Trix returned to the hill.
Water, a cosmic traveler, settled on her human shell as snowflakes. Upon touching the warmth of her skin, it melted, bearing witness to the heat of all she felt.
Alarms sounded in the distance. Trix lit a cigarette. Retrieved her rifle. Called Ksava. Then flew to the mercenaries' outpost.
Beneath the full moon, she raised her head and howled, joined by the she-wolves. Around her, the pack feasted on the remains of Hedeon and Rurik.
Their blood stained the snow. Hers still pulsed. Warm. Alive. Wild.
S-2879 • L11 Irraluna • D18 Libesi
"Irraluna radiates light in a broad curve. Libesi releases the ripened thread. The tide traces silver in a living return. The story continues whole, in a deep glow."
Two days later, an administrator from the Vorovskoy mir contacted her.
The leader was dead.
According to the instructions Hedeon had left in his will, Trix was to take his place as Matka.
Hedeon, huh, Saymon? Mraz', you've landed me in some shit.
She accepted, reluctantly.
They implanted a nanochip in her cheek, giving her immediate access to the Vorovskoy mir's worldwide network.
Her commands could now reach every branch of the organization, especially the Nochnoy Prestol, the Throne of Night, the center of the Russian underworld.
Trix laid her head on the pillow. She picked up her phone and called Kiara, without a thought for the time difference. The android never made video calls. But hearing her voice was enough.
"What the fuck do you want?"
Trix smiled. Maybe having a heart was a good thing. It felt nice when it fluttered like that. "Saw you got I'll Devour You. I tho' of you when I handed it over to Berg. Asked him to give it to you as a gift."
"He sold it to me, that bastard."
"That svoloch. Just you wait. Either way, consider it a gift."
"Yeah, whatever. That all?"
"I guess so. I just wanted…"
"Then go fuck yourself. I'm fucking busy."
Trix's grin widened. Her playful Maiden whispered a reply to her. "Only if you do it."
"Do what, damn it?"
Trix chuckled.
"I gotta go. We'll talk later." She hung up.
But Kiara's laughter lingered inside her. For a moment, even the Vorovskoy mir seemed to fall silent. There were no orders. No demands. No weight of an entire organization. Only that intimate warmth burning in Trix's chest.
Maybe that was it, after all. A spark in the void. A heated chaos.
And if the world ended tomorrow, she would know:
The throne was just a chair. The flame—that was hers.
Trix allowed herself a smile.
And went to sleep smiling.