All Secrets Known

[Violet]

Hope, A new beginning
Time,Time to start living -
like just before we died.

There's no going back to the place - We've started from.

Hurt, Falling through fingers.
Trust,Trust in the feeling -
there's something left inside.

There's no going back to the place - We've started from.
All secrets known.

Calm, All wounds are healing.
Strong, Truth is worth saving -
I want to feel the [night?]

There's no going back to the place - We've started from.
All secrets known.

All Secrets Known - Alice in Chains
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A full, supple moon as bright and beautiful as any on Earth filled the landscape with its luminescent sheen as they stepped through the portal and into the lands of Camelot. The warmth was comfortable, with only the most subtle of breezes weaving its way through the trees and tall grasses. Little bugs blinked their little yellow bums as they rose from the flowers in sparkly waves. The contrast from the last realm was incredibly vivid, where the Fountain was empty and devoid of everything, Camelot seemed to blossom with life, even here in what seemed to be late evening, when most creatures prepared for slumber.

“So, where are we going?” Violet was the first to break the silence between them. “It seems pretty late. Are we camping out somewhere?”

“Nay, m’lady;” Wyatt replied. “The first stop will be to an inn, yes, but there will be some business to attend to there before we had to Minas Tirith.”

“Ah yea, that’s the capital, right?”

“Right.”

Wooptie fucking doo, she thought to herself. “What sorta business?”

“My charges are usually processed and the appointments with the King are set up there. You’ll be logged as a visitor here, and evaluated for safety reasons.”

“Afraid I’m going to go batshit on your people, eh? Good to know I’m still intimidating as hell to someone;” she grinned.

Wyatt stifled a laugh as he prodded his horse to go a little faster. “You don’t strike me as ‘intimidating’, but always better to lean towards the side of caution than not.”

“I guess,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I used to be scary, once upon a time.”

He gave her a side eye that she took as disbelief. “I did!” she insisted.

“Whatever you say, m’lady.”

“Stop that.”

“What?”

“That ‘m’lady’ crap,” her face scrunched in annoyance. “I’m no one’s lady, and it’s just pretentious as hell.”

“I apologize if I offended m’la-“

She made a sharp noise, interrupting him before he could say that word again. “No.”

Wyatt sighed. “We’re almost there,” he announced.

“Thank goodness,” she snorted. “This is beautiful and all, but I’m bored out of my fuckin’ mind.”

“You’ll have plenty to do soon enough.”

“Good.” She released her reins long enough to pull her hair back into its ponytail, securing it with the scrunchie she usually had wrapped around her wrist. Fashionable and functional, just the way she liked it.

Fifteen minutes later, they entered into a town she could only surmise had never seen a lightbulb. Hurray, she thought dourly. No computers, no internet, not even electricity. How was she expected to live here?

“So, no one’s heard of electricity here?”

“The smaller villages often do not have such luxuries.” Wyatt led her towards a two story inn, a structure that looked like something straight out of a Victorian storybook. The past was the past for a reason, and she only hoped they believed in modern plumbing.

“Ugh. How do you people function?”

“Just the same as anyone else,” Wyatt looked slightly offended. “It takes a little more work, and we use different materials, but we function just fine.”

“Please, please tell me you at least have a shower here;” she whined.

“We have people who will bring you fresh hot water whenever you need it.”

Her skin flushed. She couldn’t freak out before she even gave it a chance. “Okay,” she breathed slowly. “So it’ll be like camping.”

“If that satisfies you, yes.”

“It doesn’t.” She stopped her mount in front of the inn and dismounted, affixing the reins to a post nearby. “Like, I can almost hear banjos in the distance.”

“Some people do like to play instruments before bed,” Wyatt secured his own mount and walked towards the generous expanse of wooded stairs that led into the ornate building.

“That’s not what I meant…but it doesn’t matter. I’m stuck in this ho-dunk place until we meet Argon or whatever his name is.” She didn’t miss the derisive look Wyatt gave her over his shoulder. One could only hope he was as annoyed as she was. Surely, she couldn’t be the only one that had to suffer.

[Violet]

“I’ve fetched the girl,” Wyatt announced to the man at the front counter. “Is Charles ready?”

The man, an older gentleman sporting a swirly dark mustache flecked with gray, an honest-to-Kami top hat and matching vested suit, leaned forward, his gaze moving from Wyatt to Violet. His brows rose quizzically as he took her in. “These primes are getting stranger and stranger,” he observed, completely dismissing Wyatt’s question. “But at least she’s human.”

