Ok, update. Thanks for reading and reviewing. I'm so glad this is being enjoyed. ONWARD!
"This is an important assignment. You'd better be at your best."
"I understand."
"I have noticed an increase in the castle's patrols. And I've heard they brought in a bodyguard from the Fighters Guild. You should plan accordingly."
"I will."
"And don't think for a moment that I won't chain lightening on you if you screw this up."
"Yes, my Speaker."
"Speaker, I believe he understands the risks. You are welcome in my Sanctuary until you complete your assignment."
"Then you get back where you belong. And don't take forever about it."
"Yes, my Speaker. I will not fail."
XXX
"That merchant cleared out today. Dropped his merchandise at Novaroma and left for the south after midday. Didn't see his apprentice though. Might be something. Might not be anything. But I guess that's your call, right?" Ongar said over the table.
Sharah rotated her bottle in thought. "Yeah…maybe. Keep an eye out for the apprentice, just in case. I'd like to know if he's still here or not. Anyone else?"
"An Imperial traveler from Skingrad is passing through, headed for Skyrim. He's staying at Jerall View. Skooma smugglers are moving a shipment though the Bruma Caverns tomorrow night…How far back do you want information anyway?"
"'How far back'? Depends on what activity you're referring to," Sharah said.
Ongar shrugged and took another drink. "I've just noticed more traffic from Skyrim in the last year. Folk moving over the Jeralls into Bruma. Big burly types, comin' down to settle in the city and around the area."
Sharah thought a moment. "We've gotten a few new members at the Fighters Guild. Is that who you're talking about?"
"Some. There are others, too. Moved down about the same time, I think. I don't know. Just seemed unusual is all, since they all like to meet with this one Nord woman who comes in here once a month. Uh…Johanna. Yeah, that's it. Not bad on the eyes. Eh, if I were a younger man, maybe."
Sharah pressed, "Do you think it has anything to do with this Countess business?"
Ongar shrugged. "I don't know. It's been steady for a while, so maybe not. Just thought I'd say something, since it's been so regular. Your call if you want to look into it."
Sharah considered. If it were so regular, maybe it was something else. Hm…something to keep in mind. "Watch out for that apprentice, and let me know what that Skingrad person does in town. If that's it…?"
"Yeah. Hey, you gonna finish that?" Ongar asked as she stood up.
Sharah chuckled and left her half empty bottle in front of him. Ongar downed it while simultaneously waving at Olav for another while she left. Nords. She didn't have to offer Olav money or favors to get him to do what she asked. Winning over an average Nord usually involved alcohol or weaponry. Or both. And since Ongar was past his prime and a thief, all she really had to do was cover his boozing. One day, she'd figure out how he managed to drink and sleep so much while still staying well informed.
The walk back to the castle was uninteresting. It was surprising how well she settled into this bodyguard business. Sharah half expected to start chomping at her bit being inside a sturdy enclosed castle with no idea when she'd leave. Or get a headache from constantly watching for an assassin to pop out of the shadows. Or get bored beyond belief of standing around while Marisia went about her business.
In actuality, it felt like a hunt. Like she was lying in wait for her quarry to come into view. In that frame of mind, Sharah hardly felt the time pass. She was hunting for prey that would come to her. Lady Marisia was just a bystander in Sharah's mind. More bait to lure in the prey than anything else. Not that that meant Sharah wouldn't protect the woman faithfully. And not that Sharah was about to say anything to her about being bait. Especially with Lady Marisia still casting uncertain glances at her bodyguard.
Sharah couldn't help it. The hunter mindset just reflected in her posture and expression. There was nothing to be done about it. And Yvara wasn't helping, either. The two noble folk met regularly, drafting out some trade agreement, so the steward was constantly tossing icy glances soaked in suspicion back at Sharah, who was always present.
Sharah did not take it personally. They were the same sort of glances Sharah directed toward anyone she didn't recognize who set foot in the castle. At least Yvara's suspicion was born of her duty. There had been that other steward, also a Breton, in Anvil. Now that woman really was a noble ass. Yvara, at least, had good intentions behind her mistrust.
The following day, during a brief moment of quiet, Sharah inquired of Lady Marisia, "So…who exactly wants you dead, anyway? If I may ask."
