A/N: This is me deciding in the end to upload my epilogue for this story. It's a little different in tone to the rest of the story, but hopefully it gives a little insight as to who Natalya – a character I've loved writing and will be sorry to say goodbye to – really is behind all the violence. Make of it what you will. And if you would rathe leave this up to the imagination, feel free to ignore this addition.

In case anyone is interested, I'm undertaking to edit Winter of Decay a little – just give it some polish, really. You'll be able to read more about that if you like in a new author's note in its first chapter.

And to Ten – I'd love to chat on discord, but it helps if you accept me as a friend ;) I'm Storm.

Enjoy the epilogue.

-Kio

Epilogue;

Ten months later

It was cold. The girl didn't mind. It was usually cold in Russia. She was used to it. She just pulled her coat a little tighter around her – black, like everything else she wore – and reminded herself that bad weather was a small price to pay for her freedom.

The cold had left the dirt track beneath her feet rock hard and cracked, and she had to be careful not to slip on the odd patch of frost. Keeping her pace even, she followed the track for a little over half an hour before coming to a stop. She turned and scanned the area behind her. There was no one there. No one visible at least. If there had been, she would have simply waited for them to pass, maybe engaged them in a brief conversation as they walked by.

It was a simple trick. If you were following someone in a city and they stopped, you found a plausible reason to stop too. A shop window, a bus timetable, a text on your phone. That didn't work on a dirt track two miles from the nearest town. Anyone following her could slow down a little, maybe they could pretend to be interested in a piece of scenery – not that there was much more than mud and barren trees on offer here – but sooner or later, they had to walk by. It would be too suspicious not to. The girl would have waited as long as she had to. She didn't mind. Safety was her first and only priority.

Satisfied, she hopped over the ditch at the edge of the track and started off into the trees. She followed the same route she always did. At this point, her path was visibly trodden into the undergrowth. If someone had really wanted to follow her, it wouldn't have been difficult. But then, they wouldn't have known about the hidden motion sensors or infrared camera concealed along the route. If someone was following her, she would know the moment she got home. Then she would be gone, or they would be dead. Whichever was simpler.

Once she cleared the trees, she came to another track. She followed it for a few minutes, then cut back to another path. In total, her journey home took over ninety minutes. If she had a car, she could've done it in twenty. She could certainly have afforded one.

But every day, instead of heading to a dealership, she opted for a short bus ride and a long hike. She preferred it that way. It was safer. And she didn't have anything better to do. It wasn't like there was anyone waiting for her at home, or ever would be. If she was going to be alone somewhere, it may as well be outside. At least it gave her space to think. And every time the cold bit her, it reminded her who she was. What she had survived. What it had cost her.

Eventually, the girl reached the cottage she called home. It wasn't as cosy as either the word cottage or the word home implied, but it was isolated, and that was all she had wanted. She owned it, technically. She had paid in cash, of course, and the name she had signed on the deeds wasn't hers, but she still owned it. She had since found the notion oddly comforting. A home wasn't something she could ever remember having.

She took out her phone and opened one of the only applications installed. The phone wasn't connected to any conventional networks – any connection, no matter how secure, could be traced. Instead, it was linked only to the suite of motion sensors she had rigged up in the cottage and the surrounding area. The signal range was only about a mile, but that didn't matter. If any were tripped during the day, the phone would buzz as soon as the girl was in range. She hadn't felt it buzz yet. But she still checked the phone before going inside. She always did.

A primitive display flashed up on the screen, confirming that there hadn't been any unwelcome activity. If there had been, or if anything else was amiss, the girl would have just walked away and never come back. It was that simple – safety was her first and only priority. She had a binbag buried a kilometre away containing a double sleeping bag, a warm change of clothes, two days' rations, a wad of US currency and an assortment of weaponry. A hunting knife, a sidearm that could be concealed, and a modified Kalashnikov rifle. Everything she would need to stay alive on the run for a few days.

The girl liked having the AK there. It wasn't strictly necessary, but it was reassuring. When she was inevitably compromised, she would do her best to slip away unnoticed, but that didn't mean she hadn't prepared for a fight. And no AK had ever let her down. She barely needed a second hand to count the moving parts, and it fired the kind of rounds that killed what they hit. You could carry a Kalashnikov through a sandstorm and a swamp and a Russian winter and still fight a war with it when you reached the other side. It was her kind of gun.

