Lucia
The echo of Ragnar’s mournful howl still seemed to hang in the air, his chilling final words a brand on Lucia’s soul.
The moment you forget that, is the moment you’re lost.
Wasn’t she already, in a way? There was no place for her here.
Possibly, there was no place for her anywhere.
She was adrift, and there was only one anchor left to her.
Her gaze fell upon the small fruit knife on the dresser, left beside a bowl of apples. It was a mundane, domestic object, a strange key for a sacred lock.
Her resolve, which had wavered after seeing Ragnar, hardened again into a sharp point of need.
No more waiting.
No more being a pawn.
She picked up the knife, the steel cool and definitive in her hand. For a moment, she hesitated, her thumb hovering over the blade.
Then, with a
