Chapter 11: 10: Return Home

The two girls snapped around to see a bloody and broken looking Lyrica clothes torn and cut, holding the soon to be lifeless body of Lara, neck slit open by the blade held in her hand. She looked at Lara a bit sad, "I am sorry to me. And sorry you'll be forgotten. In the next I hope you find happiness with them."

"Wha- huh- what! How are you alive?"

"Well, I am a bit better made than most humans. Besides, I know how this usually goes. Now, say you'll take Lyrica's head would you?"

"It doesn’t matter, I will take your head here."

"Lyrica is right again you are such a predictable girl. This won't matter anyways."

"Oh? How so?"

"It's not fun to reveal such things too early. So, go ahead. Take that blade and do to me, what your mother did to the Prototheas. Dog of Cysgod." Lyrica glared at Deidre, taunting her. Leannan was perplexed. Something clearly was wrong. Why would Lyrica if she was alive come back and kill Lara, why would she be talking in third person? And the way she was speaking it was like she had been expecting this. Perhaps she should-

 But at this point Deidre had her blade drawn and slammed it through the skull and body of Lyrica. Each side slumped and a feeling wretched inside of Leannan. She turned away from the corpse and towards bloodied Deidre.

"Ah! Fuck that felt good! It's so much more fun when you actually get to kill your target."

"Was it necessary to bisect her?"

"Yes, yes it was. Come on, the exit's ahead. Time to go home."

"What about Lara?" Leannan asked.

"Who?"

Leannan blinked. Who indeed? In fact, the name of the woman she had just killed was also blurry in her mind. She shook her head. "I don't know."

Leannan looked back to the corpse, the back of one half was exposed. She almost thought she saw it glow, but before she could Deidre grabbed her arm and dragged her out. Leannan swore she could see tears being held back in her friend's eyes despite that smile she wore.

A minute later two hooded figures entered the room from opposite sides

"Alas, poor Lara. And the Lara from here as well."

"Oh, twins. Why are you here?"

"I wanted to see if my Lyrica died. Thankfully it was just the Lara she keeps on hand."

"When did she even have the time to switch with her?"

"Why are you asking an enemy?"

"Because you've been spying on her this time around."

"I prefer observing."

"Whatever. I hate that I can't deal with you here and now." The figure shook her head. "Tell me, do you think you'll succeed this time?"

"I always think I will. After all, eventually I will."

"Not as long as our boss is here."

"Yes, yes. Hazel. Always such a thorn. But, the next time we dance, who says the music will remain the same?"

"I only care that Lyrica makes it with me to it." She looked over at the corpse, which had begun to melt into a weird goop. "Though I do hope we can avoid this."

"Yes that is what happens when you have rotten meat to use for the homunculus."

"Don't you have somewhere to be? Some children to murder?"

"That is the me from here. I haven't killed a child in a while. Well, not on purpose."

"Oh, my fuck. Oh, my fucking fuck." The figure pointed a blade at her opposite.

"Rude. Lyrica and the other one would never be this rude to me."

"I am not as nice as them, Zurah."

"Yes, and I do not care for you as much as them. But killing you now, would be a waste, wouldn't it?"

"Your funeral." The figure lowered her blade, "Later."

"Later." Zurah smiled drawing runes in the air with her finger. A ring of them formed and she disappeared in them.

The figure shook her head and tapped her head. A rune glowed and then she spoke,

"Isolde. Laras are gone."

"Oh? I take it Deidre bisected someone then?"

"Yes."

"And my favorite of the Galahad adoptees, where is she?"

"Probably back in Aria waiting to scare me. Are we still sending her to the Capital?"

"Yes, that is how the script is going this time. Besides, I love the way she interacts with Deidre so much. Her and Lara and Deidre are such a cute bunch. Sad both are dead."

"That is still so weird that you ship people you know."

"To me, they aren't people I know. They are versions of them. This is isn't my Deidre or Lara."

"Okay but the implication."

"Lara isn't even related to Lyrica. She's just Ci's's little way of making Deidre loyal since she used to leave to find Lyrica when she was her only friend. Besides, at this point she's not related to anyone."

"Wow, that's sad. So what about our Lara?"

"Oh, she's not into that stuff. She's more of an extreme version of Brio but a girl."

"Like Brio?"

"Yea. Laras, the other Lara's didn't really have an interest in such things until a hundred or so ago."

"So, that can differ between resets?"

