Just wanted to say hi to those who are reading this. I'm really glad you've been reading ;)

And a shoutout to the guild. Gotta love UWS =]

Aradar

Book Two, Part Two

A week passed by. We never mentioned the suspension, but it was still in effect. Seven days I was stuck hurling throwing daggers, dual wielding against Aradar, wandering the streets at night…

Day seven, I awoke to red banners and flags that streamed throughout the main square. The entirety of Stormwind was outfitted similarly. When Aradar saw me gaping out the window, he chuckled. "It's the feast of Kings. Did you forget?"

"I didn't know," I commented. Of course, I had heard the chatter around the city. The buzzing around Stormwind had intensified over the past few days. It should've been a giveaway, but I was still holding a grudge against my apparent punishment. "What's it for?"

"It's the king's birthday today," Aradar commented. "We celebrate it every year with a festival. Lasts from sunup to sundown."

My lips pursed in perplexity. "But the king…"

"Is absent. It's true," he sighed, "but we celebrate nonetheless. Gives the people a sense of hope."

A sense. I sniffed my disapproval.

"They'll be decorating the next couple of days. The festival's the eighteenth."

Three days of agony. How lovely. What was the point in celebration when I personally had nothing to celebrate?

A knock at our door startled me out of my ruse. Aradar answered it quickly, and the hushed but intense voice behind me turned my attention. A man at the door was whispering intent instructions to my teacher, whom turned to me when the messenger was finished. "It's Officer Jared. He's requesting our presence once more."

I wet my lips, nodding. Relief washed through my body, but then I pondered. What if it wasn't good news?

Good news or not, we were on the way. How convenient that Aradar only lived a good minute away from SI:7.

Once we were inside, I turned towards the usual route up the staircase, but Aradar grabbed hold of my shoulder. "This meeting is in the hall. Follow." I did so, my pace behind Aradar too quick—more than once I almost tripped over my teacher's feet.

We went down, through tight staircases that chilled my spine. Perhaps it was the cold emanating from below.

Or the sense of fear.

More twists and turns, probably meant to confuse the hell out of amateur recruits like me. Finally, Officer Jared, flanked by his two cronies, pushed the group of us through a pair of grand, heavy doors.

I gulped as we entered. It was literally a hall. The room stretched lengthwise, a large and long table in the middle of it. At least fifteen men were seated, expecting an arrival.

Expecting me.

"Gentlemen," announced Jared.

I was frozen in place. Why? Whywhywhy…?

I nearly turned around, ready to stalk out of the room before I faced so many people. Why should I suffer this for something I hadn't been found guilty of?

Aradar held my shoulders, as if he read my intentions. "You did nothing wrong. You have nothing to fear."

Rogues were supposed to be unfeeling, calculating beings. So why was he so astonishingly good at reading me?

I was practically pushed through the room, eyes on my little frame as Aradar lead me to an empty seat. Everyone else took their rightful places to assemble the Knights of the Rectangular-ish Table.

Jared wasn't at the head of the table, as I had imagined him to be. Which meant that this was bigger than I had imagined, more complicated…

I scanned the room. Zen was here, as well as his buddy he had run into me with. Frowning, I leered at the head of the table. Was this an officer meeting?

Another man, who was quiet, sat at the head of the table. He looked middle-aged, but his eyes revealed a certain wisdom. It seemed to be a trend in the rogue industry—would I someday seem that wise? That insightful?

He had long black hair, but it was tied neatly behind his neck. Patiently, he waited as we quieted down.

Jared was the first to speak. He stood regally. "Grace," he began. I shut my eyes, disheartened. So this was about me. "You're here because I found it fit you learn of the events following your…temporary dismissal. We…have uncovered new information that has proved you innocent after all."

I couldn't help from grinning. I was part of the ranks again, right? So why did everyone look so solemn…?

He seemed to address everyone now. "Everyone has heard of the occurrence at Corporal Scarlett's house. Some of our covert teams have recovered fragile information. We've learned that it was not one of our own who rummaged through the Scarlett estate. Turns out the Defias issued a search as well, looking for clues to the Corporal's allegiance." He grinned. "They just weren't as…inconspicuous."

Now the man at the head, the one I figured most important, stood. Jared politely took his place amongst the rest.

"We believe the Defias are going to use the festival as a ruse, to get some supplies smuggled out of the city."

"Corporal Scarlett's in charge of ammunition supply, as well as weapon conservation," Aradar pointed out to me in a whisper. So he had easy access to the goods the rebels may need.

"There will be a messenger boy, a spy for the Defias, who will be sent for Scarlett when the smugglers are ready for Scarlett's goods. They're meeting right in the middle of the festival mess, near the fountain."

So apparently the Corporal had no idea that the Defias were just as keen to his loyalties as Stormwind. Whose side was he on, anyway?