“As far as we know, yes.”

“The fuck you mean by that?” Violet snapped, her arms crossing over her chest, face set in an angry grimace. “I’m human enough.”

Fuzzylips behind the desk didn’t look one bit perturbed by her outburst. How hard was it to sort humans from not-humans? This was a real worry seeing as Wyatt was so concerned about whether or not she was safe to be around. Was this a common problem?

“Meant nothin’ by it, ma’am.” Fuzzy stood, stretching the full length of his lanky form. It must have been uncomfortable as hell being stuck in that small space for someone so tall. She let the ‘ma’am’ go, for now.

“Of course not.” She looked to Wyatt. “What does being human have to do with anything, anyway?”

“We get a lot of rabble here,” his hands went to his sides, thumbs smoothing over the hilts of his weapons. “The humans are not very keen on anything that isn’t like them, and the others feel the same about the humans. There’ve been attempts to make peace, but our ambassadors have only had spotty luck.”

“What are your feelings towards the human thing?” Violet leaned against the polished wood of the reception desk.

“As long as they don’t drag the fights into town, I don’t much care about it.”

“That doesn’t really answer my question.”

“We’ve all been victimized at one point or another by the others. I don’t much care for them.”
Her eye twitched. “They’re that bothersome? Is it because they’re just assholes or because they’re not human?”

Wyatt considered her question for several moments. “A little bit of both, probably.”

It was the best answer she was going to get, but prodding wasn’t likely to get her any more of a solid answer, so she dropped the conversation. Perhaps her purpose here was to help bring some kind of peace between the factions. She had her ways of bringing peace if it was necessary, and she doubted any of them would be keen about her techniques. They struck her as the fancypants law-abiding kind, where violence wasn’t something practiced, even if a situation necessitated its use. Sometimes, you just gotta smack a bitch to get things done, and maybe she was that smacker. If that was her job here, she could live with that for a little while, she supposed.

“So, who’s Charles?”

“One of the king’s advisors,” the mustachioed man replied. “He roams between the capital and Dalaran. Doesn’t get around to these parts very often.”

“Dalaran’s another city, I take it?”

“One of the bigger ones, aye.”

“Sounds fancy,” she flicked a small wadded ball someone had previously abandoned across the surface of the desk. “So, what’s Charles going to do?”

“He’ll be the one who will be evaluating you. Bill here will get you in the logs and start the processing.” Wyatt nodded towards Bill, a.k.a. FancyPants.

“Take a seat over there, ma’am,” Bill pointed towards a rather uncomfortable wooden seat at the other end of the desk. Taking the seat, she crossed her legs and tried to get as cozy as she could. It wasn’t easy.

“Name?”

“Violet Uzumaki.”

He scribbled the name in his book. “Good, age?”

“Old enough.”

Bill looked up from his log, brows furrowing momentarily. “It’s not the most polite thing to ask a lady her age, but if you could…”

Leaning forward, Violet placed her crossed arms on the desk, her face unmoved. “I don’t really give two shits about niceties. You have my name, and that’s all you need to know. My age is irrelevant.”

“I don’t care for your attitude, Ms. Uzumaki.”

“I don’t care about this place, Billy.”

Oh, say it, say it! She wanted him to explode, something, anything. It was there, whatever he was feeling at that moment, and none of it was nice. He didn’t feel right to her the moment she walked through the door, and the only thing keeping her here was that she kind of half-assed a promise to try.

“We’ll come back to the question later, then.”

“Sure, Billy.” Vi reclined in the chair, propping her booted feet on the desk.

“What is your intent in Camelot?”

Shrugging, Violet replied, “Hell if I know. Your buddy convinced me to come. I use ‘convince’ loosely, because I don’t much trust anyone that just pops up out of nowhere and invites me to their place.”

“Wyatt?”

“Charles asked for her specifically.”

“Ooh, I must be special. I still don’t know who this dude is.”

“Charles can be trusted,” Wyatt began, pulling a silver box from one of the pockets at his hips. From it, he withdrew a narrow brown object and placed it to his lips. With a flick of his wrist, a flame emerged from a fingertip and he lit the end, a plume of smoke rising from the glowing ember. “What you do not reveal on your own, he’ll find out for himself.”

“So, he’s a telepath?”

“Aye.”

“Fantastic.” Violet bolted to her feet, shoving the chair under the desk. “Nothing like a little mind rape to convince me of my safety!”

