Ember
The key to my office sticks when I turn it. I have to wiggle it slightly before it gives way. The door swings open with a faint creak, revealing the small, windowed room tucked between the guard offices and the northern stairwell.
The desk inside is scratched and uneven. There’s a short filing cabinet in the corner and a tall, empty shelf that leans slightly to the right. It’s not much, but it’s mine.
The nameplate was already added to the roster this morning. Ember McMann, Royal Guard. I am not only no longer a trainee, I have been given a position of power. My name sits just above the junior ranks, still near the bottom of the list, but I’m filled with pride at my new position.
The patrol files are where I left them yesterday, sorted in neat stacks by sector. I cross the room