"If Corporal Scarlett goes through with this plot," the man began, "he will be put to death for treason. But if we can prevent this from happening, without causing hysteria within our walls, Stormwind will be better off. And if we can catch him in the act of treason and hold of the Defias," the head man leered. "It's even better. No matter what, the Defias can not get a hold of those goods. Millions of gold would be put to waste."

Millions. This was big. I suddenly felt even more awkward than I had been feeling. Why was I here, again?

Oh, to get my record cleared. That's right.

Why was I still here?

"The first step is to stop that messenger. He has to reach Corporal Scarlett at the fountain in order to verify both the location of the Defias smugglers and the goods they plan to take. But he can't go any further—the messenger cannot send for those goods, or the Defias will infiltrate completely. Knowing Scarlett, he'll return to the sight the goods are and try to monitor the transaction. We'll catch him there. The second move is to break up their ranks—the diversion helps to keep them concentrated in one area, before they have an opportunity to spring into action. They'll be numerous, and they'll blend in very well within the festival. It'll be hard to keep the rebels contained if the diversion is weak. The third, to arrest Scarlett for treason."

My mind momentarily flashed to his family. What of them? Would they share the same fate? Be given mercy? Be forced off the continent all together?

"Once Scarlett reveals the location of the supplies, three rogues will swiftly act to defend them," Officer Jared announced, still seated. "Hopefully they beat Scarlett there, so he has a nice surprise awaiting him called an arrest. Zen, John, and Hovin, that's your duty. Others have been appointed to guard the ports, looking for the suspicious activity. We take down their post as soon as possible."

"The diversion." The head honcho panned over our not-so-round table. "We need a good enough diversion that'll hold them."

"Staged fight?" someone offered. No reaction.

"We have to be careful. Their messenger will be cautious as is, and we can't have chaos erupt within the center square," the chief commented. "Something uncanny, untraditional…"

Zen locked eyes on me, clearly concentrating. I almost looked away, face severely flushed scarlet, but his eyes were too intense to look away from. Was his process of thought that extreme? His expression was amazingly still.

"Grace."

Zen's mouth moved, but it took me a moment to register that a. he was talking and b. he was addressing me.

"Grace can be the distraction."

Silence fell. Okay, so he wasn't addressing me. He was talking about me. That was so much better.

The silence was spread across the entire room. Seventeen pairs of eyes landed on me. Zen turned, addressing his superior. "It's perfect. She's female. They won't expect a female to partake in this. Especially if she's not dressed the part of a rogue."

"She's inexperienced," Aradar spoke up.

I pouted. I thought he was the one who had the confidence in me. What happened to 'master of subtlety?'

"She has the power of sex-appeal," Zen pushed. Aradar's eyes landed on Zen, and for a moment they exchanged ardent glances. They weren't being bitter to each other, but they acknowledged that each had their own opinion.

Like they'd done this before; argued before.

The chief nearly choked. "Sex appeal?" he repeated, a perfect eyebrow raised. "I don't recall 'sex appeal' being in the rogue handbook, Zen."

That's because there is no handbook, I wanted to grumble.

"No, but it's definitely a plus." Zen's slight grin flashed towards me, and I had to clench my eyebrows in confusion. "It's perfect. Beautiful, harmless, female enjoying the festival. She just happens to be a rogue for the Alliance."

Zen thought I was capable. It didn't seem that difficult of a task—but it definitely wasn't in the curriculum of my rogue trainee assignments. Simple task, maybe—but a fallout would result in a slippery slope. One wrong move, a failed distraction, and the entire siege fails.

More silence. "They definitely wouldn't expect it," the chief mentioned under his breath. Finally, he looked to Aradar. "Is she prepared?"

For some reason, I grew agitated. It was a constant thing, these people turning to Aradar to ask of my abilities. Who knew better than me?

I stood up. "I'm prepared," I answered for myself. I felt quite a few of the bodies stiffen in response. It must not have been every day a non-ranked rogue voiced her own thoughts. The chief wasn't shocked, though. He looked upon me, mouth tight as if he was concentrating.

"Can you prove it?" he asked, perplexed.

My hands felt sweaty as they sat on the table below me. "What do you need? A signature in my blood, my first born, my soul?" His expression didn't change, but I saw a slight glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "You need a viable distraction. A female. You can't get any girl off the street. I've been trained for stressful situations, and I work under pressure. I'm prepared."

From across the table, Zen's gaze met mine. I tried not to look scared, but it must have been obvious on my face. Although he didn't smile, a slight nod illustrated his approval, his encouragement.

"Isn't it a bit dangerous," the chief managed to muster as he smiled, "after your first unorthodox attempt at a mission?"

