Mara Marsk's home seemed gloomier than usual. Silence; a palpable silence. Something was amiss, though Cerys could not quite put her finger on it. Her breath lingered in her throat as the gravel path leading to Mara's rotting door crunched beneath each deliberate step.

She drew back her fist to knock, but as it connected, the door creaked and swung inwards. Cerys' stomach twisted at the sight of feathers in the dark hallway.

"Mrs Marsk?" she called out, and held her breath in silence, waiting for any kind of a response. It did not come. Cerys swallowed, and pushed the door further, allowing light to flood the dim hallway. The light streamed in, catching every dust particle, and Cerys had to squint to see past the refracted glow. "Mrs Marsk?" she called again.

When Mara did not answer for the second time, Cerys stepped inside. The floorboards creaked beneath her foot and her stomach turned over in surprise. Biting her lower lip, she bent down to examine the feathers; they were the same honey brown as the one she'd found in her hair. Plucking one between her fingers, she rose to her feet, and held it up to the light.

Clatter. Her head snapped towards where the sound had come from. Her stomach twisted into knots. Taking a deep breath, she made her way further into the house, towards the grimy kitchen. It looked exactly as it had done the last time she'd visited, and she was certain Mara hadn't cleaned a single thing. It smelled worse. Worse than anything she'd ever smelled. Clatter.

The back door swung on its hinges, hitting the doorframe. It sat askew. Cerys could not recall it being so lopsided on her last visit, but she hadn't been looking. Clatter. Something was stopping it from shutting all the way, though the breeze was trying its hardest. Her gaze fell to the floor as she took a step closer.

Wedged between the door and its frame, Mara's hand lay limp. "Oh, gods!" Cerys gasped, clasping a hand over her mouth. She took a half-step back. A wave of nausea washed over her. Clatter. The door swung again. She closed her eyes, her heart racing. Taking a deep breath - one she regretted - she reached for the handle, and her hand hovered only inches away when she realised this could very well be a crime scene. She froze and swallowed again, though it did nothing to abate the growing nausea.

"What do I do?" she asked in a whisper, taking another step back. Grimacing, she turned away, hand still over her mouth. She had to get Diero. He'd know what to do. She didn't particularly want to see him again just yet, but… Opening her eyes, she glanced over her shoulder at Mara's hand, her features twisting in uncertainty. She turned her head back towards the front door and took quick strides, pulling the door to - but not closed - behind her.

It felt as though only seconds had passed before she was back in Diero's office. The man in question looked up from his desk, his glasses half way down his nose. At the sight of Cerys' pale features, he plucked them from his face and placed them down upon the table.

"Cerys?"

"I…" She didn't know how to say it. "Something happened."

"Are you alright? You're not hurt, are you?"

She shook her head. "But… Mara. Mara… She's…"

"Mrs Marsk?"

Cerys nodded. "Yes. She's… Diero, she's dead."

Diero brought his fist to his mouth, his blue eyes widening. He sat in silence for a moment, his breaths shallow and inaudible. After a moment of sitting, motionless, he nodded. "Right," he said, rising to his feet. Reaching under his desk, he produced a briefcase, and then stepped around the desk and towards Cerys.

"Let's go," he said. Cerys nodded, following closely behind him as he made straight for Mara's.

The house was exactly as Cerys had left it. In truth, she wished it wasn't, desperately longing for it to have been a bad dream, to find Mara in her armchair, drinking from a leaky teacup. Regardless of her wishes, it was not so. As she and Diero timidly stepped into the kitchen, Mara's hand was where Cerys had left it; sticking through the doorway.

"I am so sorry you found this, Cerys," Diero said, placing a hand upon the small of her back. Cerys nodded. "I… must warn you."

"Why?"

"Depending on how long she's been here, this could be… very unpleasant."

"How much more unpleasant could it be?" she asked.

"I promise you, you don't want to ask that question," Diero said. "I've seen… some horrible things in my years as a lawman. If you want to stand out front while I deal with this, now would be a good time to go, because when I open that door… whatever you see, you will never forget," he said.

Cerys' eyes strayed to the front door. She'd have been lying if she said she did not want to stand as far away from Mara's motionless body as possible, but this was the job she'd chosen, the life she'd chosen. There was no turning back now. Face crumpling, she shook her head.

"No… Open the door," she said.

Diero scrutinised her, reading her expression very clearly before finally nodding in resignation. Taking a deep breath, he wet his lips and reached out, closing his hand around the doorknob. Mouthing a count to three, each silent number punctuated by a nod, he finally pulled the door open.

Flies exploded from the corpse, and Cerys let out a cry that was a mixture of shock and horror at the sight of Mara's remains. Her skin was no longer pale and loose, but orange and brown, and leathery. Her hair was sparser than Cerys had ever seen it. Her once piercing eyes were nothing more than dark chasms, though her glasses lay at an angle across her feet.

Surrounding her body was a dark liquid that looked entirely too much like blood for Cerys to feel calm, and not nearly enough like blood for Cerys to feel comfortable. Maggots crawled across her skin, but they weren't the only things eating. Ribbons of Mara's clothing were left strewn across the back garden, her blood stained the hay, and the bed of feathers that rested atop the hay. However, worse of all was the stench; the unmistakable, and oppressive stench of decay.

Only Mara's hand was left intact, although upon closer inspection, it too seemed lifeless, the flesh marbled and stiff.

"By the gods… how awful," Diero sighed. "She's been here for days."

"What do you think happened?"

He shook his head. "Honestly? She was an old woman, and she lived in an absolute tip… It's possible she slipped over something and hit her head on the steps here," he said, gesturing to the step just outside of the door. "Alternatively, she might have had a heart attack or a stroke." Sighing, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and used it to guard his own hand as he lifted her fingers to examine. "It was likely a very quick death, so there's a small comfort."

