Vi was acting strange again. The way she kept calling me "princess" lately felt… off. It wasn't the sharp-edged jab it used to be. Now it carried a teasing tilt, like she was trying to dig under my skin just for the reaction. And it worked. Every damn time. The worst part was that I didn't know if I was more irritated by her tone—or by the fact that I didn't hate hearing it.

"It's not worth it," I said, my voice tight as I leaned against the wall. My arms were crossed, partly to look defiant, but mostly to keep myself from shaking.

Vi glanced over her shoulder, her smirk sharp and mocking. "You don't even know what it is yet."

"I don't need to," I shot back. "I know enough. You say it's 'easy,' but that's always the first red flag. Big stakes? High payout? The only thing I hear is danger."

Her smirk faltered, replaced by a glare. "You don't know anything about it, Grace. You're just scared because it's not your thing. You've never been out there, so don't act like you know what you're talking about."

"I don't have to be out there to see this for what it is," I said, standing straighter, my gut twisting with frustration. "You think I don't notice how you talk about these jobs? How you drag Powder along like she's some sidekick in your crusade to prove... what? That you're untouchable?"

Her jaw clenched, and she turned fully to face me. "Don't bring Powder into this. She can handle herself."

"She's a kid!" My voice cracked, but I didn't care. "You keep telling her that if she just sticks with you, she'll be fine. But what happens when she's not? What happens when one of these jobs goes south, and she's caught in the middle?"

Vi took a step closer, her fists curling at her sides. "Powder's tougher than you give her credit for. She's not some fragile little doll."

"And you're not invincible!" I shot back, my chest tightening. "You keep acting like you're bulletproof, but you're not. One day, Vi, you're going to get her—or yourself—killed."

Her eyes narrowed, the fire in them burning hotter. "You don't get to talk to me like that. You don't know what it's like out there. You've never had to make these choices."

"No, I haven't," I admitted, my voice shaking. "But I don't need to be out there to see you're taking stupid risks. And for what? A few coins? A reputation? What's it gonna take for you to realize it's not worth it?"

Her laugh was bitter, sharp, and cold. "Not worth it? You think we have the luxury of saying no? You think we can just sit back and wait for someone else to fix everything? That's not how it works down here, princess."

"Stop calling me that!" I snapped, taking a step forward. "You think you're the only one who cares? The only one who wants more for us? I care, Vi, but not at the cost of dragging Powder into this mess with you!"

Vi's face twisted with anger, her voice rising. "You don't understand. I'm trying to give us a chance. A real chance, not the scraps Vander lets us have. I'm not doing this for fun, Grace—I'm doing this because no one else will."

"No, you're doing it because you can't stand the idea of sitting still!" I countered, my words tumbling out before I could stop them. "You're so desperate to prove something, you don't care who gets caught in the fallout."

Her fists clenched tighter, her voice a low growl. "You think you know me? You think you can stand there and tell me what I'm about? You're wrong. I care about this crew more than anyone, more than you ever could."

"Then stop pretending you're a hero," I said, my voice breaking. "Stop dragging Powder into your messes. She deserves better than to be your backup plan for when things go wrong." Oh I knew it was wrong using Powder as my argument, but admitting that i was so scared of losing her to her own stubbornness, it made my heart ache.

Vi flinched at that, her mask cracking for a split second before she doubled down. "You don't know a damn thing about what Powder needs. She trusts me. She believes in me."

"Yeah?" I said, my throat tight. "Then maybe you should start acting like someone worth believing in."

The words hung in the air like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, I thought I'd finally gotten through to her. But then her face hardened, her eyes blazing with anger.

"You don't get it," she said, her voice cold and final. "I don't have the luxury of playing it safe. If I don't take these chances, who will? You?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat, shaking my head. "No one's asking you to do it all, Vi. That's just you. You're the only one who thinks you have something to prove."

She stepped even closer, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Stay out of my way, Grace. If you're too scared to take a chance, that's on you. But don't you dare try to stop me."

My stomach twisted, but I held her gaze, refusing to back down. "Fine," I said, my voice trembling. "Do what you want. But when it all goes to hell, don't expect me to be there to pick up the pieces."

Her eyes flickered with something—hurt, anger, regret?—but she didn't say another word.

And then, out of nowhere, Powder's voice cut through the chaos.

"Stop it! Just stop!"

We both froze, turning to look at her. She was standing in the doorway, her small fists clenched, tears streaming down her face.

"You're supposed to be my family," she said, her voice trembling. "You're supposed to care about each other. But all you do is fight!"

The weight of her words hit me like a brick to the chest. Guilt flooded me, drowning out the anger and frustration, and I reached out toward her.