"Officer Jared acknowledged I'm clean. Innocent," I reminded him.

He paused, thinking, until a sigh finally escaped his lips. "Fine. Grace can distract the messenger. But I want those three rogue's flogged at her side, ready to act should anything go awry." That I could handle—I was still a novice, after all.

That meant Zen would be near me. I felt even more at ease. The meeting was adjourned, and the chief turned to Zen. "I expect you, Corporal Zen, to invest in what time you have breaking down the plans for Grace. Keep in mind she has never done anything like this before."

"Of course, sir," Zen replied with a bow. Everyone began to file out of the room. Perhaps they were just as excited as me to get out of the stuffy darkness.

Once Aradar and I paced a good distance away from SI:7, I sighed. "Who was that?"

He seemed to know what I was talking about. "Major General Rillhelm. Oversees a good portion of our ranks."

Probably the entire sector of SI:7, I mused.

"I would have said yes, you know," Aradar began. I looked over at him, trying not to look taken aback. "If you wanted so bad to be a part, I would have said you were prepared."

"Even if I wasn't?" I asked, a bit sour. "You disagreed with Zen."

"I didn't want to put you in danger," he defended. "But if you're truly ready, and you feel the need to help, then so be it. You know yourself better than anyone else."

We walked along in silence, the people of Stormwind chattering enough for the both of us. A giggle erupted from my throat. "So if this was a trainee mission, what color would it be?"

Aradar suppressed a chuckle. "We'd have to make a new category. We'll call it 'What have we gotten ourselves into?' black."

It wasn't even noon yet. We went into Aradar's little house, and I was content with simply sitting around.

Until Zen knocked on the door. It was well after lunch, but I still hadn't wound down completely. He insisted on starting as soon as possible, so I had the plan nailed by the time the festival began.

We sat down at Aradar's table, Aradar included. I didn't notice at the meeting that Zen was dressed…casually. Black pants, a white shirt, black jacket. "You look…unnatural," I commented, looking over Zen. He quirked an eyebrow. "Normal," I added. Zen smirked as he tugged at the collar of the black overcoat.

But he did seem…more human. More relatable. Like he had feelings, a life. Contrary to the standards of a rogue.

"Your goal is to keep the messenger at bay," Zen began. I sighed. Was this going to be a hodgepodge of facts I was already attuned to? "You start with us, so we can get a good radar on him. Scarlett's going to reveal the location…"

He repeated the route plan at least a half a dozen times. I would have dreams of our route.

The day came fast. I was terribly nervous, the pressure of success looming over me. Too many people were involved for me to screw anything up.

SI:7 actually invested in a festive dress for me. I was fitted for it and everything.

Yeah. My first 'unofficial' participation with SI:7, and I get a dress. It made no sense to me, either. It was a golden orange, with red accents. A beautiful crown of flowers sat on my neatly curled head of hair.

"Are you okay?" Zen mumbled with muffled concern.

Muffled because I had decided to lock myself in one of the training rooms of SI:7 until we parted for our position. Zen was trying to coax me out before necessary.

"I just think a mage could handle this better."

"You're not cracking under pressure, are you?" Zen asked with a tint of amusement. Even though I couldn't see him I could still imagine his demure. Arms folded. Back leaning against the door frame. Smirk painting his thin, alluring lips. It made me growl in irritation just thinking of it.

"I'm not talking about the mission!" I seethed, yanking the deadbolt off and puling open the door. "I meant this dress!"

It was far too nice. I was accustomed to plain cotton farmer's dresses at my home, and when I began training I had gotten used to boy's pants and boots.

Now, I was wearing a piece completely out of my comfort zone. My gaze fell to the floor instinctually, but after I hadn't received an immediate response from Zen, I stole a glimpse at his face.

I would have giggled if I wasn't so distraught. His lips puckered like he was solving a mathematical equation. "It is that bad, isn't it?" I asked, frowning. "This is your doing. You should have…I don't know…found another decoy, because I can't function in this thing without looking ridiculous!"

"If we wanted a decoy, then we would have selected a mage," Zen muttered.

I smoothed out any wrinkles visible. "It's going to get ruined," I surmised mournfully. All that hard work…

"As long as you keep your cover, it shouldn't," Zen commented. Sighing, I nodded my affirmation that he was probably right. "It's nearly noon." The rogue glanced emotionlessly out of the window, the sun's beams streaking across his face. His eyes glistened like emeralds. "Are you ready? The others are probably ready by now."

"I suppose," I answered, grabbing my basket full of red and white roses.

"Have some confidence," he said, patting my shoulder as we strode out of SI:7 towards the main square.

"Easy for you to say," I muttered, nervously fiddling with the weave in the basket handle.

Zen stopped abruptly. "You're prepared. You're armed. The rogues are stationed. I'm going to be watching…" I sighed. "Even if you stumble on every word you say, the boy'll be smitten." I blushed.

