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I'm sure I'm not the only author receiving messages from artists asking to collab. I wanted to be clear that I am not interested at this time. Thank you for your kind words anyways.
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Violet's Light – chapter 3
Across the waters of the River Pilt, where the air flowed freely with the sea breeze, up in the upper echelons of the tallest gilded buildings in Piltover, windows glinting gold in the sun, was the Council's Hall. It stood adjacent to the Academy, its courtyard a hubbub for gathering intellects and new students wishing to share ideas.
But Cassandra Kiramman did not look down out of her office window. The counselor sat stiff straight at her desk, her back to the glass, tapping her quill against the table as she glared at the paperwork in front of her.
She couldn't tell what was wrong. The proposal in front of her was tiresome but otherwise rewritten to how she had preferred. Her tea had grown cold in its cup, but even that was not unusual.
Something was wrong. Deep in her bones, something was different today.
Maybe that was why she snapped at her assistant, "Mildred! What is next in my schedule?"
A mousy girl with a tight bun scurried into the room, holding a clipboard. "C-Counselor Kiramman, you have a luncheon with your husband at noon, and after that you have a meeting scheduled with Ms. Amara at 2pm. Then you will cut the ribbon for the new clinic opening down the street at 3:45. Did… Did I miss anything, ma'am?"
Cassandra narrowed her eyes and sighed, "No, you're right…"
"Ma'am?"
She waved her away with her gloved hand. "I'm sorry to distract you. I feel as if I've forgotten something today…"
Mildred breathed an internal sigh of relief, wiping her sweaty palms on her skirt. "I'm sure it will come to you."
Without another word, Mildred took it as a sign to leave. But just as she was about to reopen the double doors, the panels burst open as a man in guard uniform rushed in. He was panting, out of breath.
Shocked, Mildred fell backwards to the floor. At the same time, Cassandra stood up from her desk. Her hand was barely held back from reaching for her rifle, hidden under the table.
She clenched her fists, the shock of adrenaline irritating as she recognized the guard.
"How dare you storm into a counselor's office without cause!"
"B-Beg your pardon, miss, I mean, counselor," the man knelt to the floor with a hand over his large chest. His white handlebar mustache huffed and puffed as he struggled to breathe.
Cassandra rolled her eyes, "Spit it out, Harold!"
"There's been an accident," the man said, his face pale.
Cassandra's blue eyes went wider when he didn't elaborate. "What kind of accident?" she asked, more worried by what he wasn't saying.
"At your workshop, on Progress Street," he panted, his eyes serious, "There was an explosion. The building collapsed!"
"What?! Was anyone hurt?"
"We think so."
"Oh gods, send for the carriage at once!" she snapped to Mildred.
But Mildred wasn't paying attention. She was across the room, opening a pneumatic tube that had just dropped from the pipe along the wall. Her hands shook as she read the letter.
"What is it?! We've just received a crisis!" Cassandra barked.
"I-It's Caitlyn, ma'am," she whimpered, "From the Kiramman estate. They can't find her anywhere."