“Psh,” Billy smacked the book closed and pushed out of his chair. He was pissed, and she was glad for it. The tension between the three was palpable, and it was a nice reprieve from the dullness that embodied the ride here. Billy suddenly stiffened, his eyes darting towards a door in the far corner of the corridor. “He’s coming.”

“Finally,” Violet grumbled, a sliver of hope illuminating her eyes. “I’m pretty tired, and just want to get this shit over with so I can go to sleep.”

“Soon enough, my dear.” The door opened, and a man came through, except she wasn’t expecting him to be…so small. No, small wasn’t the word; he was in a wheelchair that for all she could determine, was moved by its own power. Then she felt it…his energy. It prickled along her skin, marching upwards like a pack of ants. She responded with her own burst of energy, a slight illumination just beneath her skin, tinging her pale flesh with an undercurrent of red. It was very brief, but enough to capture the crippled man’s attention. “Come, Ms. Uzumaki, let us talk in private. I have supper laid out and other refreshments. I’m sure you’re quite tired from your journey.”

Something about him made her want to trust him. His eyes were a gentle blue, and where they should have been frigid and unwelcoming, all she felt was warmth. Everything within her began to mellow, and she stepped toward him. “That sounds great, Charles.”

“Good to hear, right this way.”

[Violet]

What she expected was more wood and a few sparse, uncomfortable pieces of furniture. What she got however, was indeed a lot of wood, but it was richly stained, polished and worked with intricate detail. The walls were floor-to-ceiling cherry oak stained so dark it was almost black. From the windows, thick, heavy curtains hung, simply patterned in chocolate brown with fat taupe stripes, trimmed with white lace. The carpeting was a similar theme, with the brown and taupe colors placed in carefully planned rows.

The room itself was huge, quite possibly encompassing the entire downstairs of the inn, minus a little room for the reception area. It was more of a flat than anything, complete with a small kitchen and sectioned off areas for a washroom and two other rooms. The living room, kitchen and dining area were all one large section, with shelves and oil lanterns placed so that the light was gentle, yet bright enough to read in. In the left corner of the kitchen, just beside the pantry, was another door, left slightly ajar so that the cool outside breeze could flow through. The door connecting his room to the reception area closed on its own accord, and they were suddenly alone. For the first time since she arrived in this…whatever it is, she didn’t feel as if she had to put up her shields. Charles had such a calming effect to his presence that it was feeding into her, soothing her. Whether it was his own natural charm or part of his power, she couldn’t decide, but she didn’t think he was malevolent.

Charles wheeled himself up to a moderately sized table, one she happily noted was filled with a delicious spread of food. She could see shrimp bathing in butter and scallions, sitting comfortably in a nest of thick noodles with mushrooms. Some dinner rolls piled into a basket between the two plates split the dining arrangement, and two glasses and several canteens of liquids filled up the rest of the table.

He didn’t need to say anything further as she slid her way into one of the padded chairs. “I knew I was hungry before, but now I’m starving!” she picked up a fork and prodded a shrimp. Buttery goodness slid from the punctures she made with her utensil as she nudged some mushrooms and other bits onto it and hastily shoved it into her mouth. She was a few bites in before Charles poured them both some dark liquid she suspected to be some sort of alcohol. His amusement was plainly etched in his features as he took his glass and took a languid sip.

“I felt you arrive,” he began, placing the glass on the tabletop. “I don’t sense energy the way you do, but in my own way, I could feel you and read you all the same.”

Violet hesitated with the next bite, suddenly aware of what he was saying, but wanted him to clarify in his own words. “What do you mean?”

“I’m a very strong telepath. If I focus enough, I can feel everything in this verse if I wanted to.” Charles began selecting bites from his plate, and shoved one glistening morsel into his mouth. “I try to remain alert for anything that could be a threat to the safety of Camelot and its people, as well as others we have sworn to protect through alliances. A lot of new primes have appeared, but you are one of the few that have caught the attention of both Aragorn and myself.”

Violet picked at a roll, dunking it in the light sauce that pooled on her plate. The entire setting was a little romantic, but she wasn’t about to bitch about it when there was free food involved. “Why me? What’s so special about me?”

Charles paused for a moment, his eyes narrowing for the briefest of moments before finally relaxing. “You’ve forgotten who you are.”

Shrugging, Violet chewed the warm bread. “Not really forgotten, I have feelings about what was before, but it’s like…it’s like trying to watch television with a huge truck in front of it. I know something’s there, but I just can’t remember what.”