Snapping my eyes shut, I inhaled. When I opened my eyes, Zen was still looking at me expectedly. "Remember. Keep the messenger at bay from reaching the rest of them. And if you can, delay Scarlett as well. Good luck," he whispered. Zen gracefully walked away, figure lost in the sea of people.

The crowd was starting to enlarge. At noon there would be a fanfare, a proclamation, and a speech. Followed by dancing, drinking, games, and drinking. I prayed I would be capable of properly stalling my prey.

It was a tad awkward. Almost mindlessly I passed out the roses, a cheery smile tacked to my face. The entire time my eyes shifted between my three guardians—Zen especially. Their faces I had memorized.

Finally, one of them spotted the messenger. I had no doubt, with the way Corporal Zen locked his eyes first on me, then on the man.

He was burly—probably to discourage anyone from approaching him. My mind kicked into overdrive. Zen and the others were watching, waiting for the cue. Others were attempting to isolate the crew of Defias nestled somewhere in our very harbor.

And then there was me. I had to hold everyone in place and keep everything organized. All with a bat of the eyelashes.

The man approached Corporal Scarlett without a hint of hesitation. The Alliance officer was shaking hands, making light conversation with those around him. But his eyes were deceiving—they showed fear. For a moment I actually hesitated. Something was amiss. I stole a glance at Zen, who seemed to not notice. Of all people, Zen should have been able to feel that something wasn't right…

"Scarlett, old friend," the messenger began with a voice that matched his physique. His hand smothered Corporal Scarlett's, whose face paled.

With so much noise, it was hard to hear the conversation. I concentrated, mechanically passing out flowers while I turned my ear toward the pair.

"I know you have some…important information to tell me. Regarding the location of my…assets…"

A high pitched shriek erupted from above me, and for a deft moment my adrenaline had convinced me that something had gone wrong. That chaos had erupted, whether from an error on my part or another area of the mission.

But the whistle grew faint, eventually halting with an intense boom. I glanced up, breath regulating as a blue firework fanned the sky.

"Please don't do this," I caught through the eruption of 'oohs' and 'ahs.' "No good will come of it!" Corporal Scarlett said.

"If you want your wife and child to continue to live prosperously, I suggest you submit and give me the location."

My eyes widened in horror, and I was hoping people mistook it for the awe of fireworks. Corporal Scarlett had been bribed? With the lives of his family?

I didn't even steal a glance at Zen. Not when it was difficult enough to listen in. "Scarlett." His voice was getting heavy with anger. "The location."

"The-they're in an abandoned warehouse," Scarlett stuttered, "321 North Shore…on the edge of the harbor. Please, sir," his eyes were glossy, and I know he was trying not to break his façade in fear of revealing the situation to the public. "My family…I can't…"

"321, eh?" With a flick of his wrist, the man called over another man I assumed to be a part of the Defias rebels. He was smaller, paler…less experienced. To the boy, the messenger repeated the address. With the new information, the boy scurried my way.

"What do you say me and you…take a bit of a walk?" the messenger's hand clamped on Scarlett's shoulder, forcefully escorting him the opposite way of the address.

Quickly, I looked behind me, and noticed that one of the rogues meant to cover me had apprehended the boy. Zen tried to tear through the crowd, seemingly reaching for me, but the massive crowd was thick. He was getting pushed back too fast to get to the commotion. I looked back towards the other, bigger man, who was now carrying Scarlett off.

He was going to kill the corporal.

Technically, I may not be obeying orders. He wasn't a messenger any longer. But now, I had the duty to protect Scarlett as long as possible.

I heard Zen bark my name as I broke into a gait, but I ignored it. Come up with a plan, Grace…and fast…

The couple turned a corner, into a more secluded alleyway. I held my breath as I cut the turn way too enthusiastically.

"Corporal Scarlett!" I screamed, attempting to sound as happy and cheerful as possible. Forget that my nerves were causing my hand to shake as I held it above me in a wave. "Corporal Scarlett!"

I finally got the attention of both of them, and the Defias messenger turned around to begrudgingly figure out who was calling for his victim. "Corporal!" I exclaimed as I finally arrived at the two. "I haven't seen your daughter, Marie, in awhile. Is she here?" I asked. Bide time…had to bide some time.

"Uh…" His face was still pale, but I pretended not to notice. "I'm afraid not. She didn't…feel well."

My face fell. "Oh, that's too bad…we were supposed to…knit some…scarves up for the winter time!" I made up. "Can't have enough when it gets cold, you know?"

The other man growled in irritation so that I could hear. "Oh! I'm sorry, Corporal, I haven't been introduced to your friend!"

