[Sara POV] Year 5, Day 139

  The desert stretched endlessly below Sara. Hot. Empty. Perfect for searching.

  [Grid pattern. Section by section. Systematic. Professional. Sara will find Chain eventually. Just needs to keep looking.]

  Sara had been at this for about two years now. Flying grid patterns across the Endless Sea of Sand. The perfect place where "nobody looks"—vast, empty, endless. Sara would search every grain of sand if needed.

  Nothing yet. But Sara was patient. Sara had centuries of patience.

  She descended to another unmarked location. Random dune. Nothing special. Just another square in the grid to check.

  Her talons hit sand. Started digging. Psychokinesis helping—moving a few tons of sand at once. Not much. But enough to make excavation faster.

  [Dig. Search. Move to next location. Repeat. Eventually Sara will find it. Eventually Sara will make the dress sentient. Eventually Sara will have a friend who can talk back.]

  Something solid hit her talons. Buried deep.

  Sara pulled it out. Some kind of metal box. Ornate. Old. Corroded.

  She focused her harpy racial ability. The innate power to detect value. Quality. Strength. The ability that made harpies dominate the appraisal industry.

  Nothing.

  No reading. No response. No sense of value at all.

  [Unknown trash. Racial ability gives no effect. Not valuable. Not magical. Not important.]

  Sara thought for a second. Keep or throw away? In the end tossed it into Item Box. Sara never wasted things. Even unknown trash might be useful someday. Or at least interesting to examine later.

  She continued digging. Hours passed. Found more random items. Old pottery shards. Corroded weapons. Unidentifiable debris. All worthless according to her racial sense.

  [Desert full of garbage. Buried history. Dead civilizations. Sara just keeps digging through their trash hoping to find divine artifact. Probably stupid. But Sara has nothing better to do anyway.]

  Then—sensation in her Item Box.

  Something breaking. Sharp. Sudden.

  Sara stopped digging immediately. Pulled out the box she kept for important communications. The one with numbered holes. Each hole containing a paired blink crystal.

  One crystal was shattered. Number seven. The poisoner lady's crystal.

  [Oh. She's trying to contact Sara. Must have news about dryad case. Or something else important.]

  Sara pulled out her message device. Magical communication tool. Works like written letters but instant.

  She pushed some mana into it. Light started blinking. Good. It works here. Sara has special model that works in more places. These things need those massive stone tower pillars to function. In desert usually need to fly around to find where works.

  Number on top showed 53128.421. Sara pre-paid lot of gold when got it. If goes to zero, stops working until pay more gold.

  Not secure. Anyone skilled enough can intercept. Whoever runs the tower network probably can read everything too. But still handy system. So Sara and poisoner lady keep messages vague. Careful. Professional.

  The message appeared:

  "Come visit my home when you can."

  Sara stared at the words. Read them again. Then again.

  [Home? As in... place of living? Her apartment? Her actual residence?]

  Sara's wings trembled slightly.

  [Nobody ever invites Sara to their home. NEVER. Not in five hundred years. People run from Sara. Hide from Sara. Tolerate Sara for business in neutral locations. But NEVER invite Sara to where they live.]

  [Is this trick? Trap? Did Sara read it wrong?]

  She sent careful reply: "Home means living place? Apartment?"

  Response came fast: "Yes. My apartment in Central. I'd like you to visit. When convenient for you."

  Sara stood there. In the middle of endless desert. Holding message device. Processing.

  [She invited Sara. To her home. Where she lives. Where she feels safe.]

  [This is... this is...]

  Sara couldn't identify the emotion. Too complex. Too new. Something between confusion and joy and disbelief.

  She moved, typing response before she could overthink it: "Coming today."

  Immediate reply: "I'll let the guard know. See you soon."

  Sara glanced at number on device. Now showed 52241.108. Nearly thousand gold less. No wonder regular people don't use these much. Paper mail lot cheaper. And in the desert it seems to eat gold even faster—Sara heard once it was something about the distance to those stone pillars. The farther from the closest one, the more gold it costs.