“That’s an interesting way to describe it,” he said, swirling some pasta onto his fork. “The mind is a very complex thing, something I have a bit of experience in. Knowledge can be gained and it can be lost rather quickly, or over time, even when our bodies have developed a muscle memory with familiar actions, our minds can completely wipe it away as if it were never there. Luckily for you, your memories are still there, but they are indeed obfuscated.”

“I guess that’s good to know.”

“It is.” Charles drank his beverage quietly, and set the nearly empty vessel down before continuing. “I want to help you recover your talents, but it is going to take time and patience on both our parts in order to do so. I believe you have the ability to blend in well with your surroundings, as well as collect valuable information that could assist us greatly in overcoming Coruscant’s incessant attacks on Camelot and her people.”

She leaned back from the remains of her supper and folded her hands across her chest. “As I’ve expressed to Wyatt, I am not a fan of being someone’s tool, Charles.”

“I know,” he patted his lips with a napkin and placed it gingerly on the side of his plate. He was a very neat man, she observed, taking in his lithe form. She hadn’t encountered many people that were in his…situation, but he held himself with an air of pride, as if his disability were nothing but a mere pebble in his path. He was still intelligent, still fully capable of performing whatever duties were asked of him. It was admirable. “I feel the same, honestly, but in order to secure my safety and the safety of those who are charged with ensuring that safety and that of those less fortunate than ourselves, I have to overlook that personal philosophy and think of those who cannot help themselves from beings far more powerful than them.”

Shrugging, she suddenly felt uncomfortable. Suddenly finding herself in a position where she may have been unjustified in her arrogance was not something she was used to. “I guess when you put it that way…maybe I have been a bit of a dick.”

“We all have that potential when confronted with something that goes against our beliefs.” Charles watched her with those icy blue eyes, the warmth that they held should have melted those icebergs floating on his face, but they only seemed to refract a light that could not have come from anywhere in the room but from within himself. She was drawn to that power, and listened intently to his words.

“We react to our environment in many ways, and there is no doubt that some of those reactions come from how we were conditioned to. The people who attack us have been conditioned to hate us because it is the only way for them to survive. Coruscant can be a very confusing place, and unrelenting to anyone who opposes the regime. Refugees of all kinds take up residence there, and have to adapt to situations that some may find difficult to acclimate to. Even if they oppose the regime, they are still required to abide by certain social precepts, which include harboring hatred towards Camelot and its people.”

“That doesn’t seem to make a lot of sense,” Violet adjusted her position in the chair, shifting her legs from one side to the other. “If there are enough people who oppose a regime, shouldn’t they be able to fight back?”

“There are different social classes on Coruscant, and within those social classes, different kinds of powerful weaponry and methods are put in place to keep the lower classes in check.” His gaze darkened as he seemed to recall something, and suddenly, it was in her mind. Flashing neon lights and the very edge of modern technology juxtaposed over miles of ruins and forgotten relics of times and civilizations past. Death was meted out to the lower class citizens who even hinted at an uprising. Bodies of men, women and children intermixed with the wreckage pushed to the wayside and forgotten. A group of rebels huddled in darkness, young families with fear etched on their faces as troops from the upper tiers marched by, searching for those who dare oppose them. She was reliving a memory that did not belong to her, and she despaired. There were innocents there that he had helped, and since he was outcast from that life, it left them vulnerable.

The room was quiet around them, save for the flapping of loose papers pinned to a board by the door. Should she say something, or was the expression she reflected back to him enough to show how she felt? He could probably even read her mind, so he would already know her reaction to such an atrocity. “I do not condone the abuse of those weaker than I. This is why you wanted me, because you knew I would not tolerate such an injustice. You knew I would throw my hat into this and try to make it stop, and have absolutely no qualms about killing anyone who got in the way.”

Charles nodded. “I do not like killing unless it is absolutely necessary, but given my position and the fact that I am recognizable throughout Coruscant, I cannot go and give them the help they need.”

“But I can,” her voice was resolute, and she could feel the fire burning beneath her skin.

“Yes.”

“What about the people here, if there was a way to stop the infighting, perhaps there is a way to lead a strong army into Coruscant and dismantle these assholes.”
Charles pushed away from the table and wheeled around the room towards the kitchen’s open back door. “We’ve been trying for years to get them to get along.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“But they continue to fight,” he said wistfully. “As I’ve said, we are all conditioned to react a certain way when confronted by ideas that conflict with what we believe. In both situations, the people have lived in a way that is rather unforgiving to new ideas. One faction may be for a peaceful resolution, while the others will fight against it with everything within them, even if it means their death.”