"Lara is a creation, she's different every time. For example, this one was two inches taller than the average. Not sure why they made her taller, certainly didn't help with the dysphoria."

"Neat. How are things with you?"

"Fine. The prince is here this time, so one of you or Deidre isn't coming on the trip."

"Right. I hope it's me, I don't want to fight myself."

Isolde laughed, "Yes, Leannan. But I think Lyrica would prefer it to be Deidre."

"Does she actually like her? All she does is complain about her."

"Oh, and do you actually like Mors?"

"I wish I was the one bisected."

"Dear, don't jest or that might come true. And yes. A bit too much for how often the earliest attempts ended with them killing each other. But I guess that's something youth can see past easier. Now I need to go dear. Bye-bye."

"Bye." She placed the finger to the rune and focused until it stopped glowing. It was time to go and find her friend before she tried to leave without her.

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Leannan coughed and vomited on the porch of the target's house. Leannan had remembered the books and had gotten Deidre to find it for her to pillage. "What the fuck. Why is that room covered in magic?"

Deidre was laughing, "I can't believe you breathed in." 

"I was hallucinating!"

"Sure, sure. Though... weird that room was covered in magic. I don't remember the target having time to do that before we left."

"Well clearly the target did."

"You get the books you wanted?"

"I grabbed some. How are you fine?"

"Well, I wasn't in the room and when I saw you being weird, I held my breath."

"I could have died."

"But you didn't. Come on, the carriage is waiting." Deidre said before looking back at the room. It was weird, that it was like that. Surely Lyr- ugh... The target had no reason to- She shook her head. The two of them went below. Mors and Rabo appeared from the bathroom as they disappeared. Mors held the promised Key in her hand.

"Why were those two here?"

"Well from those books they had, I'd say books Lady Doch."

Mors glared at her servant. "Not what I meant."

"Well, anyways, if someone hadn't wanted a bath, they wouldn't have been a concern.'

"And continue to bear the filth of the woods?"

"This is someone else's house."

"From the discussions of those two, it was the sister of Brio and she's dead."

"Why did the sister of Brio have a Key in her house's crawlspace?"

Mors glanced at Rabo. "And why did that girl know of it?"

"Yes, that is curious. Perhaps more is afoot here than we are privy too, my lady."

Mors nodded. The mission was over. Time to go.

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Three days passed, and Brio and Salem greeted the returning Deidre and Leannan. They bowed before the prince. 

"Greetings Prince Salem. I am Deidre Kaga, and this is Leannan Sioga."

"Rise, Lady Kaga, Lady Sioga."

Brio smiled. "I take it those missions went well."

"If you mean we have a Key and the target is dead then yes. Not well though. They sure can climb a cliff after falling a hundred feet in a hurry while grievously injured." Deidre replied, not looking at anyone, but staring at the nearby wall, frowning a little.

Salem looked at them, "Were you trying to kill a demon?" At that Deidre had a look of pain jolt across her face.

"Nah, just a target we were sent to kill. Something Brioche could never do." Leannan replied.

"Ugh, really! Don't tell me Deidre told you my full name."

"Ah, come on, I think it's cute."

Brio glanced around, "Where is the other one, I sent with you."

"Who?" Deidre asked, feeling sadder.

"Right, I am unsure what I was thinking of.  Leannan, glad to have you in the circle." He shook his head, trying to get his head on straight.

"I am honored to be allowed this privilege, High Defender."

"Of course." Brio let himself relax, "Any issues during the mission, any oddities?"

"No, none. Ah well, the target did spill a large amount of magic in a book room, and seemed to know of our mission. But nothing really weird."

"Hmm, well I guess someone related to me would be able to tell the intentions of people like you." He frowned, "Er, I mean most people. What is with me today?"

Deidre scowled, "Eh? What are you trying to say, Brio?"

"You can't spin a convincing lie to save your lives."

The quartet began to walk, the two most acquainted arguing all the while. The prince and Leannan spoke not, preferring to just stare awkwardly at the Deidre and Brio as they conversed among the two of themselves. 

The four passed by wandering nobles, on their ways to many of the administrative offices in this wing of the main building used for the governance of the Empire. They gave a polite nod of greeting towards the High Defender and Prince when they saw them but nothing more. They needed to be places and so did the four. They continued forth until they came to the same room that Brio had been in the other day. Today only Isolde was in the room.

"Ah, there he is. Prince Arid Bai-ar Salem. It's an honor to meet you. I am Isolde, the Ravenpact. And I see that Leannan has joined us in the light of Cysgod."