"Powder—"

She didn't let me finish. She turned and ran, disappearing down the hallway before I could stop her.

I looked back at Vi, hoping she'd say something, do something—but she just stood there, her face set in stone.

Then, without a word, she turned on her heel and walked away.

The silence that followed was suffocating. Milo and Claggor, who had been watching from the sidelines, exchanged uneasy glances before quietly slipping out of the room, leaving me alone with my swirling thoughts and the crushing weight of my own emotions.

I sat down hard on the edge of a crate, burying my face in my hands. My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath, the tears I'd been holding back finally spilling over.

I was just a kid. A kid with too many secrets, too much weight on my shoulders, and no one to share it with.

Vi thought I was a coward. Powder thought we were falling apart. And I… I didn't know how to fix any of it.

I stormed into the building where I knew Sevika would be, slamming the door behind me with enough force to make the walls shake. My heart was pounding, my chest tight with the weight of everything I couldn't say aloud to anyone else. Sevika was sitting at a table, sharpening one of her blades, but she glanced up with an arched eyebrow at my dramatic entrance.

Before she could say a word, my attention snagged on him. Silco.

He stood leaning casually against the far wall, his mismatched eyes fixed on me with an intensity that felt like a cold, probing scalpel. There was something maddeningly calm about him, something too steady, too calculated. Like he already knew what I'd say, how I'd move, and how I'd break if he pushed hard enough.

It sent my frustration soaring.

I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms. He thought he was so clever, so untouchable. But I knew who he was. I knew what he would become. And in that moment, I decided to place every ounce of my anger on him—a stupid man, with a stupid, smug face.

"What?" I snapped, the word cutting through the room like a blade.

He tilted his head slightly, those sharp eyes narrowing just enough to set my teeth on edge. His expression was unreadable, like he found my outburst amusing but couldn't be bothered to react.

Then, without a single word, he turned and walked out, his footsteps echoing in the hall like the ticking of a clock I couldn't stop.

I stared after him, my chest heaving, my pulse pounding in my ears. That unbearable silence he left behind only made my skin crawl more.

"What's his problem?" I muttered through gritted teeth, more to myself than to Sevika.

The sharp scrape of her blade against the whetstone was her only answer. It grated at me, every stroke like a hammer against the walls of my sanity.

I threw myself into the nearest chair, letting my head fall into my hands. I pressed my palms against my temples, as though I could somehow squeeze out the frustration threatening to tear me apart.

It wasn't just Silco. It wasn't just Vi. It was everything. Every piece of this world felt rigged, tilted just enough to make me slip, no matter how hard I tried to hold on.

My breathing came quick and shallow, and my vision blurred as tears threatened to spill. I hated him. I hated this. That man—the one leaning against the wall like a predator biding his time—he wasn't someone to mess with. But I didn't care anymore.

Let him glare. Let him scheme.

It felt like my world was already on the brink of crumbling, every thread unraveling faster than I could patch it. Silco, Vi, Powder, even Sevika with her damn whetstone—they were all just pieces of some chaotic puzzle I couldn't solve.

And in the center of it all was me. Angry, scared, and too stubborn to admit that maybe—just maybe—I was falling apart.

"You look like shit," Sevika finally said, her voice flat but not unkind.

I let out a dry laugh that sounded more like a sob. "Thanks. That's exactly what I needed to hear."

"What's going on, Grace?" Her tone had softened—just a little—but it was enough to crack something inside me.

"I don't want to do this anymore!" The words burst out of me, louder than I'd intended. I sat back, clutching my chest as if it would stop the ache there. "All of it. The jobs, the plans, the constant pressure of trying to keep everyone alive. I don't even know what the best choice is anymore! I don't even remember all the details. I just know something bad is coming, and I—"

I cut myself off, choking on the words. Sevika was staring at me now, her knife forgotten on the table.

"You're not making sense," she said carefully.

"Of course I'm not making sense!" I snapped, my voice rising again. "Nothing makes sense! And that guy—" I waved a hand toward the door Silco had disappeared through. "He's a freak! Who just stands there listening to people's conversations like some kind of… weirdo?" My words were tumbling out in a rush now, unfiltered and frantic. "I mean, does he think he's subtle? Because he's not. And why does he have to look at people like that, like he's dissecting their souls or whatever?"

Sevika leaned back in her chair, her brow furrowing. "Grace, you're spiraling."

I laughed again, the sound high-pitched and hysterical. "Oh, you think? Maybe it's because I've got the weight of the world on my shoulders and no freaking clue how to carry it!" My voice cracked, and I squeezed my eyes shut, my hands digging into my hair.

There was a long pause before Sevika spoke again, her voice unusually gentle. "You're not alone, you know."