"Well, he's…"

"Would you like a flower?" I asked, holding out a white rose for the Defias to take. The flower's silky petals waved with the movement, making my shaking hands less noticeable. "The rose is such a beautiful flower, don't you think? White is meant to symbolize reverence and honor…"

Oh, please don't let him catch the irony leaking through my words…

He snuffed rudely, not even bothering to glance at the rose. His eyes did, however, land on me. "You're a pest," he stated.

I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth in a mocking look of surprise. "Well, you're rude!" I countered.

"Girl." His patience was thin to begin with, apparently. He unsheathed a dagger, its blade jagged and twisted. "I won't warn you again. Leave us be."

"Wh-what are you planning to do with that?" I asked, wide eyes on the dagger. I didn't have to fake the stutter in my voice—that was still present due to nerves.

His massive body was a bit intimidating, but it didn't deter me very much. The man's lips perked into an eerie, sinister smile as the knife he held glistened in the sunlight.

Sweat found its place on my palms. I could feel his aura, almost imagine myself in his head. What the traitor in front of me was thinking about doing to me.

I dropped my basket, the roses sprawling along the cobblestone road. Blood red petals contrasted with its pure white counterparts…

"I'll give you 'til the count of three, girl, to run for it and never look back."

I wasn't scared. I trained for this moment.

"One."

No running. The muscles in my fingers twitched, a display of my instinctual anticipation.

"Two." His smile widened, eyes darkened. The man took a step further towards me, his hostage still within his iron grip. Scarlett's eyes were downcast in hopelessness. I grew more furious. Did he really think it was over?

"Three."

The opponent lunged the same moment my hands found my daggers. They molded to my body so comfortably now.

Both of my blades parried his slice with a cold shriek of metal on metal. It was a dissonant melody I had longed to hear—it heightened my awareness. His dagger, now unexpectedly outnumbered, remained trapped in the jaws of my two daggers.

Shock and befuddlement seized his face. "What?" he howled in disbelief.

I could guess it was pretty impractical. A little girl in a dress whipping out a couple of lethal weapons…and being able to use them.

I had the leverage over him. Only one hand of his was capable of combat. The other still had a hold of Scarlett. I waited for the man to make a decision. Finally, he released the officer, opting to draw a sword.

"Run," I barked at Scarlett. I doubted the Alliance officer was in a fair enough state to fight. And besides, his safety was my primary goal at the moment.

Quickly, I surveyed my surroundings. Weren't there more rogues, ready to act should something unexpected occur?

While I finished that thought, my adversary sliced at me with his sword. I barely dodged the longer blade. "You don't have to do this," I mentioned, anger seeping through my façade. My response was a growl of agitation.

He released attack after attack, keeping me on the defensive. At some point we had fought our way further down the alley—shadows began to consume the bright concentration of light.

It whirled by so quickly. I wasn't thinking anymore, just acting, reacting. Letting my fury for anything hell-bent on defiling my home be unleashed.

My senses were delicate. A new aura arrived within my perception, filling me with ease when I identified Zen's presence.

But where? For a moment I took my eyes off the Defias bandit, searching fruitlessly for Zen.

I lost my train of thought long enough for the man before me to get a good hit in. The hilt of his sword smacked against my jaw. I must have bit my lip or ripped open my gum, because the distinct metallic taste infiltrated my senses. Slightly startled, I reeled back a few steps.

Apparently he liked to play with his prey before finishing the job. He grinned his satisfaction when I spat an accumulation of blood onto the ground. I was half expecting a tooth or two to clink on the hard surface, skittering along the porous surface like gambling dice.

I took a defensive stance once again, but before I could plan an offensive move, I was surrounded.

Five rogues. They were much more intimidating. Zen was in the center, his cool expression only broken by a fierce pair of green eyes. I almost wished his body reflected that intensity, because at the moment I couldn't tear my eyes away from his.

The burly enemy was highly outnumbered and out-talented. His eyes deadened in realization.

It wasn't difficult for the five of them to apprehend the Defias soldier. He was carried off, probably to a jail of sorts I would rather not see.

I returned to SI:7 and waited for someone familiar to walk through the door, my hands fidgeting while I thought about the entire mission. Had everything gone according to plan? Was everyone okay?

Zen arrived. He walked in, caught the sight of me sitting erect in the chair near the fireplace, and calmly took the seat across from me.

Until he had arrived, I hadn't considered my actions. So I had kind of…sort of…disregarded my primary instructions. I hadn't pursued the true messenger, I went after Scarlett's captor instead.

But the entire mission had shifted when it was revealed that Scarlett was merely a pawn being used.

I perked up. "Did it go okay?" I asked a bit too excitedly. "Is everyone okay?"

Zen sat there, chin resting regally atop his hand. His finger tapped his cheek as he scrutinized me.