Lady Marisia replied, "It has to do with this." And she lifted the papers she and Yvara had just been going through. "We want to arrange a trade agreement with the Jarl of Riften. Someone from a merchant family there is trying to prevent it."
"So they're targeting you?"
"This agreement is my responsibility, and the agreement itself is very intricate. Without me, it might take months to draft another…And my death would send a message to my sister, as well as the Jarl." Marisia said it all as though she were just talking politics, her potential murder having nothing at all to do with it.
"And that's who's in the dungeon? Someone from this…other family?"
Lady Marisia nodded. "The Black-Briars. I believe he worked alone. But it's hard to say. I only hope that completing this agreement will make my death pointless. If my death will delay the agreement, its success might be my best chance."
Sharah replied, "I'll keep you alive to do it then."
Political intrigue. Damn, Sharah hated politics. All twists and secrets and complicated knots. And apparently hidden daggers and desperate souls, too. And all of it trouble, trouble, trouble. Sharah settled back into her guard stance with a hand resting on Umbra's pommel. And, like all trouble, chances were it would come in three.
XXX
The first attempt was heart wrenching. A week after Sharah arrived and nothing had happened. Some people got more relaxed, perhaps believing the danger wasn't so imminent. Others, like Sharah, got more tense, knowing time only brought the danger closer. Court dinner was held at the usual time. Narina and Marisia exchanged talk about the county issues and the trade agreement's progress. A representative from the Jarl of Riften was coming to Bruma to oversee the last details. And Yvara was once again making comments about how they didn't really need a bodyguard after all this time of quiet.
Sharah was ignoring her and scanning the doorway to the audience chamber when Lady Marisia coughed. She raised a hand to her chest and rubbed, like she was trying to alleviate some pressure.
"Marisia, are you alright?" Narina asked out of concern.
Lady Marisia nodded. "Oh, yes…just a little indigestion…" Her hand shook as she reached for her goblet. The cup dropped from her grasp the moment she picked it up and Lady Marisia slumped in her chair going deathly pale.
The whole table was out of their seats and looking horrified. Sharah was at Marisia's side in a moment and Narina cried out in fear. The Wolf looked at the plate in front of her charge and the reality slapped her in the face. Damn! Of course. They were assassins. What had she been expecting?
Sharah bolted from Marisia's side and straight for the door while the court folk and dinner guests clustered forward. She ran as fast as she possibly could straight out into the audience chamber and behind Narina's throne. She ignored the lock and smashed a display case open to snatch a bulky stone necklace out of the shards of glass. Then Sharah was racing back for the dining room.
There was a crowd clustering close to where Marisia now lay on the ground with Narina clutching her hand. Sharah arrowed for their center. "GET OUT OF MY WAY!" she roared. The people scattered in fear and Sharah vaulted over the table and dropped to the ground beside Marisia. One quick motion and the necklace was around her neck. The noblewoman didn't look good. Her skin was grey and her breathing was shallow.
Sharah closed the lady's free hand around the stone and said, "Marisia, you need to keep breathing." Then she reached out her…mind? Magicka? It was completely on instinct so she hardly knew the difference. Regardless, Sharah reached into the amulet and plucked the stone's enchantment like a lute string. There was none of the usual mental focus and magicka direction, just raw reaction. But the enchantment sang to life in response.
Sharah kept the woman's hand closed around the thing as she felt the stone grow warm, then hot. Marisia tried to let go of the scalding stone, but Sharah forced her to keep contact. "Don't let go. Just hang on." Sharah kept the stone pressed between Marisia's chest and palm, all contact with skin while the enchantment spread through, hot as fire, burning away the poison's deadly invasion. Gradually, her skin gained color, her chest expanded more regularly with breath, and finally her eyes opened.
"Just stay still, let it pass completely," Sharah instructed. Just to the side, Narina's sobs came out of the background. So did the worried whispers of the onlookers, and some yelling orders from the next room. All the things Sharah had blocked out for the sake of the crisis.
Narina finally managed to speak. "What…what did you…?"
"Draconian Madstone from your collection. Didn't you say it gave immunity to poisons? Well, here's the proof. I'm glad its enchantment hasn't faded over the centuries." It had been a gamble, going for the Madstone. Thank the Nine Sharah had made the right choice in those crucial moments.
When Marisia could sit up, Captain Burd came rushing in. "I've sealed off the kitchen. We'll find out who did this."
