threw her hands into the air, making a sound of pure exasperation. »You can barely walk, sweetheart. You need to rest.«

»Rest?« Lucrecia asked incredulously. »How can I rest when I have to listen to you arguing all the time?« With a sigh she turned to take a look at the files her beloved relatives had put together. She couldn't see anything wrong with Marc and Sarah's work. So, what could be the problem? Feeling exhausted, she ran a slightly shaking hand over her face.

»What's wrong?«

»Nothing, I just …«

»Come on,« Sarah said gently as she laid an arm around her shoulders. »You have been through a lot. We will manage just fine, there's no need for you to overexert yourself.«

Lucrecia shook her head. »I'm fine.«

»So, do you have any idea where we're going wrong?«

»Marc!«

»What? I was just –«

Lucrecia raised a hand to shut them up. Her mind was working furiously, and they were no help whatsoever. She needed to focus. With a deep sigh she closed her eyes for a moment. A mistake, as she knew perfectly well. Because every time she did so, she saw his face. And that was something she just couldn't bear.

»Is something the matter?«

Slowly shaking her head she opened her eyes again and looked at her brother. »I'm trying to think.«

»Is there anything you need?« Sarah watched her intently.

»I am not … sure,« she said slowly. There had to be a way to help them, especially after everything they had done for her. And hopefully … She nodded firmly to herself. »Let me try to figure this out.«

Her mind was set. She would make this work. She had to. Not for her sake. She needed to do this for Marc, for Sarah … and perhaps, it could be for him as well.

She just hoped that it wasn't her biggest mistake yet.

Dawn

It never grew completely dark in the cave that was located to the southeast of Nibelheim. There was always a faint glow that never died, coming from the Mako fountain and the crystal in the far back, reflected by the walls which were covered in Mako residue. Barely anyone knew of its existence, as far as he could tell, but he considered this to be a good thing. So this one at least had been safe from exploitation in the past. It was far from easy to reach this cave, let alone find it, after all.

Vincent sat just a few steps away from the crystal that had grown in the centre of an almost circular room at the end of the cave, deep in contemplation. He looked straight at the person contained within this crystal, but this was about all he could do here. He had no idea if it was really her, or rather an afterimage of Lucrecia, though in his opinion it did not matter.

It was by far not the first time he was here ever since he had discovered this cavern roughly two years prior. Back then he had been travelling with Cloud and his friends as they had attempted to save the planet from annihilation. Even if this had not even been their initial goal, and certainly not his. All he had wanted at that time had been to take revenge on Hojo. Following this ragtag band of fighters had been as good a chance as any.

But how could he have stood idly by while this world – the one with Lucrecia in it – was about to be destroyed? So he had stayed with them, even after taking down Hojo which had not been as satisfying as he had hoped. Along the way, he had learned to care about his comrades, some more than others. He would never say this out loud, had barely been able to admit this fact to himself. Still, his wish to keep them safe as well had grown steadily with each confrontation, each mile they had put behind them. There had been no way for him to abandon them.

He wasn't entirely certain how much time he had spent here in this cave on his current visit. After that last fight against the remnants, their version of Bahamut, and a newly risen Sephiroth, he had felt an inexplicable need to come here one last time. He had wanted to recount to Lucrecia almost everything that had transpired recently, only leaving the details about her son out of the tale. He wasn't even sure if she could hear him, and yet he still couldn't bring himself to let her know what Sephiroth had ultimately turned into. Though he suspected she already knew.

He lowered his gaze to the gauntlet that covered his left forearm. Lucrecia. Closing his eyes for a moment he tried to recall what she had looked like before everything had gone wrong. Before he had failed her. He wanted more than a mere image – for that, he only had to look straight ahead. What he really wanted to remember was her essence, that which had made her incomparably … her. But for some reason he couldn't quite capture the memory. Please forgive me.

When he looked up again, he had no idea how much time had passed. Although it didn't matter. He certainly had enough of it on his hands that he could spare an idle moment or two.

Vincent reflected on his conversation with Cloud in the Sleeping Forest, after he had rescued the blonde from his losing battle against Kadaj and his gang near the Forgotten Capital, just a few days ago. Especially the ex-Soldier's question had given him plenty to think about.

