As Goblin Slayer dismounted from the saddle of D'Arce's warhorse, his feet sank into the thick, unkempt grass growing in the courtyard of the fortress— United Front's fortress.
The stone walls surrounding him, weathered and eroded by time, were just as he remembered them from the day he had first cleared the place of bandits. His fingers reached up, slowly unlatching his helmet. He pulled it free, and held it underneath his left arm as he took in the sight before him.
The fortress, now occupied with a sizable population, stood with the same imposing strength that had drawn him to it a week ago. His gaze drifted to the highest tower that rose high above the entire structure— reaching toward the blue, partially cloudy sky.
The sight tugged at something deep within him. He remembered, vividly, the moment he had stood by the window overlooking the Evergreen Forest he was now staring up at— his eyes once fixed on the distant Iron Flower Mountains.
That had been the day he made the decision to travel to Crossbell.
A shaky breath escaped him as the memories overwhelmed him. His eyes misted over, and for a moment, he was lost in the torrent of emotions— nostalgia, pride, and a bittersweet sense of growth. He had traveled far, endured so much, and yet, here he was, standing where it all began.
The friends he had made, the hardships he had faced, and the pain he had been forced to confront— all of it weighed on him, but in the way that made him feel stronger.
With a soft smile, his eyelids half-closed, he turned to face the courtyard. His heart swelled with pride as he watched, one by one, the horse-drawn cargo wagons roll through the raised iron gate. Each wagon was carefully pulled to an unloading area, where the logistics team of Delrivkat, a group of hill goblins, worked with surprising efficiency.
Dressed in makeshift hard hats and safety vests, they unloaded the cargo with care— sorting it into organized sections. The old goblin superintendent, carrying a clipboard and checklist, barked orders to his foremen— guiding them as they transported the supplies into the fortress halls.
Goblin Slayer wiped his eyes with the back of his forearm, watching as Lady Eleanor, Juliet, and Arc Mage led those who worked at the Opulence of Avalon into the fortress. They carried brooms, mops, boxes of rags, and kettles for hot water, their hands full as they worked to clear out the debris left within the halls. Arc Mage, ever the perfectionist, conjured light orbs that floated alongside each worker and hill goblin— illuminating their tasks and helping the operation move forward with ease.
In the courtyard, Remi busied herself with unloading their gifts from one of the wagons. Nearby, High Elf Archer, Dwarf Shaman, and Lizard Priest pulled their own shopping bags from another wagon— chatting contentedly among themselves. Their relaxed expressions were a testament to the bond they had forged on their journey together, and the shared trials that had brought them closer as comrades and friends.
The teenager let out a contented sigh— the warmth of the moment filling him with a sense of peace. He shifted slightly, glancing over his shoulder to see D'Arce standing behind him— towering over him by at least two feet. Her gray eyes were focused on the wagons and the busy activity of the logistics team, but as Goblin Slayer turned to face her, she shifted her gaze down to him with a faint— barely noticeable smirk.
"I'm still trying to wrap my head around it," she admitted, her voice quiet but thoughtful. "How a fifteen-year-old could make all of this possible."
Her expression grew more serious as she paused, her eyes flickering with a memory that seemed to pain her. "When I first interviewed you, before your arrest..." She grimaced slightly— flashing him an apologetic look before continuing. "I thought you were just a fool, hell-bent on some ill-conceived revenge."
Goblin Slayer smiled softly, with a glimmer of cathartic amusement in his eyes. "That's because I was," he admitted without hesitation. His voice was calm, yet there was an undeniable weight to his words.
"When you met me... I was someone in need of help." He paused, reflecting for a moment, his gaze distant as he remembered the person he had been. "I'd been lying to myself for so long, the line between reality and fiction blurred. All I knew was that I was angry... And that anger was something I could take out on goblins. They needed to be vanquished, and that was enough for me to pretend that the past happened differently."
D'Arce's expression softened— her empathy apparent as she nodded in understanding. "It's… Easier to blame the things we already see as evil," she said, echoing his words. "Than it is to accept those wrongs as our own, and not theirs."