Was he ever going to learn that he couldn't read me like everyone else?

I was still in my pretty orange dress. It made the chat with Zen that much more awkward. "It was a huge success," Zen finally answered. "Despite the…altercations in the entire structure, we pulled through. How did you do?" he asked nonchalantly. It was a blasé question, as if he was simply mentioning the décor at the festival.

"You tell me," I commented.

"Were you scared?" he asked.

I hesitated. "Not scared. Nervous. Once the entire mission flipped itself over its head…my plan of action changed." My eyes slipped to the floor, afraid of what Zen would say. "And I apologize if I breeched any commands. I was simply running on my intuition."

He paused, allowing me to wallow in my guilt, until he finally pursed his lips in confusion. "I'm actually a tad perplexed…at one of the things I noticed…"

I looked up, also confused. "Hn?"

"You got distracted," he mentioned, eyes delving into mine. "He hit you because you weren't focused."

"I-" I clipped my mouth shut, thinking I could possibly say a bit too much. But I sighed, knowing Zen would get to the bottom of whatever I was hiding in time anyway. "I felt you arrive. Your aura."

Zen smirked. "I didn't realize I had that affect on your judgment."

I blanched. "It's not like I can control that!" I defended. "I can't just shut your aura off, you know!"

The man in front of me chuckled, his eyes lit in entertainment. "You should have sensed the others, as well. They were right behind me."

"After I sensed you, I got thumped in the face, remember?" I said. "I wasn't very concerned with auras after that."

"Or maybe you have…selective senses?" Zen asked, eyebrows perked. "Only sensing the auras you wish to sense?"

I scoffed. "Count on you to turn a testy mission for me into some weird sort of infatuation with you."

Another chuckle as Zen relaxed, his back finally slouching into the comfortable chair. "Well, whatever the reason for the slip, you have to work on it. In true battles, there will be a million and one distractions on all of your sides. You have to take it all in, know exactly what's going on…and not overreact when something tempts you."

"I wasn't tempted by anything," I grumbled, folding my arms.

So much for constructive criticism.

"One more thing," Zen offered. "Next time you decide to save the day, make sure you have a bit of backup. You didn't go in very rogue-like, so it was lucky that he wasn't very experienced."

"I couldn't go in rogue-like!" I defended. "Scarlett was in danger! I couldn't stealth through the alley in this!" I articulated, gathering a bunch of my dress' fabric in my hands.

I received another light-hearted chuckle in response.

From then on, green missions were a breeze. Aradar continued to give me important lessons, after mission after mission of lock picking, pick pocketing, sneaking in, sneaking out, scoping, observing…

I was definitely getting faster, nimbler. I knew I was anything but indestructible though—I had a fair share of injuries and close encounters.

Dennis returned the day after I began my yellow training missions. He came to my place with Aradar, and I was all but utterly shocked when he was on the other side of the door. "Den…?" I asked, unsure. But there he was, beaming smile and glittering eyes. I exploded into his arms. "I'm so glad you're back!" I screamed. Townsfolk outside gave curious glances, but I paid no heed.

"Miss me?" he cooed. I realized just how much I had—his soothing voice, comfortable arms…everything that had kept me going.

"More than you can possibly imagine," I answered. Pulling away, I gave a good look into Dennis' eyes. "How long do I get to keep you?" I asked.

"As long as I live," Dennis replied with a crooked grin. "But I leave in three days."

It wasn't fair that he got to venture out of the gates, seeing new things and always facing dangerous tasks. I was cooped up in Stormwind, constantly reminded of moments with Dennis and Lucas.

And the following week I got my wish for more danger.

It started routine enough. I woke up and immediately made my way to Officer Jared's little niche. He greeted me with pondering eyes. Then his lids minimized into a look I knew meant he was suffering a dilemma. Finally, he sighed, grabbing a yellow-tied scroll that was laying on his desk. I eyed the parchment curiously as he slid it toward me. "This task…it more difficult than normal, Grace. I think you're the best bet I have on this one."

The off-handed compliment caught me by surprise, and my eyes widened because of it. "Oh?" was all I could muster.

"The only requirement I have is that you accept the help of other rogues," he ordered with forced calm. "It's…a hit on someone."

"A…hit…?" I stammered, drawing in closer.

"An assassination." His eyes locked onto mine, and I couldn't help but feel oddly proud and important. I was the one entrusted on this task. "Now, given, the man shouldn't be considered dangerous—combatively, at least…he's of other importance to the enemy."

"The enemy?" I was repeating things again. It was a comfort zone of mine when I grew confused. A fallback.

"There are rumors of an army rising up against our forces," he explained obtusely.

"The Defias?" I asked.