They didn't, of course. Only Marisia's plate had been poisoned. The kitchen staff and servants were clueless. Some of them mentioned seeing a stranger, but they couldn't agree whether he had been Imperial, Breton, Bosmer, or Nord. Or even what he looked like. And none of them saw where he'd gone. A dead end and no way to track the culprit.
The flurry died down, Yvara stopped accusing Sharah of being useless or an associate of the assassins. And while the glass of the display case was replaced, the Draconian Madstone remained around Lady Marisia's neck at all times, especially at meals, while Sharah began carrying some extra potions in her belt.
XXX
Fanar, the representative of Riften's Jarl, arrived a couple days later. With a big Nord bodyguard. He was concerned to hear that there had been an attempt on Marisia's life and was all the more eager to see the agreement settled. Sharah couldn't decide if it was for the sake of Marisia's life or for his city's economy.
The two met in a conference room with Yvara in attendance. Sharah paid the barest attention to their work, focusing instead on the windows and the doors. When she turned her attention on the other bodyguard, she found him looking straight at her. Another scan of the room, another look at him and he hadn't moved an inch.
Sharah casually walked the distance between them and stood next to him, still focusing on the room. "Problem?"
Out of the corner of her eye, she could still see him looking at her. "What are you supposed to be?"
"Lady Marisia's bodyguard."
He snorted.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Sharah asked quietly, not wanting to disturb the business that was happening in the room.
"You're tiny," he said in disbelief.
She cocked her head and eyed him. "And?"
"You couldn't drive off a mudcrab. What are you doing here?"
"And you're an expert on these things?"
He drew himself up. "I am Hagrad Stone-Turner, housecarl for the Jarl of Riften."
This time Sharah snorted.
Hagrad growled, "What, small-fry?"
Sharah smirked back. "Nothing. Housecarl, huh? I heard of those. Warrior when they let you outside. Maid when they don't. I can only guess how much time you spend dusting compared to how often you actually bloody your sword."
The Nord loomed over her. "I have served the Jarl of Riften for fifteen years. Don't think you can mock me."
"Really? But it's so easy, maid-boy."
"What's your name?"
"Why do you want to know?"
"So there's something on your tombstone when I crush you flat."
She looked up at him, unafraid. "Sharah the Wolf."
Hagrad paused. Then grinned, "You're joking with me."
"No. That is my name. Ask anyone."
The Nord grinned and gave her a lively shove that forced her over a couple steps. "Little thing like you? Ha! I've seen real wolves twice your size. And werewolves…Ha! They'd swallow you in one bite."
Sharah sighed. "If we weren't on duty, I'd make you eat a few of those words."
He crossed his arms and laughed. "Is that so? Well, let's just do that some time. And I'll show you what a real warrior can do, pup."
"Fine then. Now would you keep your voice down? They are trying to work."
Hagrad stood back, chuckling every so often, mumbling "Wolf", then chuckling again. Sharah sighed. She didn't know if he was an idiot because he was a Nord, a man, or a Nordic man. Whatever his predisposition, it wasn't her issue. As long as he didn't get in her way when the assassins showed up.
XXX
The second attempt was more direct. And her new Nord buddy helped not at all. Sharah went down to Olav's for her nightly meet with Ongar. No new developments: that possibly vanishing apprentice hadn't been seen and there were no new arrivals. So Sharah was back at the castle early and crossing the Lord's Manor well before her allotted time was up. That was where Hagrad accosted her.
"Well, you're early."
A little growl vibrated in the back of her throat, but not loud enough for him to hear. "What do you want, Hagrad?"
"What we agreed," he said, gulping the last of his drink and tossing the tankard aside. "Time to see what kind of warrior-wolf-pup you are." Hagrad drew his sword and beckoned with a lopsided grin. He was drunk enough to be an idiot, but not drunk enough for it to overly affect his abilities.
Sharah shook her head. "I don't have time for this. I need to get back to my post."
He blocked her way when she tried to pass. "Uh-uh, you're off for a while longer. I know that. Come on, wolf-girl. I want to see what kind of warrior can fit in a cabbage crate."
She growled audibly at him. "I am not going to fight you. There's no point in hurting one or both of us while the Dark Brotherhood is sneaking around."
