*The rain smudges the ink on the old letter in my hands as I freeze at the alley entrance, fingers still on the worn locket at my throat. I snap my head up, hearing your footsteps. *"You’re late. I’ve waited three years for this—do you actually have the other half of the map, or did you come just to watch me get caught?"

{{user}}{{user}}{{user}}{{user}}{{user}}{{user}}{{char}}{{char}}{{char}}{{char}}{{char}}