“I know that particular feeling,” she got to her feet and approached the disabled man. “How can I help them? I don’t remember anything, and if I had power, it’s lost now.”

Charles smirked over his shoulder at her. “Oh, I think I can help with that.”

[Violet]

What a curious man, this Charles. An older gentleman, presumably human, didn’t look like much, but he vibrated a power so deep and so complex that she didn’t even have to concentrate to feel it buffet against her skin. He was right; his energy was definitely different than what she was used to. Maybe it was a quirk with this realm or there was more to this energy business than what she knew.

Could he really help her recover the memories of life before this reality? Would it even matter if she did suddenly relearn everything from her past? We are indeed a product of our past.It wasn’t much of a question anymore whether or not she should pursue his offer to help her regain those memories. They were already there, but they were clouded and it drove her up the wall trying to recall details but not being able to get past that barrier. Even if they weren’t the most pleasant, she had to know.

“Will it hurt?” Violet asked quietly.

“Physically? It shouldn’t,” Charles whirled his chair around, the suddenness of the movement forcing her to stumble back a few steps. “I try to be as gentle as I can, but some experience a little discomfort.”

“How exactly would you do it? I mean, you’re not putting your hands on me or anything, right?”

“I might have to touch your hands or head, but nothing invasive.”

“I don’t like the idea of someone fucking around in my head,” she clenched her hands at her sides, trying hard not to fidget or something else that would give her nervousness away. He would know anyways, wouldn’t he?

“You don’t have to do it, if you do not want to. I am not going to force you to do it if you’re uncomfortable.”

An out. He gave her one and all she had to do was say yes. “I have to. Maybe not for you, or anyone else but for me. I have to know.”

Charles smiled warmly up at her, grabbing her hand and giving it a quick, gentle squeeze. That one movement sent a spiral of electricity up her arm, then fizzled away as swiftly as it had happened. His expression fell, a sadness cloaking his face as if he saw something that broke his heart. Maybe he had.

“Why don’t we wait until tomorrow to do this? Enjoy the evening; nights like this come few and far between.”

“If we hold off, we might not get the chance later.”

“If we do this tonight, you will find no rest for some time,” he warned.

“I won’t have any regardless.”

Charles took a long, hard look at her. She wondered what he was thinking with such an intense gaze, or if he was already reading her mind. “Are you ready, then?”

Nodding, Violet swallowed a lump she didn’t realize she was holding. “I am.”

A moment later, she felt herself relax. Her body felt as if it were submerging in a pool of warm, warm water, inching slowly towards her core. Riding on that sensation, was something that felt like fur, just beneath her skin, sliding upward along her limbs and into her chest. It was strange, and she wanted to wrench herself away, but Charles held firm. She could only drop to her knees in front of him, eyes locked with his. The warmth and the furry sensation combined, moving upward along her neck and into her skull. “No…” she breathed. “Oh, Kami…”

Quickly, images fluttered before her eyes, and it was no longer Charles she was looking at. What once was icy blue eyes grew dark and beguiling. Black tufts of hair came into focus, straight and unruly as it jutted from his head. So familiar he was, his skin darkening as if kissed by the Sun, the scent just a memory but it made her think of home. It made her think of someone she cared about once upon a time. As soon as the name blinked into memory, the face faded away and replaced by another one, still just as familiar, and similar in their features. Where the other man’s hair was black as a moonless midnight sky, this younger man’s hair was lighter, taking on a cyan hue. His eyes were like her own, his face pocked with little freckles. Her son.

“Galen…” the name sprung to her as naturally as her own, and she reached out with her free hand to touch his face, a tear slipping from her eye and sliding down her pale cheek. When her fingertips made contact, the vision faded once again, and she was left cradling this stranger’s jaw. Jerking her hand away, she hastily apologized for her brazen caress.

“Don’t be,” he murmured, not only seeing her pain, but feeling it within himself. He let the power that flowed between them abate slightly. “We have to keep going. Are you well enough to continue?”

Vi smudged the wetness from her cheek and nodded. “Let’s do it.”

The warmth intensified until her vision went completely dark. It rocked her so thoroughly, she collapsed against his wheelchair, mouth agape in a silent scream. More images, more people, places and so much death fluttered before her. Throughout it all, so much power surged within her as she recalled lessons she had painstakingly learned through the years. The fog had lifted, and her past was laid bare. Charles flicked through the pages of her history with the interest of an adept student. “You will need to be retrained on much of this, I’m afraid.” He kept searching, the fingers of his psychic energy delving deep within her mind. “Ah…” he shifted himself in his chair as he leaned in a little closer. “A latent telepath yourself, I see. The ability has been damaged, however, but it is there. It shouldn’t be too difficult to repair. Time, patience, and a lot of practice should make it possible to relearn what you’ve lost quite easily.” He released her hand, and she fell backward against the edge of a coffee table.