He nodded, his eyes steady on hers. "Exactly." He paused, letting the thought settle before continuing. "When I was at my lowest, I was taught to hurt others, instead of allowing myself to be hurt, but… Even so," Goblin Slayer trailed off, before taking in a deep breath and continuing, "Spilled blood cannot wash away the nightmares of our past, and nor can the sands of time smooth out those sorts of god-awful memories… It's up to us to take matters into our hands… And that starts with accepting the truth of who we are— what we are."
D'Arce was silent for a moment— a thoughtful expression crossing her face as she processed his words. Her brow furrowed slightly, and Goblin Slayer noticed the shift in her demeanor. Concerned, he tilted his head and asked, "Are you… Alright?"
She hesitated, then shook her head— though the motion seemed reluctant. "I've… I've hurt a lot of people," she admitted, with her voice quieter now, and tinged with guilt. "People I thought were evil. People who I thought deserved it." Her gray eyes darkened as she reflected on her past actions. "What you said… About how it's easier to hurt those who we blame than ourselves… About how no amount of bloodsheding can wash away the sins of the past… How our past actions cannot be erased with time… All of it is beginning to… To make me realize what a monster I've become."
Without a word, Goblin Slayer stepped closer, reaching up to grasp her shoulder armor— barely managing to reach it with his height difference. He craned his neck up, his expression soft but resolute, a comforting smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "We're not to blame for the world turning us into monsters," he said gently. "But we are responsible for letting that part of ourselves die… So that something more beautiful can grow from the ashes of those forlorn memories."
He let the words linger in the air, lowering his head slightly as he sighed— a wave of catharsis washing over him. "It all starts with coming to terms with those sorts of ugly truths. We have to know what needs to be annihilated, before we can set it alight— lest we kill the parts of ourselves worthy of salvation."
D'Arce stood in silence for a long moment, with her eyes searching his face for something unspoken— something only they both could understand. "… My, how you've grown, Ashta."
The sun cast its warm, golden light over Maggiore Outpost— a bustling frontier settlement renowned as the largest and most important headquarters for the Adventurers' Guild. Its cobblestone streets and timber-framed buildings gave the city a timeless, almost ancient charm, with the structures resembling an old-world aesthetic of steeply pitched roofs and exposed wooden beams.
Narrow alleys and open courtyards bustled with the energy of adventurers, merchants, and guild workers alike. Outdoor stalls lined the streets, selling everything from freshly sharpened weapons and potions to enchanted armor and trinkets for adventurers.
A group of lizardfolk, their scales glinting in the morning light, haggled with a dwarf merchant over a set of iron-plated bracers. Nearby, a group of anthropomorphic adventurers, with features of wolves and foxes, loaded their packs with provisions from a stall selling dried meats and spices.
Elves with fair hair, alongside their human companions, browsed magical scrolls. The outpost was a melting pot of races and cultures, united by their singular purpose: adventure and the endless quests that awaited them beyond the outpost's sturdy stone gates.
Guild Girl walked down the main road toward the Adventurers' Guild Branch Office, a content smile on her face. Her brown eyes gleamed with excitement for what the day had in store. She held a flask of black coffee in her hand, lifting the lid as she carefully blew on the surface of the hot beverage.
Taking a small sip, she savored the warmth, with her steps light and cheerful as she navigated the busy streets. The sky was a clear, beautiful blue, and the morning sun bathed everything in a soft glow. As she walked, she briefly looked up at the bright orb, feeling momentarily disoriented by the harsh light.
Then she collided with someone.
The hot coffee splattered from her flask, staining the front of a white cloak. Guild Girl stumbled back, and a gasp escaped her lips as her eyes widened in horror. "Oh no! I-I'm so sorry!" She stammered, with her face flushing with embarrassment as she reached out, trying to dab at the mess with her sleeve. Her flustered gaze trailed downward and froze.
The figure she had bumped into was a woman, but it wasn't just the spill that caught her attention. Beneath the soaked fabric of the white cloak, Guild Girl saw the curve of the woman's chest where the hot coffee clung to her, revealing the outline of her breasts. Guild Girl's face grew redder as she tried to avert her gaze, but something else caught her attention— dark blue skin.
Guild Girl's breath hitched. Beneath the woman's hood, she could see her face, beaten and bruised. Her blackened eyes, fresh welts, and cuts stood out against her deep blue skin. Her lips were busted, her nose broken and crooked. A dark-elf, who quietly mouthed the word, "R-Run…"
"Oh my gods..." Guild Girl whispered, her voice shaky. The horror and concern flooded her expression. She reached out, intending to help the battered girl.