»Can sins be forgiven?«

He had pondered this question ever since. And still reached no conclusion. But his presence here now had sparked a wish to try at the very least. Like Cloud had.

He rose to his feet, a wistful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Yes, he would make sure he would not fail anyone else, like he had Lucrecia. He might still have a chance at redemption, slim though it may be.

Vincent turned around and stepped out of the cave. And for once he didn't look back.

Inwardly, Lucrecia screamed in anguish. If only she could move, or at least speak to him. Anything but only listen. He had absolutely no idea that she had heard everything he had said to her. This crystal was a most effective prison for her, even if there was no real physical body left. She had once chosen this prison for herself, as punishment for her crimes against those she loved. Now she regretted her decision. But as much as she wanted to, there was no way for her to get out of here. At least not on her own.

I am so terribly sorry, she thought desperately. I never meant for any harm to come to you. I never wanted to lose you. I wish for you to be … happy. At least, as happy as he could ever hope to be, given the condition his body was in now. Not to talk about … no, she couldn't bear even thinking about it. It was all her fault. If it weren't for her, he could have lived a relatively normal life. As normal a life as a Turk was able to live, anyway.

She knew there was nothing left she could do for him. She had done all she had been able to think of, and more – yet it hadn't been enough, if seemed. Despite her efforts, he was still suffering. She wished that her brother hadn't taken away her last attempt at saving Vincent – truly saving him, not what she had done to simply keep his body alive. From Marc's point of view, of course, it had been the right decision to make at that time. She wondered where he was now. Was he still alive? And what about Sarah? Or –

She would have shaken her head, had she been able to do so. After that … accident at the lab they had been furious with her. By Ifrit, Marc had been livid. Very understandably so. She had almost destroyed everything, just because she had been careless. She had been thinking about him, and about how she could … It didn't matter anymore. Her estranged family was just part of the price she'd had to pay for her many failings.

Lucrecia desperately hoped that they were all safe and sound. Especially … her. Most likely, Marc and Sarah had chosen a faraway place they considered safe. Wherever that may be.

How long had it been since she last saw any of them? Fifteen years? Twenty? Maybe even longer. Time had no meaning for her anymore. She wondered if they would ever forgive her for her grave mistakes. Lucrecia didn't expect them to. She didn't deserve anyone's forgiveness. Not for what she had done.

Please! If there is any way at all – at least, save him!

It was already past midnight when Tifa decided she would close her bar a bit earlier than usual. It had been a slow going evening, and she was tired. There were only three people still sitting at one of the tables, drinking, talking, laughing. She knew them well enough – they were here at least once a month. So she knew they would leave soon, to return to their homes and families.

Which meant that she would be on her own, then.

Cloud had been gone for a few days, since he was on a delivery tour. She didn't expect him to return home before tomorrow. The children were already sleeping, though it had taken Denzel a long time to fall asleep. He really did miss the blonde, his hero. After the last time Cloud had left the boy had a hard time believing that the ex-Soldier would actually come back. It hadn't been easy, but Tifa had finally managed to convince him that he had no reason to worry.

Yuffie was back doing chores for her father, or more likely on a hunt for Materia. Cid worked on his airship in Rocket Town and strained Shera's nerves, as usual. Barret was still looking for oil fields and other means of procuring fuel. Reeve was occupied with his relatively new organisation, for which he had found a rich sponsor. Nanaki was travelling all over the world, collecting memories and stories, trying to learn as much as he could. And Vincent? Well, Shiva only knew where the ex-Turk was holed up this time.

She pressed her lips together. At times like this, she really missed the old days. Not the fighting, of course. And especially not the constant danger they had been in. But she had always been surrounded by her friends. Their last reunion had been too brief for her liking. If she had to be honest with herself, she was still struggling to adapt to a normal, regular life.

Tifa closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She missed them. All of them. Even Vincent, as aloof and quiet as he tended to be. Though in all honesty, it was still Aerith whom she missed the most. The Cetra had been the best friend anyone could have wished for.