"It is an honor, Ravenpact. To be honest I believed you to be a myth."

"I suppose I haven't been getting out much lately, but I'm not old enough to be a myth."

Brio shook his head. "Lady Isolde, we are simply here to inscribe the pact marks on Leannan, the Prince and Deidre."

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"Yeah, yeah. You can wait. It's not like it's gonna hurt the results." Isolde sighed and walked over to the wall. She pressed a brick in and from her left the wall slid out like a drawer. The mage fumbled around in it for a bit, the sound of metal against metal against stone echoing in the large and nearly empty chamber. Finally, she pulled out a metal rood with one flattened end. That end was covered in too many runes to count, so densely packed together that it became hard to read. Isolde returned to the quartet, brand in hand.

"This is the Brand of the Unbreakable Pact. Once it is on someone, they can't break the pact they made under it, or their arm will be burned off. The pact we ask of you is simple: 'Follow the will of Cysgod and bring glory to the empire using the Dreamer.' Do you accept?"

The three unbranded nodded. Leannan raised her hand, "What about Brio?"

"He's already gotten it. Cried like a baby, if you care to mock him."

Brio glared, "Okay, who's getting branded first?"

Prince Salem stepped forward. "As the only royalty here, I think it best if I set an example and take the first branding."

Isolde smiled, "Very well. Brioche, be a dear and heat the brand up."

Brio rolled his eyes, but a small stream of magic was already at his finger drawing into a rune against the metal of the brand. After finishing the brand began to glow, suddenly turning as bright as if it had been plunged into a raging inferno. As it hit Salem hand he bit his lips, drawing blood as he tried to ignore the searing pain as the pact burned itself into him. It only took a few seconds but to the prince it took hours, he had not felt pain like that in his privileged life before. He stumbled back to Brio, holding his wrist and staring at his still fresh burn wound.

Deidre was next. She took the branding extremely well, showing no signs of pain or discomfort. It unnerved the prince a little to watch her yawn in the middle of it, like the unbearable pain he had experienced was nothing more than a slight pinch to her. She didn't even take notice of her new wound as she rejoined Brio and Salem.

Leannan was last. She nervously held her hand palm down against the table, slightly shaking as the hot iron approached. As it did she braced herself. She felt an intense fiery pain for a few seconds than felt the iron lift off. She tried to move her hand away but was stopped by Isolde who held her hand still and pressed harder. The pain began to make tears well up in her eyes as the heat and pressure bore down on her hand. Soon though that ended too. She moved her hand away faster than the witch could react and stared blankly. Her hand was unburned. That was good.

... Wait.

"Huh?" Came the instinctive cry of shock from Leannan.

"Hmm, that surprise seemed genuine, so I suppose whatever occurrence you are involved in that's preventing the pact being formed in the first place is one you are unaware of."

"Isolde, what's going on?"
"For some reason Leannan cannot receive that pact. This is usually only the case if one never meant to follow the pact to begin with or already has one active pact. This appears to be a unique case. Perhaps something you did retrieving the keys caused this. Deidre, Leannan. Come with me, I want to interrogate the two of you." Isolde gave them no choice grabbing their arms and dragging them out of the room.

Brio turned back to Salem. "Should we go get lunch?"

"Yeah, and some ice for this burn."

Brio nodded and the two went forth for food and burn aid.

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Lyrica squeezed her legs together to get her horse to pick up the pace. It was a young painted horse she had traded for healing a farmer's lame leg. Leannan was ahead of her. Her horse was one she had acquired a fair while back, so the issues of being newly acquainted were not effecting her as much as Lyrica and her horse which she had given the name Sonia. Sonia begrudgingly moved faster, unused to the weight of a rider and of a rudimentary saddle. Lyrica had learned how to ride twice, once by Ys as a child and later as part of her training in the capital. Of course both of those were on horse used to rides and neither had the horrid looking and feeling saddle that she had cobbled together. It didn't seem to bother Sonia but it dug into Lyrica's thighs a bit too much for her to get comfortable, leading to a lot of fidgeting which did concern the horse, though not enough to act on any impulses. 

Sonia would try to move from the stone path to the more agreeable grassy fields, where the horse would then try to eat the greenery instead of moving along. Eventually after many stops, Lyrica pulled up next to a waiting Leannan.

"I could have made it to the Tune Somnia by now, you know."