Ever cautious, the girl approached the edge to her property. She crouched down and reached under the bottom of the gate. The shaft of a match wedged between the gate itself and the frame was still poking out underneath, exactly where she had left it that morning. It wasn't visible, but she could feel it, and if the gate had been opened, it wouldn't have been there anymore.

The girl collected the match and pushed the gate open, making her way to the cottage. She glanced through the front windows, the inside shutters visible through the grime. All were exactly as she had left them; no one had opened the front downstairs windows while she was away. There were no upstairs windows – the girl had been sure to buy a house with only one floor. Acquiring enemies that could fly had forced her to modify her attitude to security.

She continued to the door. The traces of grease she smeared on the handle every morning were untouched. If anyone had touched it, they would have had to wipe it clean, find the can of grease and reapply it. It was possible, the girl acknowledged, but it wasn't likely. She unlocked the door and headed in.

Once she was satisfied that nothing in the front room had been disturbed, she carried on through to the dingy little kitchen at the back of the house. She would grab herself a drink of water, head down to the hidden basement and figure out what she was going to do with her evening. Read, probably. Leisure time was still relatively new to her, but she found she liked reading. Music, too. There was no TV in the house, no computer, no games consoles or anything like that. Just a small speaker and a few shelves of books and old CDs. The girl didn't mind. It kept her occupied, and it didn't leave any signals for anyone to chase.

The moment she entered the kitchen she saw it. For the last nine months, she had left the kitchen windows locked but with the latches only halfway down – still secure, but not something someone else would replicate. Except now, one of those window latches was all the way down. Someone had come in through the window and closed it from the inside. They were probably still here. The kitchen was the most logical place to wait for someone to return home.

She should run. She knew she should run. Just turn and bolt before whoever it was knew what was going on. She wasn't armed, but there was a gun hidden on a shelf opposite the front door. She could be outside and making a break for the trees with a gun in her hand before the invader had time to react. Or she could head for the basement, follow the escape tunnel to safety. Or she could fight. Was the invader here alone? If not, were their allies armed? Had they taken their time to find her escape routes and prepare?

The girl processed all of this in a heartbeat. She knew her options. Run, hide, fight. Each had multiple variations. If she acted fast, acted now, her chances were good.

But in spite of her screaming instincts, she didn't move. Didn't act. She just turned her head and scanned the kitchen, her eyes coming to rest on one of the countertops.

"Hello, Captain Short," said Natalya.

The elf materialised exactly where the girl was looking, her visor up, a blaster that definitely wasn't LEP regulation aimed squarely at Natalya. A human firearm was clipped onto her belt. She looked annoyed.

"How did you know I was there?"

Natalya allowed herself to smile. "You aren't as good as you think you are."

"But this is a shimmer suit. There shouldn't be any way to see me when I shield. Is it a perk of your magic?"

"No. I'm just better than you."

Holly scowled. "And yet, here I am, pointing a gun at you. I found you. Didn't think I'd manage that, did you? You probably didn't even think I'd survive Shangri-La."

Natalya shrugged. "I knew you survived. And you didn't find me. Either your boyfriend or your horsey friend found me. Which I always knew was possible." She nodded to the sink Holly was sat next to. "I'm going to get a drink. If you're not comfortable with me coming near you, I suggest you move."

Holly shook her head. "You're not moving an inch."

"Yes, I am. I'm thirsty. This is my house. I'm getting a drink. Either move, or shoot me."

The seconds dragged by as Holly held her gaze, but then the elf gave a grudging nod and shuffled away from the sink, the gun never wavering.

Natalya kept her eyes on the gun as she drew closer to the elf. Five metres between them became two, then one, then less. Holly's gun was almost in arm's reach. In less time than it took for Holly's brain to register what was happening, Natalya could have reached out and crushed the elf's wrist. Up against the counter, it would probably only have taken two or three solid punches to cave in her skull, reinforced helmet or not.