"No. Bigger." He breathed, trying to compose himself. "This man has great skill in many different trees. Engineering, herbalism…he's a weapon they've gotten a hold of. I'm not sure how much they think we know, and he has been fairly unguarded in the past. It's a yellow mission, but," he wetted his lips, "you're the only trainee I have enough confidence in to give this to. Needless to say, others will attend. The squad will meet you in SI:7 at sundown."

The target had been hiding away in Darkshire, too close to Stormwind for comfort. These enemies we had seemed to be encroaching upon our lands. We were catching on too late to be able to defend?

While the orange colors of the sun began to fade through the window panes of SI:7, I tried not to think about my mission. I had to kill a man.

Kill. Murder. The first time I had to spill blood for the good of the Alliance. Was I capable?

Only time would tell.

Aradar was going to come, naturally. He and I had arrived nearly an hour ago. The others were now creeping in. Many familiar faces greeted me, but none were Zen. I felt a bit disappointed at that. I had learned to trust Zen fairly well, sense him better than most…

We traveled by horse. Six horses for six rogues, hidden under the veil of darkness. I rode next to Aradar, who kept a steady gaze on the tree line ahead of us. Before we had even arrived at SI:7 previously, he chided over and over again to me that I didn't necessarily have to be the one to commit the act. If I couldn't get a good spot onto him, others could kill. I understood, but at the same time, I wanted to complete this mission. Every aspect of it.

I wanted to test myself.

We left the horses in the heart of Darkshire. The target was in walking distance, according to directions. Hiding in one of the many catacombs of the cemetery.

When we arrived, it was quiet. We descended into the catacombs, the cool air permeated with the stench of the dead. A fleet of rogues were now cloaked in darkness, a python ready to strike.

The man was in a room farther down the hallway. The stone walls were lined with a few books he must have thought to take while he was hiding. He was facing away, his back to us, and a desk sat before him. It was strewn with aged, yellowed parchment. A few beakers and other knickknacks were sitting before him.

The target's breath was shallow, on the border of panicky. It came out as short puffs through his nose, as if he was a bull preparing to strike. His shoulders shook, body hunched over towards whatever he was doing. White hair rested atop his head, like unkempt grass. It stood up in disarray. His quivering hadn't stopped as we slid, invisible, closer to him. Was he afraid of death? Was he anticipating it already?

After getting a nod from Aradar, I took a step closer all alone. My dagger hadn't been drawn yet, but my fingers were itching for that familiar feeling. I had advanced soundlessly, as gracefully as possible—so I was caught off guard when the man before me chuckled out loud.

"Have you come to k-kill me?" he cackled, back still to us. Shocked, I felt my spine straighten. How? "Hmm?" Another shallow laugh erupted, sending his puffs of breath to his shoulders. Then he turned, facing us, and I realized he hadn't been shuddering in fear. He was shaking with exhilaration. His eyes were black, but shone with a brightness that left me feeling cold inside. The feeble man in front of me seemed to look right through me. "I have news for you!" he exclaimed, crooked hands in his lap. "You won't succeed! You'll be ripped apart! They'll protect me!"

I stepped back, nearly intimidated. The crazed look in the man's eyes was completely unexpected, and it almost scared me. The mention of a 'they' had my senses crooning outwards—through the hallways, into every corner…

All I felt was darkness. But it was growing more concentrated, growing closer. The same moment I gasped, two things happened. Aradar called my name, in one word commanding me to follow through with my task; and an army of monsters were stalking toward our small battalion, arms flailing as if they had no ligaments or muscle. They crept closer, and I realized that they didn't. Graying skin covered decrepit bones, and growls and gurgles of protest were echoing through the small tunnel.

It sent a stimulus through my body. Before I could think properly, my dagger was out and I had stabbed it solidly into the old man's chest, and he hobbled over, completely taken aback. Crimson cascaded down his brown coat, painting not only him but my hands as well. It felt sickly warm as I watched his eyes widen and dim, face paling. I twisted the blade, a sickening rip illustrating the damage done was irreversible, and the man lurched forward toward me before collapsing lifelessly to the ground.

I had no time to think on my actions. I spun around, still fixated on the chilling snarls resounding around me. Five rogues were still standing, allowing me a small sigh of relief.

But we were blocked in. Once one of them fell, another took its place. About fifteen of them were staggering toward us, hungry for vengeance, blood…

Without a hesitation I joined the ranks next to Aradar, helping him finish off a pair that had tried to sink their teeth into his chest. Before I could utter a word to my teacher, we were both facing two more of the zombie things.

Their faces were indiscernible. Just bones and teeth, with skin present where it hadn't peeled off. I grew horrified at such an atrocity—what were they? Mutants?

