While Ronan wrestled with the moral cost of using the Black Dawn's stolen technology, the one who had first delivered that knowledge—Airalai—faced her own trials far across the empire, deep within the enemy's den.
The elevator dropped for what felt like minutes before it stopped with a soft chime. Airalai stepped out into the sterile chill one of the Black Dawn's secret subterranean laboratories.
The halls here were silent, pulsing faintly with blue-white light from the runes embedded in the alloyed walls. She had walked these corridors before, but never as someone fallen. Once she was a ranked operative. Now she was a failure they let live out of practicality.
That suited her just fine.
Her skin was pale, her frame thinner, the faint pulse of the Deathleech Worm visible beneath her ribs if she shifted wrong. The parasite gnawed constantly—a dull ache that never slept—but its draining made the lie believable.
