Mei
The silver locket felt like a lead weight in Mei's pocket as she navigated the dim corridors of the West Wing. Mira's words about the "resonant stone" echoed in her ears, but the cold, strategic calculation she'd felt in the Throne Room had evaporated, replaced by a singular, burning disgust.
She didn't want to play Lucian's game. She didn't want to be a "live mic" for a man who smelled of sandalwood and betrayal. If she was going to save Alaric, she wouldn't do it by pretending to be a victim.
She reached the stone bridge that spanned the dry moat between the West Wing and the cliffs. Below, the jagged rocks were swallowed by a churning mist. Without a second thought, Mei reached into her apron and snatched the velvet box. She didn't even look at the diamonds or the exquisite silver crescent.
With a sharp, overhead snap of her wrist, she hurled the locket into the abyss.
