Buried in the wreckage of a Compound meant to imprison her, Faine awakens a shell of her former self. With no memories and a growing taste for revenge, she is given the ultimate decision.
She must save the city, or herself.
Round One 》✅️ 2k 》✅️
R...
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Intoxication would have suited her better.
Faine woke to the foreign room she'd left, only to realize where she was. Swaddled in towels like an infant, her body had been moved to the headboard and propped gently with a trash can on the floor beside her. She vaguely remembered the vomiting, the screaming, and the seizures.
A faint part of her recalled Leighton muttering something about sleeping in the armchair as she drifted in and out of consciousness.
But there he was not.
Her throat burned with dry bile, searing in sync with her mind when she dared clear her throat.
Despite the hellish taste, Faine would've done a great deal for a tonic to wash away the taste of puke. More even for breakfast.
Recollections she didn't have before surfaced in her mind.
She found herself thinking about her childhood, lingering first on her family cat and then drifting to the way her parents had died in an attack on the capital, Eolin. Naisene had taken her in after that when she was only sixteen.
Twenty-seven.
She was only twenty-seven now.
And Naisene had destroyed the Crimion Compound in an effort to extinguish Trace. Sacrificing them all.
Her stomach flipped and she lifted her chin to the ceiling, trying to pinch back the nausea.
She'd once lived in this room, in this house. Holding up with Saesin when she'd learned Naisene was going to plant spies in the Compound, the first sign they didn't truly grasp how bad the prison had become.
Doubts were an understatement.
Faine knew Naisene was up to something, knew there was something terribly wrong brewing in headquarters when she found herself in that conference.
She swallowed another uncomfortable wave of bile and shook her head.
Fractured.
Each memory bled in and out of one another, with so many holes burned away.
Without Naisene looking for Trace, justice would never be served, but perhaps her suspicions would be confirmed. They were grooming her for something, she'd simply lacked the pieces to the puzzle.
Faine lifted the towel to her nose and took a deep breath, concentrating on the sensation of cotton against her nose. Why else would a massive military force blow up two sides of a coin, unless they were the same.
Unless Naisene worked for Trace.
Any survivors would've been able to prove it.
With Trace in the wind and Naisene missing, there would be no one and nothing to protect the island from what came next.