But the moment her hand touched the girl's slender shoulder, the dark-elf recoiled violently, letting out a panicked gasp. She shuddered, her breathing becoming rapid, like a cornered animal.
Guild Girl froze, her hand still outstretched. The girl's reaction stunned her, but before she could say anything more, a second hooded figure behind the dark-elf stepped forward. The pale-faced woman had maroon hair peeking from under her hood, and her eyes were cold as she looked down at Guild Girl. "Excuse us," she said in a chillingly calm voice— her tone sharp and dismissive.
The woman placed her hand on the dark-elf's back, and Guild Girl saw the movement— subtle, but unmistakable. The pale woman's sleeve shifted slightly, and Guild Girl realized with a shock that she was concealing a weapon. Fear surged through her.
"Wait-!" Guild Girl began to shout, but her voice cracked with panic. "H-Help! S-SOMEONE HELP! SHE'S TAKING HER HOSTAGE!" She shouted, while pointing toward the hooded woman— her voice shrill as she tried to get the attention of nearby adventurers.
Several heads turned.
The first to react was Heavy Knight— a towering young warrior clad in dark, sleek armor with a massive sword slung across his back. He narrowed his eyes at the commotion and marched forward, with his hand reaching for his sword hilt.
"Oi! What the hell do you think you're doing?!" He growled at the hooded woman, while stepping in front of Guild Girl as he blocked the path of the two.
The hooded woman didn't flinch.
Instead, she leaned in close to the trembling dark-elf— whispering something in her ear. Guild Girl couldn't hear what was said, but whatever it was made the dark-elf stiffen in terror.
Before Heavy Knight could grab the woman's shoulder, she moved.
Unnaturally fast.
In one smooth motion, she spun on her heel— pulling the dark-elf in front of her as a shield. The next sound was a deafening pop.
Blood sprayed from the dark-elf's abdomen. The bullet pierced clean through her body— striking Heavy Knight in the stomach. He stumbled backward, with his hand reflexively going to his gut as he stared down in disbelief at the blood spreading across his armor.
The hooded woman didn't stop. She lowered her revolver and fired twice more at the back of the dark-elf's heels. Her tendons were blown apart, and the dark-elf let out a harrowing scream as she collapsed to the ground— writhing in agony.
Heavy Knight gritted his teeth, ignoring the searing pain in his abdomen. He gripped his sword with both hands and raised it high above his head. It was a massive blade, heavy and unwieldy, but he swung it down with all his might toward the hooded woman.
Another shot rang out. The bullet tore through Heavy Knight's hand, blowing off his pinky and ring finger. His grip faltered, and the sword slipped from his hands— clattering to the ground.
"D-Dammit…!" Heavy Knight grunted, while clutching his bleeding hand as he stumbled back— his strength rapidly draining.
Female Knight and Half-Elf Light Warrior sprang into action. Half-Elf Light Warrior darted forward, his rapier gleaming as he aimed for the hooded woman's throat. "D-DAMN Y-"
But she was faster.
The woman muttered something to the dark-elf at her feet, a cold, detached whisper, before raising her revolver again. She aimed between the eyes of the charging elf and pulled the trigger.
The elf's head snapped back as the bullet struck— a spray of blood and brain matter following. His body crumpled to the ground, lifeless, with his rapier clattering uselessly beside him.
Heavy Knight let out a strangled cry as he caught his friend's body— staring down in shock at the gory mess that had been the elf's head. "No... no, no! NO!" He shouted, with his voice breaking as tears welled in his eyes.
Female Knight clenched her teeth, fury burning in her chest. "W-Why you…!" She raised her sword and cast a miracle— a radiant light surrounding her and Heavy Knight. Their bodies surged with renewed strength, stamina, and speed. With her shield raised, Female Knight advanced— her sword ready to strike.
The hooded woman dodged— her movements almost unnatural in their speed and fluidity. With a series of acrobatic flips and aerial maneuvers, she evaded their strikes effortlessly— her slim, muscular frame twisting and turning as if the attacks were beneath her.
Guild Girl watched in stunned silence, with her eyes wide as she realized this woman wasn't just some assassin. There was something far more dangerous about her. And then she heard the hooded woman's voice, cold and commanding.