Natalya sighed internally. Even after everything, she was still being underestimated. When dealing with someone like her, doing anything other than killing them instantly was an error. Usually a fatal one. Voluntarily allowing her to close the distance between you and her was spectacularly stupid.

But Natalya didn't reach for Holly. She reached for a glass, filled it with water, and took a drink. She exhaled.

"So this is it? The culmination of your little vendetta? Don't you think it's a little lacking in melodrama? You and Fowl are normally so grandiose."

"Fowl is. I'm not."

Natalya held her gaze. "And he's not here, is he? He doesn't even know where you are."

Holly gave a slight shrug. "This is between me and you. What Artemis does or doesn't know isn't relevant."

Natalya nodded to a chair. "I'm going to sit down. Alright?"

"Fine."

"You must realise," Natalya said as she sat down. "That lying is a bad strategy. Especially in relationships."

Holly made a face. "And what on Earth would you know about any kind of relationship? Have you ever even had a friend?"

"I know that people's lies tend to catch up with them. You can lie for a while. It's easy. It pays forward the consequences of your actions. But eventually someone has to pay the debt. And then you wake up one day and get crushed by the weight of a thousand problems you should have addressed years ago. It isn't a strategy I recommend."

"Right," Holly scoffed. "Because you would never lie about anything."

"I have secrets," corrected Natalya. "And it's true, I'm not always as honest as I would like. But wherever possible I do try to avoid lying."

Holly looked on the verge of laughing. "Oh my god. You're a principled mass murderer. Amazing."

Natalya shrugged almost imperceptibly. "Everyone needs something to believe in."

Holly's voice lost its humour. "Seriously? You're happy to kill people, happy to torture people, but lying goes too far?

"Actually, I try to avoid killing people as well. Same goes for torture. I don't enjoy it. But sometimes it's necessary."

Holly seethed. "Necessary? You're going with that nonsense again? None of the appalling things you've done were remotely necessary!"

"You actually don't know that. Maybe they were necessary, maybe they weren't. But you can't argue with the results. I wanted revenge on Opal, and I got it. I have regrets, but I'm happy with how things played out, all things considered. Had I acted differently, it's not so obvious that things wouldn't have played out differently. For better or worse, my strategies, my actions, my ethics – or lack thereof – facilitated my goal. That validates them. They were good enough. True enough, maybe."

Holly struggled to find the words to reply. "You really think… everything you've done is somehow justified because it resulted in what you wanted?"

"That isn't what I think. It's what everybody thinks."

"I've never heard anyone else say anything like that."

The ghost of a smile passed Natalya's lips. "Maybe you weren't listening carefully enough."

"Yeah, or maybe you're just a psycho who thinks that telling the truth is more important than not murdering innocent people. How in Hell can you think that makes sense?"

"The line between what's true and what works isn't as clear as you think it is. Lying doesn't work."

"Actually, a lie can be a pretty useful tool."

Natalya shook her head but took her time responding. "After I broke out of New Dawn, I became a killer for hire – that's how Amber ended up finding me. It made sense for me – killing was what I was good at, and people were willing to pay me for it. And I needed paying for something, after all. I became surrounded by all the worst people you can imagine. And they all lied, all the time, because that's how the criminal world works. You could practically smell the deceit in the air. I killed liars, and I was paid by liars.

"And I noticed something. If you lie enough, you forget how to tell the truth. Forget what the truth is. You lose track of where the lies end and you begin. You forget who you are. Or maybe you lose who you are. I couldn't afford that. I knew I had to be as sharp as I could possibly be if I was going to catch up with Opal. And that meant making sure I could trust myself, above all else."

"Great strategy. I guess it was enough to get you your revenge on Opal. But it wasn't enough to save you from me, was it? Maybe if you'd been a little more moral, I wouldn't be here about to kill you."

"All of that would be true, if I believed for a second that you were actually going to kill me."

Holly's free hand toyed suggestively with the human pistol clipped to her belt. The fairy blaster remained pointed squarely at Natalya's chest. "No? You thought I came all this way just for a chat?"

Natalya shrugged again. "Truthfully, I don't know why you're here. I don't think you know, either. You're far too confused. Your real intentions, your real beliefs, aren't even remotely transparent to you."