When she tried to pass him by again, he struck at her with his sword. Sharah leapt back and bared her teeth in a wolfish expression she had gotten far too comfortable with. "Back off, Hagrad. There's no point to this."
Sharah tried to get around him again and the Nord repeated his strike and then some. Umbra flew from the sheath and met Hagrad's second pass with a ring that echoed through the halls. He got this great imbecilic smile like battle was his greatest joy and he'd just been waiting for the chance to show his mettle in the castle. Sharah just wanted back in view of Marisia. And if she had to beat a Nord up to do it, fine.
Except the Nord was tough. Oh, he was big, bulky, cumbersome, and drunk. But the man was certainly a warrior. No less than she. And apparently he had experience wielding a sword while under the influence. Sharah avoided his blows, dancing around the hall while looking for a way to finish the fight fast. Maybe knocking him over the head with her pommel.
Hagrad's sword came down hard on the stone, but she had leapt away, alighting on a table. He grinned wickedly at her. "I wish your little buddy were here to see me wipe the floor with you. Bet he wouldn't be such an adoring fan then."
The big sword smashed into the table, sticking fast in the wood while Sharah flew through the air and landed behind him. "What are you talking about?"
Hagrad jerked on his sword until it came free and swung wide for her. "He told me what you said. No way you get away with that. Maybe you shouldn't have friends with such big mouths."
Sharah ducked out of the way and parried such that both their points hit the floor and held them there. "What friend are you talking about?"
The Nord tried to yank his sword free from her angled trap. "Your little wood elf buddy. He had a lot to say about you. You think you're so tough. I'll show you tough."
Sharah danced back when his blade slipped free. What Bosmers did she know in Bruma…oh, no! Sharah looked around frantically. Their little battle had drawn an audience. Mostly of guards who'd come to see what the trouble was and were still deciding if they should intervene between two battling warriors. And there were two among them she recognized. "YOU! What are you doing here?"
The two guards looked between each other. "We…heard the commotion…"
Sharah ducked around Hagrad's next attack and bounded for the stairs while he yelled something about cowardice after her. But she didn't hear. Didn't listen. She just ran. Up the stairs, across the banister, through the door, down the hall and straight for the door that now had no guards. Sharah burst into Lady Marisia's chambers to see a dark clad figure kneeling at Marisia's bed chamber door with picks in the lock.
Whoever he was, her entrance startled him. Sharah roared and hurled the fireball that had leapt to her hand. It rocketed through the air, but not at him, smashing into the door he was trying to open. The assassin leapt back as the heat exploded against the door and scrambled to his feet. Sharah was already racing across the room, Umbra still unsheathed and some ungodly sound erupting from her mouth. Sharah swung Umbra without pause, driving for her enemy. The enemy she'd been anticipating and who'd gotten within her guard. Something he wouldn't live long enough to regret doing.
Her interruption and monstrous charge had caught him completely off guard. Before her assault, the assassin could only scramble backwards, just getting away from her thirsty blade. Sharah didn't let up, not in the least. But in the back of her mind she wondered: was this it? Was this the Dark Brotherhood everyone was so terrified of? Was this an assassin, a bringer of death, this flailing figure who couldn't get a steady step beneath him?
Whatever plan he'd made was cast to the wind. The assassin dropped under a table for an instant's repose, then came out the other end and bolted for the door. Sharah followed, the bloodlust ringing in her soul. He skidded almost comically out the door, took two steps, spotted the guards coming at him from that direction, turned tail and ran the other way like Oblivion was on his heels.
Before Sharah even got to the door, she knew she probably wouldn't catch him. He was faster than she was and the castle had too many long hallways for him to pick up speed. And at the door frame, even through the heat of battle and the desire to spill blood, Sharah's task shackled her like a collar. What if he had backup? What if he circled back? What if, what if—? She couldn't leave Marisia's chambers. She had to protect the woman…no matter how much she wanted to hunt the assassin down now that she'd had him within reach.
Sharah roared after him, "FLEE, ASSASSIN!" The guards raced past the doorframe she stood in as though borne forth on the strength of her words. The assassin disappeared around the far corner with the guards in pursuit, leaving Sharah trembling where she stood, mostly from the effort it took to keep her feet where they were.
She'd had him. The assassin had been right there, and she'd let him get away. She'd meant to strike him with the fireball. Hadn't she? She had meant to run him through with her sword. Hadn't she? She'd meant to box him in against a corner and trap him for death by her blade or the guards'. Hadn't she?