"Funnels."
Small, geometric objects then materialized around her— flying apparatuses that whirred to life with a brilliant yellow glow. They darted around her in unpredictable movements, and without warning, they fired beams of powerful light.
The beams tore through the adventurers attempting to flank her. Their bodies were ripped apart, limbs severed and blood splattering across the cobblestones. Screams filled the air as more adventurers fell— their bodies collapsing in bloody heaps.
Female Knight raised her shield, but the beams shattered the light barrier she had enchanted with her miracle. Her shield exploded in her hand, with the shrapnel embedding itself in her armor and face. She screamed in pain as she and Heavy Knight were blown back by the force— crashing through the wall of a nearby building. The roof collapsed, burying them under the rubble.
Witch, standing nearby, tried to cast a spell to protect herself. But before she could finish her incantation, Haman fired another shot. The enchanted bullet striking the endowed magic-user's reflective barrier— shattering its defenses instantly.
Haman's cold voice cut through the chaos, mocking the dark-elf lying in her own blood. "Look at how much death your cowardice has brought. How many more need to die for your incompetence?"
Spearman, his face twisted with rage, staggered toward Haman. "You... Y-You monster!" He shouted, while gripping the shaft of his spear as he charged at her.
But the lieutenant was ready. With a simple command, one of her funnels flew forward and intercepted him. It struck with precision— slicing through the wooden spear shaft like it was nothing. The force sent Spearman sprawling to the ground— his weapon reduced to nothing more than splinters.
"You're not even worth my time," Haman said coldly, her piercing blue eyes locked onto him as she turned her back— dismissing him as if he were nothing.
Guild Girl's heart pounded in her chest as she tried to gather her thoughts, but all she could hear were the haunting echoes of the gunshots, the screams, and Haman's chilling voice.
Just then, the lieutenant's voice rang out again, harsher, louder— an order, this time, filled with rage.
"Funnels!"
The whirring sound of the funnels grew louder, and Guild Girl's eyes widened in terror as she watched them position themselves around Haman. The air seemed to ripple with magical energy as the funnels spun in rapid circles, each one glowing with a brilliant yellow light. In the blink of an eye, beams of searing energy shot downward— tearing through the streets and buildings like hot knives through butter.
The destruction was instantaneous.
Buildings caught fire and collapsed in on themselves— the once sturdy structures reduced to burning rubble. Adventurers and townsfolk alike were caught in the onslaught— their screams of terror abruptly cut off as the beams tore them apart. Limbs and charred flesh fell to the ground as bodies were disintegrated by the yellow light. The stench of burning flesh filled the air, mingling with the acrid smoke of the fires.
Guild Girl barely managed to dive out of the way— her body trembling uncontrollably as she crouched low, her heart hammering in her chest. Her entire body was consumed by fear, and she clutched her arms around herself— unable to even think clearly amidst the chaos.
Amid the carnage, the lieutenant's voice, now filled with deadly intent, rang out once more. "Call them," she commanded, with her revolver aimed down at the dark-elf. "Summon them, and this can all be over."
Trembling, the dark-elf shook her head with all the defiance she had left inside her small body— sobbing and shuddering, as she did her best to cover the exit wound that was in the middle of her abdomen.
Guild Girl could barely comprehend what was happening— her mind reeling from the violence and chaos that had consumed the once bustling street. Her fingers trembled as they dug into the dirt— feeling the weight of the carnage around her pressing down like a suffocating blanket.
And then, without warning, Haman leapt from the air and came crashing down on her.
The impact was brutal.
The lieutenant's boot slammed into Guild Girl's back— sending an explosion of pain through her body as her ribs cracked under the pressure.
Guild Girl gasped— unable to even scream this time, her mouth opening in silent agony.
"Call them!" Haman's voice, now filled with manic anger— cut through the chaos. Her revolver, still hot from the continuous firing, pressed down against the back of Guild Girl's head.
The searing heat of the barrel burned into her scalp, and she let out a hoarse, desperate scream. The metal singed her skin, and the smell of burning flesh filled her nostrils as her tears mixed with the dirt and blood on the ground.
"Call Albion, or this one dies!" Haman screamed— her voice frantic with rage, as she kept her foot planted firmly on Guild Girl's back.