"I could have made it while waiting for you to find me in Aria."

"Why didn't you?"

"I don't like being alone."

"So, why don't you not go to the capital this time?"

"Because Hazel says I have to. And there's no arguing the big details with her."

"Have you ever tried? She seems nice enough."

"Oh, my sweet summer Leannan, that is because you are still in double digits."

Leannan rolled her eyes. "Or maybe someone keeps going off script."

"Every actress gets bored playing the same role eventually."

"Only bad ones."

"Perhaps I should not let you into the next play we do, Leannan."

Leannan gave a look to Lyrica that said, "I swear if I didn't care to be alive, I would walk away from you and not do my job."

"So, how you think the boss is doing?" She asked.

"Better than us probably."

"Surely. I mean all she's doing is making sure the Ruskalykan revolution is delayed enough for the army to come to Tune Somnia. It can't be that hard?"

"It is Ruskalyka, you know how they are."

Lyrica tapped her horse and caught up to Leannan.. Leannan turned to Lyrica, "I really don't get why we need to do this when we all know it's going to reset."

"Better to set the stage now just in case."

"Still doesn't make it make logistical sense. And besides regardless I won't have stuff to do until the rest of them go to it."

"You'll have plenty of things to do, Leannan."

"For our goal?"

"Well, no. Not until Tune Somnia is used. I meant more like read a book or something."

Leannan sighed, "I knew it. I better make sure I don't die of boredom."

"What? Aren't you excited to wait for everyone else to show up just so we can all fail once again?" Lyrica asked rolling her eyes.

"No. Are you sure you can't stay with me. I was being serious with the dying of boredom."

"What, do you want me to entertain you, or something?"

Leannan smiled, "I know you'd only entertain Deidre, big sister."

Lyrica grew red and began to stammer, "I-I-I di- fu- Not like that!" She screamed before having her horse trot ahead to avoid dealing with Leannan.

Leannan laughed, happy that Lyrica had let her have that easy attack. She was cute when she finally got a taste of the teasing she was usually dishing out. Usually only Isolde could consistently do it, so it only made this one sweeter. 

They moved forward upon the path, towards the Tune Somnia.

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Mors sighed as the carriage arrived at the disgustingly ornate gate of her parents' estate. Rabo cleaned his gun, one with a small caster used to ensure the wounds would not heal so easily. The guards in the tower signaled to the other guards to slide open the metal art piece. The carriage slid along the paved stone path, as the slave maintained greenery and grass lined their entrance, not a leaf out of place, disgustingly fake and pointless. Mors glanced past them to the gardens where she could see the servants out, as always attending to the maze of hedges in the full brunt of the elements, even today when the air had a chill that forwarned of the freezing rain that was so common in this part of Ruskalyka. She cast her eyes away again. Pointless. 

The carriage arrived at the front doors of the large mansion, and out hopped the two spies. Rabo went to grab their luggage as Mors entered her home, past the bowing maids and butlers. It had been about two weeks since they had left, and five days since they had gotten the key to the Tune Somnia. Of course that had been reported to the royal family, and she had been recalled post-haste. If it wasn't for the stamina and speed of Ruskalykan Horses she'd not be back yet, but thanks to the wonders of breeding and evolution, here she was back in her least favorite place to be. As she entered the entrance hall she heard her mother's voice greet her from above. "Ah, Mors. Welcome back. You have done our great state an immense favor. With that key we shall be able to achieve great things."

Mors didn't look up, "Thank you, mother." She gave a half-hearted curtsey and continued on.

"Father and I expect you at dinner at six."

Mors didn't reply, just walked towards the hall which held her room. After unlocking it, she came inside and fell heavy onto the pillow flooded bed. This place might be hell to her... but she had to admit the bed was comfy. Almost too so. She felt like she was likely to drown in the soft down of her pillows if she wasn't careful, trapped forever in a state of sleepy bliss. 

Mors would be happy to leave as soon as possible. Even if this bed was comfortable, she felt she slept better on the hard ground, with only a flimsy tent between her and the elements. 

The hours passed as she looked at the ceiling of her room without actually seeing anything, brain almost devoid of any thoughts, like she had entered a state of meditation, though in reality she had just zoned out to the point where she wasn't even aware she hadn't been thinking. So when the maid came to help her dress for supper she felt like she had been tossed off a cliff, so sudden was her return to a normal state of consciousness. 