That had all been the intent. But…thinking to the past few moments…her fireball had been aimed a little high, her strikes a little off the center. Maybe she was slipping. Maybe it was all the waiting. Sharah forced herself to step backwards, one shaky step at a time. She'd been off. Just a little, in everything she'd just done. And the assassin had escaped because of it. Sharah ran a hand through her hair. She had to get a hold of herself. The assassin had gotten close. She couldn't let it happen again.
Sharah sheathed Umbra and went back to the door. "Lady Marisia? It's Sharah. Are you alright?"
There was a moment of silence. Then the lady answered, "Y-yes. I'm alright. What's happening?"
Sharah breathed, partly from relief, and partly to calm herself. "The assassin got into your chambers. I've chased him off. The guards are on him."
"They got into my chambers!?"
Sharah pulled out her key and went for the door handle. It was still warm from her fireball, but only minimal fire damage. The lock needed to be jiggled, but it gave way alright. On the other side, Lady Marisia was pale and standing with a hand on her chest. "It's alright now, my lady. He failed, and steps will be taken to ensure this doesn't happen again."
Captain Burd, some guards and that great lump Hagrad chose then to come through the Lady's chamber door.
"Lady Marisia, are you alright?" Captain Burd asked hurriedly.
Lady Marisia still looked shaken but maintained a steady voice. "Yes. I was locked in my chambers during the intrusion. Sharah the Wolf drove the assassin off."
Sharah said, "Is the castle on high alert? You might still be able to catch him."
Captain Burd answered, "The alarm is already sounded. We'll know soon enough, and search the whole castle if we must."
Well, that would be a waste of time. Sharah knew the assassin would get off the castle grounds as soon as possible. There was no salvaging a night like tonight. He'd have to try again later.
The captain continued, "How did he get in? How did he get in here?"
Sharah glared Hagrad. "Why don't you ask him."
The housecarl lurched. "Me? I didn't do anything."
Sharah growled at him, "You let yourself get manipulated into fighting me. A fight which drew the guards from their posts and almost got Lady Marisia killed. That Bosmer 'buddy' who talked to you was the assassin, you idiot!"
His mouth opened and closed like a fish, and he looked around trying to find some sympathy among those present. There was none.
Captain Burd looked furious, but asked Sharah, "Did you get a good look at him?"
"No. He had a hood and mask on. I saw no discerning characteristics." She jerked her head at the housecarl. "He might have more, though." Chances were the enemy wouldn't approach the Nord in full assassin garb.
Under the angry Captain's glare, Hagrad blustered, "He was…a wood elf. Pointy ears and…a wood elf." Idiot couldn't even get past the race on the description.
"There aren't that many Bosmers in Bruma. He shouldn't be too hard to single out. You'll stay with Lady Marisia?" Burd asked.
Sharah nodded, though it chafed her. "Yeah. We'll stay put."
The group gradually cleared out, Hagrad looking suspended between his pride and guilt. Sharah locked the door behind them and went about righting some things that had been upset during the fight. Anything to keep her mind centered. She needed to be calm, no flying off the reins. She still had an urge to head out onto the grounds and put her nose to the ground, so to speak. Track that killer back to whatever hole he'd ended up in. He was probably that Bosmer merchant apprentice. But it was impossible to know since she'd never seen him. Once the obvious things had been returned to their places, Sharah took to pacing in slow deliberate steps.
Marisia sat down, twisting at a handkerchief: her own method of coping with near death. Not long after, there was a knock at the door. Sharah inquired and admitted Countess Narina and her personal guard. The Carvain sisters embraced and sat for a while, talking and easing each other. Sharah kept back, shadowed and alert. There was talk of abandoning the trade agreement. But Marisia had her own level of determination and refused to give in. Sharah greatly respected the woman for that.
Finally Narina departed and Marisia went to her bedchamber. Sharah locked both doors, set her pallet across the inner one, but she'd get no sleep tonight. Too anxious. Too eager.
"Sharah," the lady spoke from her bed.
Sharah leaned up on an elbow and looked over. "My lady?"
"You may call me Marisia."
Sharah settled back onto her pallet. "As you wish." Nothing like an assassination attempt to win someone over.