Her words hit like a match to gasoline. I let out a strangled laugh, the sound breaking in my throat as I looked up at her with wild eyes. "I am! That's just it—I am alone! No one knows anything. No one understands." My voice rose, each word more unhinged than the last. "Do you have any idea what it's like to carry all of this? To know that something bad is coming and not be able to stop it because I don't even remember all the details? I can't tell anyone. I can't fix anything. I'm just a stupid kid who doesn't know what the hell she's doing!"

Sevika blinked, her steady composure cracking into something wary. "Grace, what the hell are you even talking about? Bad things happen every day down here. What makes you so sure—"

"I just know, okay?" I cut her off, my voice cracking. I was unraveling, and I knew it, but I couldn't stop. "I can't explain it to you. I can't explain it to anyone." My hands trembled as I dug my nails into my palms, trying to ground myself, but it didn't help. "Do you have any idea how much it hurts? Knowing that no matter what I do, I'm going to screw it all up?"

Sevika leaned forward, her confusion morphing into concern, but there was still an edge of irritation in her tone. "You're not making any sense, kid. You're all over the place. If something's coming, then spit it out. What's got you this worked up?"

"I can't!" The word tore out of me like a scream, and I surged to my feet, pacing as if I could outrun the suffocating weight in my chest. "I can't tell you. I can't tell anyone. Don't you get it?!" My head whipped around to look at her, tears blurring my vision. "I can't talk about it, and I can't fix it, and I don't know what the hell to do!"

Sevika sat back, her frown deepening. "Okay, slow down. You're acting like the sky's falling, but it sounds like you're panicking over nothing. Whatever it is, we'll handle it. That's how we do things down here."

I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head. "You think this is something you can just 'handle'? Like it's another bar fight or a botched deal?" My voice broke again, and I wiped furiously at my cheeks. "It's not. You don't understand, Sevika, and you can't."

"Then help me understand," she shot back, her voice hardening with frustration now. "I'm not a mind reader, Grace. You're losing it over something, and I'm trying to help, but you're not giving me anything to work with."

"I'm giving you everything!" I screamed, my hands balling into fists at my sides. "Everything I can say, anyway. But it's never enough, is it? No one ever listens, not really." My breath hitched as I felt the tears spilling faster now. "I'm just… I'm just so tired."

Sevika's expression softened, but the confusion was still there. "Kid, listen—"

"No!" I snapped, my voice cutting like a whip. "Just… stop. Forget it. Forget I said anything."

I turned toward the door, the ache in my chest twisting tighter with every step. Sevika's voice followed me, sharp and uncertain. "Grace, wait. Talk to me—"

I paused in the doorway, not turning back. "Talk to you? About what? You think you'd get it if I did?" My voice dropped, raw and bitter. "You can't help me, Sevika. No one can."

She didn't answer. The scrape of the whetstone had stopped, but the silence in the room was heavier than her words ever could've been. I could feel her watching me, probably trying to figure out what the hell I was even talking about. But I didn't have the words to explain—not to her, not to anyone.

My hand gripped the door handle, knuckles white as I flung it open to storm out.

And there he was.

Leaning lazily against the doorframe like he'd been there all along, Silco's mismatched eyes fixed on me with that maddening calm. His expression was smug, unreadable, but there was a flicker of amusement lurking behind his sharp gaze, like he found this all incredibly entertaining.

It was the final straw.

"Seriously?" I snapped, my voice rising before I could stop it. "Do you just live to piss me off, or is it some kind of hobby?"

Silco's lips curled into a faint, almost lazy smile. "I find it helps to observe… quietly." His tone was smooth, calculated, and it only made my skin crawl more.

My hands shook as I shoved past him, ignoring the urge to slam the door in his face. But I stopped, my rage refusing to let me leave without a final word. I glanced back, first at Sevika, who hadn't moved an inch, then at Silco.

"And tell your creepy boss," I said, my voice flat and sharp as a blade, "to stop eavesdropping if he wants to keep his other eye."

I turned on my heel, my boots echoing against the floor as I strode down the hall. Behind me, the silence hung thick and unbroken for a moment—then I heard it.

A low, soft chuckle.

I didn't turn around, but I could picture his stupid face, the corners of his mouth twitching with amusement, like I was some unpredictable storm he enjoyed watching from a distance.

"Charming," Silco murmured, his voice barely audible but dripping with condescension.

"Shove it," I muttered under my breath, the words for me more than for him.

As I reached the end of the hall, the weight of everything pressed down on me. I needed to talk to someone, to anyone who might understand. But who?

The question gnawed at me as I pushed through the exit, my chest hollow and my head spinning.