Guild Girl could do nothing but sob— her body shaking violently as the pain and fear overwhelmed her senses. She didn't understand who this monster of a woman was, or why she was doing this. All she could feel was the crushing weight of her helplessness, and the excruciating pressure of the revolver pressing down on her skull.
Suddenly, the dark-elf let out a shriek— her voice hoarse from crying, but this time it was different. There was power behind it— an incantation in her native tongue that reverberated through the air. The very ground seemed to tremble beneath them as the spell took effect. Her eyes, glowing white with arcane energy, cast a brilliant light into the street as she completed the call.
A pulse of magic spread outward, shaking the Earth and sending shockwaves through the outpost. The ground cracked, and a sudden gust of wind swirled around them— knocking debris and dust into the air.
Haman, satisfied, lifted her foot off of Guild Girl's broken ribs, before removing the revolver from the back of her head— leaving her collapsed and shaking on the ground.
The teenager curled up into a ball, gasping for breath, as hot pain radiated from her broken ribs— her face streaked with dirt and tears.
But the reprieve was short-lived.
Five sharp cracks then echoed in quick succession— each one followed by the grotesque sound of flesh tearing and bones snapping. Guild Girl screamed— covering her ears and squeezing her eyes shut as the shots rang out mere feet from her.
Her mind was a blur of panic— her senses overwhelmed by the ringing in her ears. The muffled sounds of chaos filtered back in slowly, her body still shaking as she forced herself to open her eyes. She rolled over, terrified of what she might see.
There, less than a meter away from her, the dark-elf laid motionless on the ground— her body a mangled mess of blood and gore. Her head— what remained of it— was now unrecognizable— the five bullets having turned her skull into a grotesque heap of splattered flesh and bone. Blood pooled around her, with the last remnants of her life leaking out onto the cobblestones.
Heavy Knight and Female Knight were just pulling themselves from the rubble of the collapsed building. The blond teenager's armor was still caked with shrapnel, and her face was bleeding from deep cuts that ran across her cheeks and forehead.
She winced as she used her hands to dig out Heavy Knight, who had been partially buried beneath the debris. He clutched his abdomen— blood still seeping through his fingers— with his face pale from the pain and blood loss.
"I... I got you," Female Knight grunted as she helped him to his feet— her own legs shaking from the exertion. Both of them looked around at the carnage with wide, horrified eyes, their expressions mirroring the devastation that surrounded them.
Spearman stumbled toward Witch, who had collapsed onto the ground. Her body trembled as she held herself tightly, her face twisted in panic as she fought back a full-blown attack of terror.
"S-Sabrina!" Spearman called out— his voice cracking as he reached for her. His spear was broken, the haft snapped in two during the chaotic battle.
He tried to steady her, but Witch shoved him away— her breath coming in ragged, short gasps "I'm fine…!" She retorted in a shaky, raspy voice— her purple eyes overlooking the death and destruction all around her, before stopping once they reached Guild Girl. "G… Go check on her," she murmured, before whimpering in pain as she raised a hand up to point at the brown-haired teenager.
Spearman's eyes glistened with unshed tears as he began walking forward and away from Witch— his gaze falling on the mutilated bodies of adventurers and villagers. Some of them no more than children, who had been caught in the crossfire.
The wrong place, at the wrong time.
His teeth clenched, and a low, guttural growl escaped his throat as he fought the growing despair inside him. "D-Damn it…!" He shouted, while slamming his fist into the ground in frustration.
Haman was gone— vanished as swiftly and silently as she had appeared, leaving behind nothing but devastation in her wake.
Guild Girl's body still shook uncontrollably, as she hugged herself tightly— the pain of her broken ribs almost forgotten beneath the tidal wave of fear and horror that washed over her.
Her scalp throbbed where the revolver's barrel had seared her flesh, but she barely noticed. She had never felt so small, so helpless. Her mind replayed the massacre in excruciating detail: the screams, the flashes of light, and the bodies falling like broken dolls.
A whimper escaped her lips as she forced herself to sit up— her limbs trembling with the effort. Her brown eyes, wide and filled with terror, swept over the scene of carnage.
The streets that had once been filled with the bustle of adventurers, traders, and merchants were now littered with corpses— some of them torn apart by the beams of light, others shredded by the lieutenant's funnels.