The scraping sound of a chair being pushed back made her jump. One by one, the last few remaining customers got up from their seats.

»Bye, Tifa.«

»Bye, Luke.«

»Take care, sweetie.«

»You too, Marvin.«

»See you around, luv.«

»Be safe, Jake.«

With that, they said their goodbyes and were gone.

Taking a look around, she didn't really feel like cleaning. But she knew leaving it until tomorrow wouldn't do her any favours, so she took a deep breath and set to work, collecting the bills the guys had left on their table. She had to admit, this was a rather comfortable routine. She could let her thoughts stray in any direction. No one would interrupt her, and she didn't need to worry about being rude or anything. Her only regret was that she had no one to share her thoughts with.

She busied herself with wiping the surfaces before she put the chairs onto the tables, so she could sweep the floor. All the while, one thought was chasing the next. Most of them concerned Aerith, and Cloud, of course. Like they almost always did. She felt bad for even thinking this, but … what had gone wrong, so that Cloud had chosen the Ancient over her? Wasn't she, Tifa, good enough for him? Had she offended him in some way, so his affection for her had waned at some point, without her even noticing? It had been two years since Aerith's death. But it seemed that he still had feelings for her. Why wasn't he able to let go?

Why wasn't she?

Tifa shook her head. Constantly rephrasing those questions in her head wouldn't supply her with any answers. And at some point, she would drive herself crazy. Especially without anyone to talk to about these matters.

She would never admit it to anyone, but she felt lonely.

Her head jerked up at a noise just outside her window. She grabbed her fighting gloves, just in case, and went to the door to open it. When she peeked outside, however, she didn't see anyone. »Hello?« she called out. »Anyone there?«

She received no reply. A gust of wind picked up, blowing a few strands of her dark hair into her face. Tifa scowled and pushed them away, tucking them behind her ears. The street appeared to be devoid of human life.

The small hairs on her arms raised and she shivered. Get a grip, she told herself sternly. It was probably just a stray cat.

She closed the door and, after a second of indecision, locked it. Then she squared her shoulders before she headed for her bedroom, checking on the children on her way.

Time to call it a night.

Naomi didn't recognise her surroundings as she entered the room. She turned back to the door with a frown on her face. The hall was tinged in a weird greenish light. She felt like she'd seen something like this before, but for the life of her couldn't remember when or where. Then she let her eyes wander about the room and noticed that she was on her own. She was positive that she had never been here before, yet somehow this place felt oddly familiar.

Just how on Earth was this possible?

She ran a hand through her shoulder length hair, fingers parting chestnut strands and causing a few of them to brush her cheeks. This was a dream, right? It had to be. She couldn't think of any other explanation. She nodded curtly to herself.

It wasn't all too easy to discern the interior of the room thanks to the poor lighting in here. She could barely make out a desk with an accompanying chair, an outdated monitor sitting on the tabletop. Seriously, when had this room been furnished? Back in the Eighties? Her gaze wandered a bit further until it fell on some sort of examination table, like those she had seen on TV in those crime solving shows. Back in the corner was a contraption that bore the shape of a glass tube, put onto a pedestal. From her position it looked empty. Other than that, there was just a cabinet.

Upon stepping forward, she noticed that the cabinet was filled with numerous files, stacked neatly onto the shelves. Naomi squinted. Each and everyone of them was labelled, but not all of them in the same handwriting.

She raised her eyebrows in confusion. Wasn't this all a bit too detailed for a dream? She raised her hand, fingertips slowly tracing along the spine of one folder. Project S. She'd never even heard of that. What in the blazes was the S supposed to stand for? Or the next one. Project G. She didn't think that this was something her father had worked on. At least, he'd never mentioned it to her.

She would certainly remember if he indeed had. To Hell with the details, since most of this Science stuff was all Greek to her anyway. Without her father's help she would never even have passed all those tests the school board had set. Yes, of course she understood the basic principles perfectly, but with all those weird formulas, calculations and evaluations … Ha!

Well, it had been lucky for her that her father taught that stuff, after he had quit being an actual scientist years ago.

She browsed through the files until one of them made her pause. Project C.

