Eni lay on the damp earth, pinned beneath the lifeless husk of Quivertertar. Her chest heaved spasmodically, each breath a grueling struggle, while her ears rang with the frantic, rhythmic thrumming of her own pulse. She was trembling—not so much from the chill of the night, but from the delayed realization of just how close she had come to the edge. As sensation finally flooded back into her fingers, Eni pressed her palms against the enemy's limp body, intent on shoving him off, when a strange voice sliced through the silence of the forest.

  It was neutral, yet incredibly charismatic and vibrant, filled with a peculiar, almost out-of-place emotionality.

  "I wouldn't do that, Eni. We don't want the Observer to realize we’ve been chatting, do we? No, we don't."

  Eni froze. Quivertertar’s body served as a makeshift shield, and her position was too awkward to turn her head and see the speaker. She was trapped under a corpse, forced into a dialogue with an invisible stranger. The newcomer's logic was murky, but her intuition whispered that she had nothing left to lose.

  "And how exactly does THIS keep the Voice from knowing you're talking to me?" Eni asked hoarsely, keeping herself perfectly still.

  The stranger went silent for a second, seemingly weighing how deep he should go into the technicalities.

  "Doc’s artifacts. You’ve probably noticed the Observer disappears abruptly sometimes? That’s the artifact jamming him. And no, nobody is going to tell you that to your face."

  Something clicked in Eni’s mind. Those strange moments of silence she had mistaken for the Voice’s resentment were actually moments of forced isolation.

  "Fine," she exhaled, realizing this was one of the Archons. "What did you want to talk about?"

  "Well, like, you know, you took down this weirdo, which means we might take you on as an intern soon, but then again, we might not," the stranger’s voice sounded ironic and light. "What if you’re the Observer’s spy? Just kidding. If you were, I’d have known instantly."

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Eni remained silent, processing the information. Interns? The status of an Archon had seemed irrelevant before, but now the offer sounded like a liberation from the Voice. The stranger stepped closer—Eni felt the air stir behind her. A slip of paper was dropped onto her face, right over the mud and clotted blood, and something hard and heavy was pressed into her palm.

  "Basically, there are coordinates on the map. Go there for... an inter...view?" The stranger sighed heavily, clearly not a fan of the official jargon. "Iva will probably handle it. You know... woman to woman, trauma to trauma, get it?"

  "No...?" Eni replied uncertainly.

  "Don't give a damn," the stranger’s voice remained perfectly neutral, devoid of aggression, simply stating a fact. "I’m not the one doing it anyway. ANYWAY, you have to shake that heavy thing to activate it. Got it? Got it. If you aren't there in six hours, I'll take it as an answer that you're on the Observer's side—and that means war, your death, blah blah blah. So I suggest you just show up. You can even leave right after. No one's going to brainwash you... Well, maybe just a little. By the way, the Observer doesn't know about this place, so you can go there safely without blocking him immediately."

  The air shimmered, and the sensation of another presence vanished instantly. Eni was left alone under the carcass of the fallen lord. She quickly tucked the paper and the strange artifact beneath the hem of her uniform.

  About ten minutes passed before the Voice in her head stirred again. It sounded apologetic, possessing a sort of fatherly sympathy.

  "Oh, Eni, forgive me... Lately... I've been very busy. So much work."

  Eni finally shoved Quivertertar's body aside and stood up slowly, stretching her cramped muscles. She carefully moved the artifact and the map into a deep pocket, pretending she was merely adjusting her clothes.

  "I didn't think you ever had things to do," she replied calmly, testing the strength of her grip. Her hands obeyed perfectly—regeneration had completed its work.

  The Voice responded cheerfully:

  "Hah, you thought?! I didn't expect that from you! You're becoming quite perceptive." The Observer's tone turned solemn. "I am glad you defeated him. It was a great battle. But... I think before you continue your journey to new heights, you should... rest in the city? And bring that psycho's head with you. The city will be overjoyed at the fall of a tyrant! You need recognition, Eni."

  Eni followed the advice. She approached Quivertertar's headless body, finished what she had started, and, carrying her trophy, headed toward the city gates. When she entered the main square, holding the Crimson Lord's head by the hair, the bustling city fell instantly silent. The faces of the people turned solemn, almost stony. A tension hung in the air that was impossible to put into words.

  However, the reaction was swift. Eni was not judged or driven away. On the contrary, she was given the best room in the most expensive tavern; the table groaned under the weight of exquisite food, and the proprietor simply bowed in silence, refusing to take her money. Eni sat by the window, staring out at the empty night square. The city did not celebrate loudly; it held its breath in a heavy state of anticipation, realizing that the era of dictatorship had ended, but a total unknown lay ahead.

  The note with the coordinates burned against her skin in her pocket. She had less than six hours to decide whom she trusted less: the Voice, who called itself her guide, or the Archons, who offered "trauma therapy" in the company of a fallen seraphim.