In a groggy state, she let the maids dress her. A corset tightly wound, heavy makeup to make her face appear white and her hair done in a classical Ruskalykan style, with a Ruskalykan Dinner Dress, with its large and long sleeves and sharp shoulders with a skirt that was lower in front than the back. Mors hated it.

The dining room was large and decorated with the heads of animals Mors's father had killed on any one of his numerous hunts, their blank marble eyes staring at the table, shaming them for eating the meat of their also slain families. 

"Morsdea, welcome back. I am proud of the service you have done for our great nation. Our continued prosperity have almost been guaranteed on the back of your work." Her father greeted her.  

Mors grunted, pulling out her chair and slouching down in it. "Father, Mother." She acknowledged their existence before attempting to ignore them once more.

"Those Imperial fools have no clue of what our great land has prepared. The Dreamer she will make sure our place in this world is solidified." Her father said, perhaps trying to praise her again. Or perhaps just to stroke his ego.

Mors began to silently, in terms of words spoken not in noise (which were not only loud but quite disgusting), wanting dinner to be over faster. Her mother's face was twisted in disgust. "Must you be such an animal when you eat, Morsdea."

"Apologies mother, but the cooking is always too delicious to eat slowly."

"You know most would eat slower if the food was exceptional." 

"Guess I must be exceptional as well then." Mors replied.

"Morsdea, if you are done, you may be excused. The maids should have a bath drawn."

"We have heated plumbing, we don't need to draw a bath."

"Nonsense, why do for yourself what you can make others do for you? Besides it's their job, and it wouldn't be fair to take that from them."

Mors wanted to reply with some quip, but in her own self-interest decided against it, before standing up and taking leave of the dining room. Mors dragged a middle finger against the yellow wallpaper, etching a thin white line on it that no one would notice unless they were her parents. She knew the servants would be forced to pay and work much more than was necessary to repair such and insignificant mark upon the wall but at the current moment the thought of causing mother and father discomfort was much more at the forefront of her mind. She walked into the overly sized bathroom, and excused her maids as she undressed and soaked in the tub. 

Thoughts of what she had done etched in her brain. She was sure either the mission would turn out fruitless or Rabo would "betray" her and take the key for his own purposes, and yet neither had happened. Still it was likely she would be brought to the Tune Somnia herself, though to make that dream she had a reality would be a near impossibility unless she was willing to die for it and that she was not. She didn't lack the resolve to, it was just to her the young shouldn't be martyrs, but older generations. Tales of evil knights and tsars that when faced with a chance to redeem themselves by death and give hope to those future generations that she had devoured in childhood had no doubt helped to solidify her position on who should die for a cause. A child dying only causes outrage, the death of the mentor causes those left behind to become stronger and carry on their ideas to even more people. That being said for those she wished to inspire her death would be meaningless except to cause celebration. After all a mouse does not cry for the loss of a cat.

She sank lower beneath the water feeling herself relax just the tiniest bit. She pour some liquid into the tub, and watched as bubbles began to rise and overtake her. What was once clear water was invisible beneath mountains of white. She chuckled as she piled them up on her neck and shoulders until she looked like she had stolen the mane of an albino lion. She wondered if a lion would be unable to make up their mind on their convictions like she was. Did they ever feel regret of events yet to come or from actions they did not themselves commit? 

She finished her bath and got out, drying off before wrapping herself in several towels to dry as she walked back to her room. As she entered, she dressed herself in a long sleeved nightdress, before laying upon her uncomfortably comfortable bed, waiting until she could hear the soft chimes of the clock, before standing up and walking over to a wall. She put on the slippers she lay next to it and pushed on a brick, which slid in and then with some effort pushed the hidden door inward and to the left as quietly and an quickly as she could.

She bent over slightly as she began to traverse the darkened passageway, at a pace that comes with repeated travel, not stopping to feel the walls or wonder which turn to take. She descended slowly, sinking lower and lower into the mansion until she was sure to be below even the servant quarters in the lower basement. The dimmest light began to pour from some missing bricks, and she walked over them pressing her face against them to see what lay beyond them.

Below her was a chamber, round and dusty, full of dirtied and tired looking people. A single man stood upon a makeshift podium and stool, as he began to address the congregation. "Brothers, Sisters, Comrades. I thank you for joining here tonight. I know for us of this branch it has been a while since we met under official capacity, and the news of our brethren and their plights have lost us some of our flock out of fear understandable and irrational, but for those who have stayed, I offer to you the thanks of not only myself, not only the thanks of your comrades, but the thanks of all those crushed under the oppression of those who use their power to crush and control that which they view as their lesser. Now, to begin the meeting, I wish to have our brave comrade speak of the news that he himself was a part of. Rabo, if you'd please." The speaker moved aside and bowed as Rabo walked up to the podium.