Cerys nodded, though she felt far from comforted.

"That's the problem with getting to be dear old Mara's age. You start falling to pieces."

"She didn't fall to pieces. She was ripped to pieces." Cerys grunted, gesturing to the shreds of Mara's dress strewn across the garden. Diero glanced at her, and nodded bitterly. "This is just awful."

He nodded again. "I'm sorry you had to be the one to find her," he said, then hesitated. "Why were you here?" he asked.

Sighing, Cerys wrapped her arms around herself. "I… told Paelias about Unicorn Run. He wanted in. Then, I told Shandri. She recommended I ask Ms Fireforge. I did, but she said she couldn't help me because of her business. So I went to the Frostbeards' to find out what the issue was. They said she'd argued with Ms Evenwood. Ms Evenwood said it had something to do with Mrs Marsk," she said. "Honestly, I came to twist Mara's arm into taking back her criticism of Ms Fireforge, so that her business could pick up, so that she'd come with us."

Diero blinked. "So you really want to do it?" he asked. "You want to come with me to the Vault of the Nine."

"Of course I do," Cerys said.

"Well, you ran away."

"I needed to think," she said. "I thought about it and realised I wanted to go."

"And Ms Kulenov told you to bring Ms Fireforge on board?" Diero asked. Cerys nodded and he scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Conniving woman," he muttered under his breath. "Okay, Cerys… this… What I'm about to do," he said, turning his gaze back to the corpse. "You have to understand why."

"Why what, Diero? That sounds rather ominous."

"None of Mrs Marsk's friends and loved ones deserve to see her like this. It's undignified and… I can't bear the thought of Mrs Marsk being remembered like this. I shan't pretend I was her biggest fan, but… she was still a person."

"You haven't said what you're going to do."

"Furthermore… there might be a way to salvage Ms Fireforge's career."

Cerys blinked. "How?"

Diero took a deep breath and reached into his briefcase, pulling out a vial of water that emanated a warm light. Uncorking it, he sprinkled it over Mara's body, and began to chant quietly under his breath. Cerys knew better than to interrupt him, leaving him to whisper to Mara's remains for a good minute or so, until he fell silent once more.

"What did you-?" Cerys stopped speaking. Her eyes widened as the damage to Mara's body started to reverse. The organs inside Mara reformed, and her skin shifted hues until it was back to its rosy porcelain colour. "Oh."

Diero nodded. "You visited Mara to ask her about Ms Fireforge," he said. "You found her slumped in her chair. She had suffered a heart attack and was on her deathbed, and her dying wish was to undo any of the hurt she caused in her life. You came to find me, but unfortunately, I arrived too late, and Mara had passed away."

There was a churning, deep in Cerys' gut. He was asking her to lie. Outright lie. She knew it wouldn't matter. Mara was dead. If her death could bring about at least some good, that couldn't be that bad. She'd have felt more comfortable with it, had she come to help Falkrun Fireforge for the sake of helping a struggling business owner, but she hadn't. She'd come to help Falkrun for the sake of helping herself. This felt anything but good to Cerys.

Diero continued to stare at her. He'd done something for her. Something probably illegal. For her. She couldn't reject his help, now… not now that he'd already done it. Swallowing her fear, she closed her eyes and nodded.

"Yes, Cerys?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"Cerys?"

"Yes," she said again, this time louder.

Diero waited until her eyes were open and focused on him, before nodding. Pressing her lips together, she turned away from the body, holding herself tightly. This felt wrong.

"We should tidy up," she said. "The blood in the garden and the feathers in the house," she added. "If anyone comes here to sort through her belongings, they're going to notice all of the blood."

"You're right. Good thinking."

"Why do I feel like we're covering up a crime scene?" she asked, her voice cracking.

"There was no crime, Cerys. This is not a crime scene. We are giving a woman who lived a good, long life, the dignified death she deserves," he said. "We are also just making sure she can do good by Ms Fireforge in the process."

She forced a nod, but she could not bring herself to agree. "I will tidy the garden. Can you tidy the house?"

"Yes. Then, we should dress poor Mrs Marsk, here, and put her in her armchair."

"Right," Cerys whispered, and bent down to open the kitchen cupboard, searching for a rake, or a dustpan and brush, or anything she might be able to use to tidy up the garden. She found a sack and a broom, and took one in either hand. Her fingers trembled, her hands unable to grip either.

"Cerys," Diero said, placing a hand upon her back again. She put the broom and sack down, and turned to face him. He smelled of sickness. Her eyes widened as she pictured herself arriving at work, only to find him slumped in his chair, maggots devouring his body.

Her eyes stang as she reached up with her hands to hold his face. He inclined his head in curiosity.

"Please don't die on me," she whispered. "Please."

Sighing, he placed his hands upon her forearms, his fingers lightly grazing her skin. His features softened. "Oh, Cerys." Leaning down, he rested his forehead against hers.

"Please. Just promise me I will never have to find you like this."

"I promise."

"You can't promise that."

"I promise."

"I never want to see you on the floor, lifeless and cold and… I… I can't take even the thought of that."

"Cerys," he said sharply, leaning back to look her in the eye. "I promise, alright? I promise. I don't go back on my promises." Lifting his hand to her cheek, he gently parted her lips with his thumb, and leaned in again.

Gasping in a shuddering breath, she tensed and pulled away from him, wrapping her arms back around herself. He backed up, giving her enough room to manoeuvre around him. She remained in place for a moment, before taking the broom and bag once more.

"We should…" she said, gesturing to the broom in her hand. He nodded.

"You're right. We should."

Stepping around him, Cerys headed over the back door, freezing before Mara's lifeless body. Taking a deep breath, she stepped over the woman's remains and into the garden.