The gun didn't waver. "I guess you'll die surprised, then."

"Go on then."

Holly's finger tightened on the trigger, but she didn't pull it. "Actually, there's something I want to ask you."

Natalya smiled, her confidence validated. "Of course there is. Anything to delay facing up to what you are attempting to do."

Holly ignored the bait. "You made Artemis try and kill me. You tortured him and robbed him of his free will, and then you made him shoot someone he loved."

"That isn't a question."

"Opal turned you into her puppet and you never forgave her for it. That's the root of all of this. And the first chance you got, you passed the exact same cruelty onto Artemis. Why? How could you possibly justify that?"

Natalya's composure slipped, ever so slightly. "I needed an edge."

"That's it? And it worked, so I guess it's all fine then?"

Natalya was quiet for long enough that Holly began to doubt whether she was going to get a response. "What do you expect me to say?"

"I honestly don't know. I just want you to see the hypocrisy."

"I'm not stupid, Holly. I was more than capable of working out that I had made myself a hypocrite without your little lectures."

Holly hesitated – thrown, slightly, by the admission – but only for a second. "And yet here you are, unrepentant."

Natalya barked out a sharp laugh. "Unrepentant. As if words change what's already done." She paused, agitated. Her gaze refused to meet Holly's. "You want me to apologise, is that it? Apologise, so you have an excuse to walk away?" She shook her head. "No. I don't answer to anyone but myself. Least of all you; you who plays God, plays the righteous executioner; you who stands over me time and again to play games with my life. I don't owe you a thing. You put yourself in that position; I'm not going to give you an easy out.

"But if you're so desperate to hear me say the words… fine." She looked up. "You can pass them onto Artemis. I misjudged him. I misjudged how things were going to play out after we escaped the Nebula Facility. I did what I thought I had to, and… I miscalculated. What I did wasn't necessary. It was a mistake."

Holly was outwardly unmoved. "You still haven't said the words."

Natalya glowered. Technically, she had already apologised, though Artemis was in such a state at the time he hadn't heard it. She meant it then, and she meant it now, so in theory it shouldn't bother her to say it again. But then again, Holly was here now. Threatening her. Natalya didn't like making concessions looking down the barrel of a gun, even if it was a concession she agreed with. A girl had to have principles, after all.

She swallowed her pride. "You can tell him I'm sorry." The words came out through gritted teeth. "You happy now? Any more little questions you want to ask?"

Holly waited for a while, then her expression softened, ever so slightly. The gun lowered a fraction.

Natalya raised an eyebrow. "Brave."

"Not really." The gun lowered a little further. "It was brave letting you get near me before. It was brave not shooting you on site. I've seen you move. You've had ample chance to kill me today. And yet you stayed put."

Natalya was taken aback. "You knew?"

"Of course."

Natalya inclined her head in a sort of credit-where-credit's-due gesture. "I suppose you aren't as stupid as I thought after all."

"Aww, you're sweet. Now tell me the truth: why did you heal me at Fowl Manor?"

"I told you at the time."

"And that was the truth?"

A shrug. "Some of it."

"And the rest?"

No longer feeling threatened by the gun, Natalya stood up. She was a lot taller than Holly. "No more questions. Use your imagination to fill in the blanks. Or don't. It doesn't matter to me."

Holly shrugged. "Fine. Keep your secrets." She smiled. "But I'm still not going to let you just walk away."

This time, Natalya did move. Short had had her chance. If she wasn't going to give up after all that, she wasn't going to at all. And at least now it was clear the elf had come alone. Distasteful as it was, Holly Short would have to die. At least she would try and make it quick.

She moved like she always did, inhumanly fast and full of confidence, going straight for the gun. She would twist it away and drive into Holly before the elf could react, then it would all be over. Strength like Natalya's couldn't be matched once she had a hold of you.

But, impossibly, Holly was ready. She was already flicking the gun back up, predicting Natalya's choice with ease. She squeezed the trigger and caught Natalya mid-lunge. The blast plucked the Russian girl out of the air and catapulted her from the kitchen back into the entrance hall. There was the sound of a lot of things breaking. Holly briefly wondered who had fared better: Natalya or the house.

Holly followed the trail of destruction into the hallway. Not the house, she thought.

