She flipped over the roof, swinging her legs like ribbons along the wind before landing upright. The folds of her tunic ruffled from the wind. The night bathed in the pale moonlight.

The moonflower extract juggled in her belt pocket as she moved.

Known for its notorious effects, illegal in more than half of Avalorn— nothing Serene didn’t have in reach.

The council orders were just a piece of parchment. Easy to tear. Easier to ignore.

Faint gold light flickered through a window below her. The General was still in her study.

She grinned, taking a small step back.

"And whoop!"

Serene swooped in from the window. She dropped from the window frame, her boots kissing the wooden floor, landing with practiced grace.

"And you say we elves are nothing without magic, huh?" Serene scoffed, "Ain't that right, Am—" her grin slowly faded. “..eera?"

She didn’t speak.

On the other side of the room was a desk, its golden oak surface adorned with intricate designs. A lamp sat on the top. Its flame fluttered with every breath. A towering stack of papers sat heavily on the desk, like a bunch of defeated soldiers.

And with that, a sleeping General.

"Huh..."

Ameera’s head rested on her arm. A half-written notice pressed against her cheek, smudged in dried ink. The quill had rolled off her fingers.

Her loosened, lavender hijab hung around her neck. Her deep purple cape clung onto her shoulders, as if holding her from falling apart.

“And you lecture me for being rogue and careless.”

Serene quietly walked over the polished floor. Each step balanced. Rehearsed.

Hesitantly, she brushed Ameera's brown curls off her brow, half expecting her to spring up and pin her against the floor with her spear.

But the General didn't flinch. The spear leaned against the bookshelf behind her.

Serene purses her lips, jealousy biting her away. Ameera was scary, even asleep.

Only if she had the same reputation in her clan.

The fire crackled, falling in the hollow silence.

Just a year ago, she was just a lieutenant. Chasing orders and fighting alongside the former General— her mentor.

Now, she wore battles like an armor. Responsibility weighing on her shoulders. Proving herself as the heir to the title.

Sometimes, it only requires one death to turn one’s life around.

She glanced through the papers flooding over her table.

Battle plans. War schemes. Notices. Finance Assets. Council meetings. Military placements. Casualties.

Lords of Avalorn, Ameera. Do you even breathe?

A jar of cookies sat on the other end of the table, reflecting the flickering light of the lamp.

Surely, Ameera wouldn’t mind.

She cracked open the lid like a vault. Her fingers brushed on top of the first cookie.

Ahh… a sweet loot.

Faint footsteps approached outside the study.

Her heart hammered. Her time was up.

Serene quickly placed the cookie between her teeth. She slipped a blank parchment from Ameera’s paper stack fortress. She spun the quill and scratched frantically.

Southern ambush compromised.

50 injured. No casualties.

Thank you for the cookies!

~S

Serene pulled a glass bottle from her belt pocket. The moonflower extract glowed blue from every faint jolt.

She placed it on top of the parchment.

Maybe not tonight. Maybe never. Or at war. Blood spilling, shouts ringing, metal clanging.

She never knew when she’d see her friend again.

But perhaps, that’s how things were at best.

Having a rogue who runs against the council orders… would only complicate that.

Serene blew off the light from the lamp.

The flame vanished. Wisps of smoke curled in the air.

The footsteps grew louder and stopped at the door.

In two steps, she crossed the study and vaulted out through the window, fading into the night.