Rabo coughed and then began, "Good evening. I will not introduce myself, I'm sure you know who I am- after all I am technically the boss of most of you." The crowd gave a chuckle. "But at this moment I am just the deliverer of the news. The daughter Doch and I discovered and gave to the Lord and Lady a key to the Tune Somnia. I was unable to steal it from her, nor was I able to retrieve an extra for our own use. For that I must apologize. However, I doubt the daughter Doch agrees with her parent's dream, if that helps anyone sleep better."

A voice spoke, "Not really, even if being of a younger generation she is more open to change and our pleas, even if they, that is the leaders of our leaders, invite her as they are likely to, what can she do while surrounded by three to five other people making the same wish? I sincerely doubt the rich girl has the stomach to die for another."

Another voice responded, "Of course not, and I don't blame her. The youths always fear death the most. Despite all of the young ones being the best for causing the people to rally with their deaths, they always leave noble sacrifices up to us elder folk.

A young voice scoffed, "Why have anyone die? What point is there to the waste of life? Those who word we followed wished for the revolution to be as bloodless as possible."

The speaker now raised his voice, "That was an idealized view on how the upper class worked and how easily they could be scared into giving up some power, but in reality there will be blood."

Rabo coughed, "Continuing on, The Native People also have a key," a voice in the crowded yelled out in support, followed by applause, "and the Empire." The crowd booed loudly.

The second voice spoke again, "I heard there were four keys?"

Rabo nodded, "Yes. As for the key missing, well I am not one for baseless speculation, but we only have our- or rather the Key help by the Royalty is only with them because an individual told us where one was hidden in the house of a girl in the city near it. What the relationship is between them or what faction they belong to is unknown, but I will assume a forth key, if one exists, would lay in their hands."

"An unknown variable. Hmmm. Rabo, if you would please stay behind to help discuss our plans moving forward. The rest of you should get back and rest, tomorrow is gonna be big- after all it is a holiday." The speaker said.

The crowd dispersed, climbing up a flight of stairs almost undetectable in the dim of the subterranean space. A few older looking men, Rabo and the speaker left into a small room to the side. 

Mors stood up and began walking back. Nothing new, nothing she didn't already know. She closed the wall behind her as she retired to bed for the final time that evening.

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Isolde shook her head, as she sipped on the wine delivered by her guest. "Is that so?"

"Unfortunately, yes. I take it you'll help her?"

"Of course, though since that one will be here, forgive me if I give them time for a lover's quarrel."

"Iso."

"Oh, come Hazel, have some humor. The two deserve it, don't they? Three really, but that's not a choice still. "

"About my mission? Never. Levity leads to failure to having to reset and try again. I am sure you're as tired of it as I am."

"I would gander that you'd be more tired, Hazel. You've been at this the longest."

"Yes... I suppose I am." Hazel sipped upon her wine, her curly black hair and dark purple skin making the red liquid that dribbled down her lips stand out more.

"Does the dream matter?"

"For the other three? No, though if the RRF gets their wish it will speed along some things. All that matters is our own wish."

"Well, then will you be staying the night?"

"No. I have business to attend to."

"What path this time?"

"The Goddess fools are in Ruskalyka."

"Oooh, well stay safe."

"If I don't this conversation wouldn't matter." Hazel said before leaving Isolde's chambers. 

Isolde reclined in her chair. At least she would see her other favorite apprentice this time around. Maybe she could even play matchmaker and get her and her only living crush together. Enemies to lovers was one of Isolde's favorite tropes and adding another friend to the beginning only made it better in her eyes. If next world let her, she was going to play matchmaker even harder.

She sighed holding up a flask in which floated an object, a glint in the middle of an empty glass shell. Their Lara was always so uncaring about her own life during these resets. Well then again, all Larases were for the first few dozen. Ci'sgo'tte fixed her programming eventually, but still. She shook her head. "You ruined a perfectly good excuse to get this you into my matchmaking action, dear." The object flashed a bit. 

"Yes, yes. Your sister in the next one will have to do. Now rest, we don't need you failing here."

 She flipped a switch to her side and her candles went out one by one until she was left in complete and utter darkness. All the better to dream in.

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