Natalya lay in a crumpled heap next to a wrecked cabinet. She groaned and forced open her eyes. "I'm still conscious," she managed.

"Indeed you are." Holly showed the blaster. "I had Foaly set the parameters on this specially. I didn't want to leave you unconscious. But even you will need a few minutes to shrug off a connection like that."

Holly holstered the fairy blaster and drew the human handgun. She stood over the defeated Russian girl.

Natalya tried to move. She didn't succeed. "I tried to give you the chance to walk away."

"You did."

"I was going to make it quick." The words forced their way through gritted teeth. "Give me the same curtesy."

"No."

"No?"

"No. You see, you were right. I didn't know what I planned to do here, not really. Not until now."

Holly raised the gun. A shot rang out and Natalya screamed. Then another. Slowly, the Russian girl looked down in horror at the bloody mess where one of her legs had been a moment before. A few blue-black sparks were trying to heal the damage, but they were sluggish and already fading. It would be a good few minutes before Natalya's magic was really back online – Holly's modified blaster had seen to that.

Natalya whimpered. "Please…"

"I'm not going to kill you," said Holly. "But I am going to make something very, very clear. I'm going to keep an ear out, and if I ever hear of anything that sounds remotely like you, I will come back, and I will kill you. So remember today. Remember how I found you. Remember how I beat you. Remember this pain. And never, ever hurt another person, ever again. Are we clear?"

Natalya's features were haunted by the pain from her leg. It took her a moment to force out a response. "Crystal."

Holly nodded, a weight lifted from her shoulders. "Good. In that case, I think you and I are finally even."

Holly left the broken Russian girl where she was, collapsed in the hallway, and went outside. Cold clawed at her cheeks, but she flicked up her helmet's visor and let her suit's internal heating do the rest.

It occurred to her that she didn't know how she felt. She glanced back at the cottage. It wasn't what she had expected. It was simply unimpressive. Just that. It wasn't grim or rundown, and it wasn't homely or well-kept. It lacked all of the grandeur that she had come to associate with Natalya. She couldn't shake the odd feeling that she had introduced herself to a part of Natalya's life to which she had no right.

I don't want to stay here, she realised.

Holly hit the ignition for her suit's wings and climbed a few hundred metres into the air, settling into invisibility as she did so. She remembered the sound of Natalya whimpering, a sound she had longed to hear for ten months, and found that it didn't bring her any joy at all. Already she regretted putting the second bullet in the Russian girl's leg. One shot would have humbled her. There was no excuse for the second.

She looked down again at the cottage. Deep down, she knew that whether she was proud of what had taken place there or not, she had needed to come here. Needed to see. Needed to get one over Natalya, at least once. Now it was done, and she was free. For the first time in so long, she was free of everything that had plagued her. Free of Opal, free of Amber, and now, finally, free of Natalya. The weight was finally gone from her shoulders.

Well, she realised, almost gone.

After everything, a part of her couldn't help but have a degree of grudging respect for Natalya. Because even defeated, the Russian girl hadn't just let Holly go, not without a parting gift. She had given Holly an apology to pass onto Artemis, an apology that she had known the elf would feel honour bound to deliver.

And of course, the only way for Holly to deliver it was to admit to Artemis that she had lied to him for that last ten months.

Natalya's words echoed in her head. You can lie for a while. But eventually someone has to pay the debt. Now, thanks to her, Holly had little choice to pay her debt. A final penalty.

Or perhaps an opportunity. An opportunity to wipe her slate clean and lift the last of the weight from her shoulders.

What have you given me, Natalya? she asked herself. A gift, or a punishment?

Holly realised that it was up to her to decide.

A gift, she decided.

And then;

Thank you.

A/N: The opportunity to tell the truth is always a gift if you allow it to be. And it is always worth being grateful for.

Preaching aside, I hope you enjoyed this epilogue. I've had it done for a while and was in two minds about uploading it, but in the end, I like it. It's a little different, I know, but the contrast is intentional. And though I didn't know what Holly was going to do until I got there, this ending just felt so natural when I arrived. I can't imagine it ending another way now.

Thanks again for everything. You're all amazing.

-Kio