A shiver went down her spine. She couldn't really say why, but she felt like this might be something important. For whom, though? With trepidation she lifted the folder from the shelf. She couldn't decide if she should read it or not. It would probably be all gibberish to her anyway, so why bother?

Before she could make up her mind, though, she froze. She could feel the hair on the back of her neck lifting. Hugging the folder tightly to her chest, she took a tentative step back. Then she heard footsteps, dragging along the floor just outside of the room.

Uh-oh.

Jesus Christ, just who the Hell could that be? And how was she supposed to get out of here, preferably unseen? There weren't even any windows, for Heaven's sake! And it certainly wasn't dark enough to simply hide under the desk.

She suppressed a snort. As if she were still four years old and tried to hide from the boogeyman! Seriously. But wasn't this, like, some basic rule for nightmares?

As quickly and quietly as she could manage she hurried to the back corner. As she approached it she saw that the glass tube wasn't empty after all, but filled with some sort of greenish liquid. In fact, it was the same sort of green as the light she'd noticed in the hall before.

Her skin prickled uncomfortably. She dropped to her knees, the folder still pressed to her chest, and crawled into the narrow space between the wall and the pedestal, hoping that she could make herself small enough to remain unseen.

The same moment she had settled down, she heard someone enter the room. Naomi held her breath, glad about the semi-darkness as she narrowed her eyes. Maybe they'd think the room was empty and leave. Please.

But no such luck. Of course not.

The footsteps stopped somewhere in the middle of the room. No one said anything at first, there was just some slight rustling to be heard. So they were interested in the files, right? Maybe even this one?

Naomi cursed inwardly. Why couldn't she just wake up? This was a bloody dream, for Christ's sake!

But was it, really?

Her fingers started to grow numb from gripping the folder. Her legs began to tremble slightly. But she didn't dare move, or even relax, for fear to make a sound.

Then –

»Come out, come out, wherever you are,« someone called softly.

Naomi winced. She just couldn't help it. This voice … it wasn't very distinctive, but there was a certain malice to it. Even though she had no idea who she could tell. It was not like she even knew the man who had spoken. At least, his voice was completely unfamiliar to her. Her pulse quickened. Her brain screamed at her to get out of here. Now. Fast. But she barely managed to keep still, though it was a close call. She had the feeling that this was the best course of action. Or rather non-action. Oh, whatever.

Please. No one's here. Just go away!

She repeated this mantra in her head a few times. Somehow, surprisingly, he finally seemed to decide that he should try his luck elsewhere, and left the room.

Naomi waited for a few heartbeats before she slowly breathed out through her nose. That had been way to close for comfort.

Hang on. What was she even doing? It wasn't like she had been about to face Freddy Krueger. But still she would have thought that hiding was pointless. Had that guy found her, she would have just woken up, right? She didn't think that he had been looking for her specifically, but rather for … something.

Her gaze dropped to the folder, her knuckles white from gripping it tightly. Had she been right and he was looking for this?

She ground her teeth. Shaking all over, she tried to calm down. She was okay. Nothing bad had happened to her. That guy was gone as well. And she still had that folder. For whatever that was worth.

But this was a real stupid nightmare, she must say.

Run!

What the –? Where in the blazes had that voice come from now? She had never heard it before, but this one was as different from the one before as it was possible to be. For one, it was female. Apart from the fact that it sounded a lot nicer than the man's earlier. And rather impatient. As far as she could tell, no one else had entered the room, though. So, how on Earth –

Hurry!

All right already! Naomi rolled her eyes and got up, staggering as she did so. Jesus Christ, her legs felt like ants were crawling all over them.

Heck, where had that guy gone to? She would prefer not to run into him on her way out. Wondering which direction she should take after leaving the room – there was only one door, still – she heard that voice again.

Left.

Groaning inwardly, Naomi stopped short. Seriously, now? Left, as in the direction he had taken, or left, as in the direction she should go? She traipsed to the door and listened intently, but couldn't hear anything beside her own heartbeat.

Go left!

Fine, then. There was no need to shout at her. But now she finally had her specifics. She was still clutching that stupid folder. And listening to disembodied voices. Good thing this was a dream, or she might think she'd actually lost her marbles completely.