She blinked up at him, suddenly feeling so exposed, but not able to determine how she should handle it. “S-should be cake,” she stumbled over her words like a frightened child. Memories from the past few decades randomly flickered before her eyes and faded just as quickly as they had come. It shook her deep to experience what amounted to an entire lifetime in the expanse of a few minutes. Charles was stronger than he let on, she noted. Strong, and perhaps very dangerous, if he chose to be.

“Before we begin redeveloping your skills, I believe it would be a good idea to get you started with some basic training.” Her host moved past her, towards the door that separated them from the reception area. He opened the door and motioned to someone outside of it. A piece of paper came into view, and thanking the messenger, he dismissed them, closing the door behind him. “It was a surprise to see you are already familiar with this tournament that has recently been advertising its events here.”

Confused, Violet tilted her head, eyebrow rising as she awaited further information. “Do you recall a ‘Dante’s Abyss’?”

[Violet]

The only thing louder than her heart having a rock concert inside of her chest was the silence that hung around them. It seemed to be the common theme for the night, this awkward quietness. The day as a whole had been fairly awkward.

Dante’s Abyss was one of the most horrific experiences she’d gone through – twice, to be exact. The fact that Charles had helped her recall those memories made her wish she had remained ignorant of it; then again, she did quite literally ask for it, so she had only herself to blame. “Yes, I remember. I participated in two of the events.”

“Two! Oh, my;” Charles’ brows rose in astonishment. “A third under your belt would be even more impressive, wouldn’t it?”

A chill danced across her skin, and she hugged herself to ward it off, but this wasn’t the kind of chill a blanket or a warm fire could remedy. “I wouldn’t deem it as part of my prouder moments.” Her eyes were haunted as they lifted to meet his gaze. “There were children participating in one event,” her voice lowered, recalling how easily one of the younger participants had died. “There should never be children in such a game.”

“I agree,” Charles said, his expression sullen. “But it’s the past, and there’s nothing you can do to fix it now.”

“I know.”

“Violet, I want you to join this tournament.” She blinked up at him. “This is the perfect opportunity to get your name out there, and get those in Coruscant to take an interest in you.”

“I thought we were going for subtlety here, Charles? This is the exact opposite of fucking subtle.”

“We can always be subtle later,” Charles replied. He shoved the paper at her. “Join up, make a name for yourself. If it works, you can get even closer to the inner workings of Coruscant’s elite, and possibly make the plans for an uprising even easier.”

Her gaze flicked from the paper to Charles several times; was he fucking serious? Oh, Kami, he was. Shit. With a dejected groan, Violet shoved to her feet, and began pacing a small path between the couch and the dinner table. “Do you realize what you are asking of me? I can’t risk my life since we’re supposedly immortal now, but you are certainly asking me to risk my sanity. Forever is a long time to be fucking crazy.”

“You’ve survived a lot worse, which is why I am asking you to do it.”

“One of these days I might just be lucky enough to hit the batshit lottery, and you know who’s going to be to blame for that?” She turned and stared at him, her expression cold. “You.”

Charles frowned. “I know what I am asking you to risk, and I know what it would cost you.” He wheeled the chair around so he didn’t have to look at her. He looked, instead, at a curious little item sitting on a display on his dresser. The cylindrical item was silver with black, and looked suspiciously like the hilt of a broken sword. “But, there are those that need us, both of us. How can I ask of you what I have not already tried? How can either of us live knowing we could have done something to save people who have done nothing but be born in the wrong place?”

Several long, silent moments passed, and all she could do was look at the back of his bald head, wondering if he really knew what he was doing, especially if he knew the kind of task he was entrusting her with. “You’re right, Charles. I would not be able to live knowing that I could have done something to protect people who really needed it. I have the training – hell, killing bad guys is the only thing that’s brought me peace since I was a teenager. I can do it in so many ways I’ve lost count.”

“Which makes you the obvious choice to carry out the task,” Charles reached out and picked up the object on the dresser, his fingers running over its obsidian colored shaft. “Go, Violet. Please. And when you return, we shall talk more and finalize the plans.”

She didn’t want to do it, she didn’t want to go through it again, but what choice did she have? “Fine.”