We had cleared the twenty or so with minor injuries. One had managed a good bite right on my collar bone, but it hadn't dislodged any skin—the thought of a gaping hole in my shoulder made me shudder more than the blood currently seeping from the teeth marks. Another rogue had claw marks gracing his cheek. One other was suffering from a limp. We would survive.

But another wave came, of the same number. We repeated the process again, staying close together and taking on the group as a whole instead of concentrating on a single target. The floors looked chocolate-covered, but I knew what the deep color really was—it was much more red as it colored our faces, shirts, arms…

Dozens of bodies were now at our feet, ornamented by dismembered limbs and heads. The strong scent of blood was now burning my nostrils.

The second wave was the final attack. Once we had downed all of them, I counted again. Six rogues. I breathed a sigh of relief. At least we hadn't suffered any casualties.

We were doused in blood. Now that I wasn't zoned into combat, my senses were whirling with my surroundings. The concentration of death within the room was stifling; I was holding down a gag reflex.

"Let's get out, and fast," Aradar commanded. "This stench will draw predators…Undead or otherwise."

As we nearly sprinted through the twisted paths and into the open air, my curiosity got the best of me. "Undead? That's what those things are called?"

"Products of the Scourge," Aradar growled, his red-spotted cloak billowing as we traveled to the city for our horses as fast as possible. "An atrocity. Not alive…but not dead."

I was fairly familiar with the Scourge, and I was still determined to get even more details, but I held my tongue. We were in too much of a hurry, too busy, to worry about a history lesson.

The rogue who had been limping was receiving help from two others. We made it to our mounts quicker than I had anticipated. And when we were ready to take off, it was faster than imaginable.

My steed's mane remained airborne as we fled. His feet clipped the dirt paths in quiet staccatos. I felt the liquid on my face, hands, and other parts begin to dry, and a pain was beginning to form around my bite.

Not once did I live in regret about what I had done to that man. I relived it, no doubt. It played over-and-over in my head during that ride, to the point where I questioned my sanity. I thought maybe I was growing sick, sadistic, irreconcilable.

But I was defending my home. I had been asked to act in accordance with my Alliance, and I was honored to help. If I was crazy for defending what I knew to be truth, then so be it.

My first night to spill blood, and it spilled in great quantity.

It was near dawn when we stumbled carefully into SI:7. We were careful to avoid townsfolk, with how appalling we currently looked. Officer Jared, accompanied by who I recognized as other officers from the meeting I attended previously, were waiting up for our return.

We must have looked as bad as I felt. Horrified looks weren't hidden as the six of us arrived in the small welcome center. I barely made out Zen's presence in the crowd.

Aradar was the first to step up. "He was guarded. An entire army of Undead were laying in the catacomb, waiting for an attack. Had there been one less of us, death would have been a consequence."

Shudders of conversation stirred. Subconsciously I placed my hand over my wound, the adrenaline now gone, allowing pain to take control. I grit my teeth. "Undead?" Jared repeated.

"Dozens," Aradar announced. "I'm afraid they are growing more powerful than we have anticipated."

Jared's eyes landed on me, mixed with concern and curiosity. "And our target?"

"Dead," I answered shortly. I was hoping my bangs would hide the discomfort I was beginning to feel as my reddened hand held out my scroll. I left bloody fingerprints on the outside of it when Jared reacquired it. I felt a sudden urge to leave. Let me get out of these sickening clothes…clean and cover this wound…

"We will discuss what has happened here in greater depth in a few hours. You must clean up. Are there any serious injuries?" asked Jared.

They took a count. Most of us only needed stitching or bandaging. They made it a priority to get me to a medic first—apparently the bite near my shoulder was more serious than imagined; the burning sensation spreading through it could have been a hint.

Before they whisked me away, though, I heard Jared sigh. "Times are growing weary, I'm afraid. Trainees like Grace…our gifted ones…they must be taught at an accelerated rate. We must find strength in numbers, but talent as well. Grace must be pushed even harder…"

"Zen." Aradar's eyes locked onto the man in question, who looked over expectantly. "You are closer to the battle experience than I. I'm growing old, dusty. Grace needs a teacher like you."

My mouth fell open. "Aradar!" I exclaimed, still cradling my injury. "You can't do that! You're my teacher! You-"

"Grace," the older man began, a hand held up in peace. "Zen can teach you much more than I am able. Trust in my judgment, child. He learned from the best."

"Take her to get treated," Jared announced, nodding to my bloody form. I was suddenly aware of the sweat that glazed my dirty skin, absorbing the heat of anger I felt at Aradar but only intensifying the twinge at my neck.

"Aradar!" I growled again, even attempting to fight through the arms pulling me up a thick set of stairs in the corner of SI:7. "This attack wasn't in your control! Don't feel obligated to push me away because of-"

"You'll learn better this way!" he called. Perhaps he said something else—but I was already being escorted through an unfamiliar hallway.