XXX
"You failed. Twice. They will not be pleased to hear about this."
"It was the bodyguard! She was…She caught me by surprise. That's all. There's still time. I'm not done yet."
"What will you do, then? Do you think you can infiltrate the castle a second time?"
"Perhaps. But not those quarters again…I have a plan. I'll make the mark come to me. And I will use my strength. I will succeed this time. I swear it."
XXX
Sharah didn't think herself any more or less alert than she'd been in the past weeks. Well, perhaps she touched Umbra's hilt more often, but nothing more than that. The whole castle seemed tense though. Everyone recognized the assassin had gotten inside. That their patrols and attentiveness hadn't been enough. It was enlightening. Lady Marisia remained in the relative safety of her quarters more often than not. But the work on the trade agreement was completed, much to the relief of all.
Sharah watched them put the final touches on the document. "Is this satisfactory?" Marisia asked.
Fanar nodded. "Yes. As a representative of the Hold of Riften, I can accept the terms of this agreement. Now all that remains is to get the Empire's seal of approval, since this spans the border."
Lady Marisia replied, "You'll understand if I send a representative of my own for Bruma. I do not think it wise to travel the wilderness at this time."
"Of course. Who will you send?"
"Yvara, the steward of Bruma Castle. She knows as much about this agreement as I do."
Fanar agreed, "Good. Then we will depart tomorrow for the Imperial City. The sooner we get this whole thing behind us, the better."
Lady Marisia nodded ascent. Even Sharah couldn't help but breathe a little easier. She wanted another crack at the assassin, but Marisia's life was worth more than her petty killer-drive. And then there was the chance that the Dark Brotherhood would follow through on the assassination with or without the trade agreement. Only time would tell.
XXX
Sharah came awake the following night to a cry. A muffled, distant, desperate cry of agony. Lady Marisia didn't wake from it. Sharah removed herself from the pallet and strained her ears for another sound. Nothing. Still as night. She cleared her mind, spoke the incantation and visualized her magicka flowing up and pooling behind her eyes. When she opened them, there was not a spark of life within her range of her enchanted sight save for the lady asleep in the bed. So Sharah dared to unlock the door and step into the room beyond.
Locking the bedchamber behind her, Sharah went to the main chamber door and stood still there, listening. Something was amiss. She could feel it. It felt…like the first patters of stone that gave way to the landslide. Something was coming. Something that was now inevitable. Sharah got the sense that fate was, in this instant, giving her a warning that she was in for a wild ride. Then the little window into her future closed and she was left with just the anticipation.
Sharah didn't know how long she stood waiting. Only that the knock on the door was not surprising when it came. "Identify yourself," she demanded.
Whoever it was hesitated, clearly not expecting her to be waiting there. "Lieutenant Gerich Senarel." Sharah knew the name, the man and the voice. But she still cast life detect again before opening the door. No need to get sloppy.
The man's expression was strained, as though he carried the direst of news. "What's happened?" Sharah asked curtly.
The Lieutenant swallowed. "Steward Yvara's been murdered."
Silence. "When?"
"Not long ago. Captain Burd is…I'm sending out the alert. And assigning a guard here, in case…they're still here."
More silence. "I'll tell Lady Marisia. Go to your task."
No more communication was needed. The two guardsman took their place outside Marisia's chamber door and Sharah went back to the bedchamber. Lady Marisia remained blissfully asleep and unaware.
Poor Burd. His wife killed. Probably because the Dark Brotherhood couldn't get to Marisia. Just because Sharah hadn't gotten along with the woman didn't mean she deserved this. And Burd…who else could have cried out other than him?
Sharah was oddly calm. Her mind flowed like a steady mountain river fed by the winter ice. The trade agreement needed to be signed by representatives of both engaged groups, in the Imperial city. Riften had their representative. For Bruma, it would be either the Yvara or Marisia. So the Brotherhood had killed Yvara. Marisia would have to travel to the Imperial City, or the agreement would be dead on the paper. She would have to travel the road. That's what they wanted. And that's where they would strike.
Sharah eased down on her pallet, oddly calm. They were going to get their chance…and so would she. Sharah closed her eyes and breathed deep. She was completely calm, completely cold. Let Marisia sleep a bit longer. The inevitable would come soon enough. And Sharah was ready to step into whatever it was fate had in store for her.
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