She hadn't made it very far, though, when she heard someone approaching from behind. The same dragging footsteps as before.

Shoot!

Naomi broke into a run without looking back, not really seeing where she was going in this murky green-tinged light. She didn't even consider looking over her shoulder, since that would most certainly just make her trip over her own feet. Of course, she would like to know just who exactly was following her, but she seriously doubted that she would be able to make out any details in these lighting conditions. So she preferred to concentrate on her way ahead.

After a while, she suddenly heard a muffled thump behind her, then silence.

What the Hell?

Don't stop!

Had the voice sounded impatient before, it was now certainly laced with a hint of panic, which startled Naomi. Was that guy really this bad?

She had no idea where she was. Trying not to lose her head, she ran on, trusting her instincts to guide her. When she thought she couldn't take one more step, she slowed down to catch her breath.

Holy –

And then, all of a sudden, she fell.

Slowly, Vincent stepped through the remains of the slums in Sector 5, not sure why he was here to begin with. Since Meteorfall, barely anyone really bothered to come here anymore. Apart from the very few people who still lived scattered throughout the neighbourhood because they couldn't afford building their own house in Edge, or because they couldn't stand to part with their family homes. It was mostly empty, had been for the past two years, except for that one time a few weeks ago. People were generally discouraged to stay anywhere in the city, especially near the old reactors, due to high Mako levels. And there were still the rumours the Turks had spread about Midgar's imminent collapse. Chances of meeting anyone apart from the Turks were pretty slim indeed.

And yet, it was like something had drawn him to this place.

As he quietly moved through the streets he didn't see anything out of the ordinary. He suppressed an irritated sigh. What had he expected? There was nothing to be found here. At least, he saw nothing that was worth looking for at any rate. A heavy silence stretched throughout the empty streets.

He was just about to turn around and head back the way he had come, but stopped dead in his tracks. He rather felt than saw or even heard it. His whole body tensed and he strained all his heightened senses to locate the source of the disturbance. Still, there was not a single sound to be heard, yet his skin prickled and his heart rate picked up slightly. He knew, without the alterations he would never have noticed anything at all.

The air seemed to vibrate for a moment. Then nothing. It was like the town itself held its breath. What in the name of sanity –

With a swift movement he raised his gun, slowly making his way towards the origin of this … burst of energy. This was not really what it had been, but this term came closest to describe it. He couldn't even say how he knew where he needed to go. He just did.

As soon as he reached the old Market Place, he saw it. Swirls of smoke were rising from the tattered roof of the Church. The one Aerith had once chosen as her very own Sanctuary when she had still lived here in the slums. Vincent narrowed his eyes. Had someone started a fire in there? Who would desecrate a place like this?

Before he got close he quickly hid behind a wall and glimpsed around its edge. There was no one in sight. Apparently, he was the only person around right now. He wondered what had happened in there. He listened closely, but there was still no sound.

After a few moments he continued on his way to the ruin, weapon still drawn. The door had been broken down recently – when Cloud had chased Kadaj through half the city to stop him from raising Sephiroth.

Vincent slowly entered the Church, gun raised, his eyes peeled. It smelled like someone had doused a camp fire with a bucket of water. Recently. His eyes skimmed the surroundings, but he could detect no source for any flames. The smoke rose from the pool in the centre, where Aerith's flowers had once grown.

There was a slow and constant dripping to be heard. Drops of water fell from the wooden beams above, hitting the surface of the small pond. The red-caped gunslinger tilted his head and stepped closer, sabatons clinking quietly on the hardwood floor.

Was that a shadow rising just in –

He quickly put his gun aside and jumped in. There was a body in the water! He grabbed the slim frame and turned it around. He looked down in astonishment.

What in Shiva's name was a girl doing in here?

Vincent lifted her out of the water to put her on the ground. Carefully, he pushed her wet hair out of her face. Apart from a small cut above her left eye, she didn't seem to be injured, as far as he could tell.

Was she still breathing? He couldn't say for sure. He had no idea for how long she had been in the pond. Before he could do anything else, she coughed up some water, but didn't regain her consciousness.