After the mess with Sevika and Silco, I decided I needed a break. I snuck topside, figuring a change of scenery might help me breathe. The warm sunlight felt alien after days of Zaun's perpetual haze, and the promise of a moment's peace led me to a small cart selling ice cream. I ordered a cone, savoring the creamy sweetness and hoping it might dull the sharp edges of my spiraling thoughts.

As I wandered, lost in my head, a familiar voice interrupted. "Grace?"

I turned, blinking to see Caitlyn standing there in her neat uniform, looking like she'd stepped out of a polished painting. Her dark eyes held a mix of curiosity and surprise, but her small smile was genuine.

"Yeah, that's me," I said, trying to sound casual, licking my cone for emphasis. "What's up?"

She hesitated, as if considering her words carefully. "Do you, um… want to come to the library with me?"

I blinked, stunned by the unexpected offer. "The library?" I repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Sure, why not?"

Before I fully processed what was happening, she led me to an ornate building that screamed wealth and privilege. Stepping inside, the air smelled of polished wood and old books—a stark contrast to Zaun's metallic tang. Caitlyn moved with the ease of someone who belonged, and I awkwardly followed, feeling like an out-of-place smudge in a pristine painting.

And then, I met her.

Mrs. Kiramman was everything I expected—poised, elegant, and radiating the kind of silent judgment that could crush you without a single word. Her sharp eyes scanned me, taking in every detail, from my scuffed boots to the slightly frayed edge of my jacket. Her lips pursed almost imperceptibly, but I caught it.

I wasn't in the mood to play nice. Not today.

"Don't worry," I said with a syrupy smile, the words spilling out before I could stop them, "despite your best efforts, we're thriving down there."

Her brows shot up, her expression shifting to something colder, and she opened her mouth to respond.

I cut her off, the dam breaking entirely. "Maybe you should actually visit Zaun before trying to justify how it's treated. You know, instead of just talking about it from up here where everything's shiny and clean."

Caitlyn's face turned pale. "Grace!" she hissed under her breath, her mortification palpable.

The moment the words left my mouth, regret hit me like a punch to the gut. My throat tightened as I stumbled to salvage the situation. "I'm sorry," I blurted, my voice shaky. "I didn't mean— It's just— I've had a really bad week. A really bad week."

Mrs. Kiramman's expression shifted ever so slightly. I couldn't tell if it was pity or amusement, but her response wasn't what I expected.

"I see," she said carefully. "Why don't you join us for dinner, then? Perhaps a warm meal will help."

The invitation left me stunned. I glanced at Caitlyn, whose expression was a mix of disbelief and something softer—like she was silently rooting for me to accept. I swallowed hard and nodded. "Sure. Thanks."

Dinner was… surreal. The Kirammans didn't eat; they dined. Every course looked like it belonged in a museum rather than on a plate, but I didn't hold back. I was too hungry, too drained, and frankly, too stressed to care about etiquette. I devoured the meal like my life depended on it, each bite bursting with flavors I'd never experienced before.

Mrs. Kiramman asked polite questions about my upbringing, her tone carefully neutral, and I answered as vaguely as I could. She switched to praising Caitlyn, talking about her progress toward becoming an enforcer. I laughed nervously, nodding along but feeling more and more like I didn't belong in this world of crisp linen napkins and casual superiority.

At some point, the weight of it all became too much. The suffocating tension in my chest spilled over, and before I knew it, I was talking. "I'm sorry I was rude," I said, my voice cracking. I set my fork down and clasped my hands together to keep them from shaking. "There's just… there's this whole lot of bacon on my plate. Metaphorically."

Caitlyn tilted her head, confused. "Bacon?"

"It's a metaphor," I said quickly, waving my hands. "Like, too much. It's too much. I'm just angry, okay? I know I need some kind of outlet, but it's like—" My voice broke, and I struggled to breathe. "It's like it's the end of the game, and I'm the last one on the team. Or the only one on the team. I don't even know which one it is, and it doesn't matter, because it all feels the same."

Caitlyn stared at me, her face softening as she slowly stood from her chair. "Grace," she said quietly, stepping closer. I don't know why her calling me by my name felt, right.

I shook my head, gripping the edge of the table like it was the only thing keeping me upright. "I don't even know what I'm saying anymore. I just—"

Before I could finish, Caitlyn wrapped her arms around me, pulling me into a gentle hug. The warmth of it, the sheer humanity of it, broke something inside me.

I started sobbing, the kind of ugly, gut-wrenching sobs that left me gasping for air. My knees buckled, and Caitlyn guided me down to the floor, her arms never letting go.

Hi guys, I've been sick, but I have returned, sending hugs