Blood soaked the cobblestones, pooling around the bodies of the dead. Buildings had collapsed in on themselves, fires consuming the wooden structures and sending thick, black smoke curling into the sky.
Nearby, Witch was kneeling on the ground— her arms wrapped tightly around her body as if trying to hold herself together. She trembled violently, her breathing uneven, each inhale shaky and labored.
Her wide eyes darted from one corpse to the next, refusing to linger too long on any one body as though the sight was too much to bear. Her normally calm and collected demeanor had crumbled, leaving only a young woman on the verge of a breakdown.
"I... I couldn't stop her," Witch whispered, her voice small and broken. Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them away, unwilling to let them fall. "I couldn't... I didn't..."
And while she mourned in silence, Heavy Knight and Female Knight made their way from the ruins of the building that they crashed into— limping by one another's sides, while the young man continued to apply pressure on his entry wound. The two of them eventually stopped once they stepped onto the blood-stained street— both staring in disbelief at the horror around them.
"Gods above," Female Knight murmured, her voice thick with exhaustion. Her eyes roamed over the bodies, the shattered buildings, and the rising smoke. "Why… W-Why did this have to happen…?!"
Heavy Knight said nothing at first. His gaze was fixed on the spot where Haman had disappeared— his jaw clenched tightly in anger and frustration. He knew he had been beaten, humiliated. His pride as a warrior had been shattered along with his body, and the bitter taste of defeat gnawed at him.
But more than that, the weight of the lives lost— lives he had sworn to protect— pressed down on him like an unbearable burden, with his gaze reluctantly looking down at the lifeless body of his newest party member. "F… Forgive me…"
Guild Girl, still shaking, forced herself to stand on unsteady legs. Her breath came in sharp, shallow gasps— her chest heaving with the effort. She stumbled forward a few steps before collapsing to her knees again, with her body too weak to carry her further. She felt as though the world around her was spinning, her mind barely able to comprehend the scale of the destruction.
She had seen adventurers fall before— had heard of parties who never returned from dangerous quests— but never had she witnessed something so violent, so senseless. It was like a nightmare, one she couldn't wake from.
The others gathered around her, each of them broken in their own way, but none more so than Guild Girl. She stared blankly ahead, her eyes unfocused, with her face pale and streaked with dirt and tears. She couldn't find the strength to speak, her throat too tight with grief and guilt.
'If I hadn't shouted for help, if I hadn't panicked… Would they all still be alive?'
Spearman knelt beside her, with his expression softening as he reached out a hand to steady her. "Hey... I-It's over now," he said gently, though his own voice wavered with uncertainty. "You're okay… W… W-We're going to be okay…"
Guild Girl shook her head slowly, her lips trembling. "I… I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I didn't mean for… F-For any of this. I just… I just wanted to help…"
Witch, still clutching herself, looked over at Guild Girl— her eyes filled with empathy. "Don't blame yourself for this," she said, her voice stronger now, though it still shook with emotion. "This atrocity… Wasn't an act of random violence— there was a purpose behind it… There had to be…"
Female Knight wiped the blood from her brow, casting a weary glance at the destruction. "Blackwatch… They're the ones who are responsible for this— it had to be them," she muttered bitterly, her hands trembling as she clutched the hilt of her broken sword. "But, I… I j-just don't understand why a human would join them… It d-doesn't make sense to me…!"
Heavy Knight's gaze remained fixed on the horizon, where the light of the lieutenant's magic had faded. His expression was grim, his voice low and cold. "Whether Blackwatch is to blame is irrelevant," he said, "Albion… That pink-haired bitch wanted that dark-elf to summon Albion— and from the way the ground shook, she did. Meaning it'll only be a matter of time before this whole place is burned to the fucking ground."
Spearman stood, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. "We can't let that happen then," he said darkly, his eyes narrowing with anger. "There's… Soldiers, up in Matterhorn… If we can get them down here, then… Then we might have a chance to stop Albion— we can make sure that there won't be a reason for something like this to happen again… C-Can't we?"
The others nodded, though the weight of the task ahead of them felt crushing. The outpost that had once been a bustling hub for adventurers was now a graveyard, and the shadow of Haman's violence loomed large over them all.
Guild Girl let out a shaky breath, her eyes flickering up to meet the gaze of her companions. She didn't know what the future held, but one thing was clear— nothing would ever be the same again.