At least, now he knew she was certainly still alive.

What now?

Vincent shook his head. He shouldn't waste any time. This girl needed help. Quickly.

Once he got out of the water himself, he picked up his gun and sheathed it, right before he hoisted the girl gently into his arms. The sooner he got her out of here the better, he thought as he carried her through the empty streets until he finally reached his newly acquired apartment. It was the closest safe place he could think of, since very few people knew about it. And those few, he could trust.

He had never before felt the need for accommodation, yet had taken it upon himself to procure one anyway – at Tifa's insistence, truth be told. Though there had been no way for him to know he would actually find it useful one day. Especially not so soon.

Upon entering he kicked the door closed behind him and went straight to the bathroom. He sat the girl down on the floor, not even bothering to turn on the lights. He could see perfectly in the dark, and the electricity didn't work most of the time anyway. A closer look revealed that her clothes were not only wet from the water, but also burned in some places.

He blinked slowly. Had this been the source of the burnt smell in the air before? She didn't look as if she had been on fire – her skin was completely unblemished. Vincent shook his head. He would ask her as soon as she awoke.

Her face was rather pale, slightly freckled, otherwise unmarked. And pretty.

Closing his eyes for a second, he heaved a deep sigh. What in Shiva's name was he thinking?!

Vincent removed his gauntlet and glove, then he went to collect a few towels. As he returned, he noticed that she was shivering. He put down the towels and laid a hand on her forehead. It was hot. Burning, really.

Working quickly, he removed her wet clothes, and checked for further injury at the same time. The fabric clung to her slender frame. Then he did his best to dry her off before wrapping a towel tightly around her body. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her to his bedroom, which he had never even used until now.

He heard her mutter something indistinguishable, but he didn't think she would wake up very soon. Which was a good thing due to the lack of propriety to this situation. But appropriate or not – there was just no way for him to let her die of pneumonia right after he had saved her from drowning. Not if he could help it. His expression turned grim. He would never let anyone suffer again just because he failed to act.

An inaudible sigh escaped him as he pushed some hair out of her face. She looked pained, which came as no surprise. After he had watched her for a moment he went to the kitchen and collected a bowl which he filled with water, and got a cloth. Once he had returned, he narrowed his eyes and sat down beside her.

A few hours went by as he did the best he could to reduce her temperature. The sun had already risen before he even took notice of it. He was focused on his task and paid no heed to his surroundings. After some time she started to grow uneasy. Muttering in her sleep, she turned her head. Vincent suspected a nightmare, most likely caused by her fever, but was still hesitant to wake her right now. She needed to rest.

Finally, he put the cloth aside and gently shook her shoulder. »Miss?« he said softly.

The lack of reaction was not unexpected, yet worrying. It seemed as if she calmed down a bit, though.

»Miss?« he tried again, but still she didn't respond. Vincent took a deep breath before he got to his feet. He would call Tifa. Maybe she could help. Anyway, this woman might be more comfortable waking up with the brunette by her side than to the sight of him.

He had not even made a single step as her hand shot out and grabbed a piece of his cloak. She muttered something in a voice so faint he wasn't sure if he had imagined it. He leaned closer, just in case she said something else. She groaned, but uttered no words.

His eyes rested on her troubled face. She wasn't even conscious.

And yet, his mind was made up. He just wasn't sure what he could really do now, except …

Apparently, he wouldn't go anywhere soon.

It was not here. It should have been. He knew it. There was no way for it to be just gone. But for some reason, it was.

With a resounding crash, a fist slammed onto the top of the table before him. He had been so sure that he would finally get his hands on what he wanted. What he needed. This was unacceptable. Someone must have taken it. And it must have been recently. Probably just before he had arrived.

With narrowed eyes he turned around. This should have been so easy. But he was certain that there had been someone else in that room. Obviously the thief. Even if he hadn't been able to see anyone, he had heard … something.

He swore to himself that he would find them. He wished he could do that now, but he would have to wait. There was not enough energy left for another attempt. Not yet.

Soon, though. Soon he would possess what was rightfully his. And he would not show any mercy to the person who was trying to get in his way.