  [Sara already knows where Dominos lives. Sara is professional. Sara tracked her years ago. Fourth floor, building 47, Silver Garden District. Ms. Dominos—probably fake name, probably poison alias. But Sara doesn't care. Sara invited to home. Actual home. FIRST TIME EVER.]

  Sara launched into the sky. Wings beating hard. Fast. Faster than necessary.

  [Need to get there. Now. Before invitation withdrawn. Before she changes mind. Before Sara wakes up and realizes this is dream.]

  The flight to Central took hours. Sara flew at speed that would get her there at right time. Not too fast—didn't want to arrive too early and go crazy waiting. Not ballistic trajectory like when ordered dress—didn't want to arrive as terrifying missile. Just fast enough. Controlled.

  Central appeared on horizon. Massive city. Republic's heart.

  Sara descended more carefully this time. Avoiding air traffic. Staying quiet. Professional approach.

  Silver Garden District was easy to find. Wealthy area. Large buildings. Well-maintained. Places that try to avoid criminals. Screen who lives there.

  [Sara had followed poisoner lady before. Multiple times. Professional stalking. Need to know who you work with. Where they live. What they do. Standard agent procedures. Sara is professional.]

  [At work, poisoner lady looks like high-class courtesan. Someone whose angry pimp comes every moment and kills you. Or who kills you herself with a poison needle. Dangerous. Visible. Memorable.]

  [But in personal life? Simple servant dress. Disappearing into masses. Even the way she walks and behaves—exactly like Ealdred teaches. Definitely better than Sara can despite watching lessons for few years. Perfect maid mimicry. Professional disguise.]

  [Sara sure those in this building have no idea who she is. Think just some retired maid or servant. Nothing special. Nothing dangerous. First few times Sara tried to follow from work to find living place, actually lost track. The change was so fast. So extreme. So complete. Impressive.]

  Building 47 stood out. Nice construction. Expensive.

  Sara landed nearby. Not directly in front—didn't want to cause panic. Just... close enough to walk.

  [Need to not wreck everything. Need to fit in. Need to not mess up so badly poisoner lady has to find new home after Sara's visit. That would be bad. Very bad. Unacceptable.]

  She focused. Remembering techniques she'd learned. Practiced.

  First: toe-walking. The technique that maid taught her at seamstress's workshop. Walking on tips of talons. Keeping sharp parts elevated. Painful. Difficult. But functional.

  Second: the new technique. The one Sara learned watching the ancient horror. Float-walking.

  [Brief Flashback: Several Months Ago]

  Sara had been searching the deep desert. Far from civilization. Looking for places "where nobody looks."

  She'd found it. The ancient horror's home.

  Not den. Not lair. Just... place it existed when not hunting or wandering.

  Sara watched from distance. Far distance. Even Sara knew better than to approach SSS-rank entity uninvited.

  The horror had manifested human form. Female-looking. Perfect mimicry.

  White.

  That was Sara's first impression. White in a way that shouldn't exist. Not pale. Not light-colored. White like the concept had been forced into reality and shaped into human form.

  The skin—if it was skin—was white beyond albinism. Beyond any natural pigmentation. White like fresh snow, like bleached bone, like absence of all color concentrated into presence.

  The hair was white that glowed slightly. Not with light. With something else. Whiteness so absolute it seemed to generate its own contrast against reality.

  And the maid dress—the black uniform Null had gifted—was now white. Pure, absolute white. Like the entity's nature had bled into the fabric and transformed it completely.

  [Beautiful. Divine. Wrong. Sara understands why people run from it. Sara understands why it's SSS-rank nightmare. But Sara also fascinated. Sara wants to understand.]

  It moved forward. Legs moving in walking motion—knee bending, foot extending, proper human gait. Every detail exact.

  But something was wrong.

  The feet didn't quite touch the floor. A few centimeters of space remained. Constant. Unchanging.

  It floated while pretending to walk. Perfect mimicry of motion without understanding the fundamental physics.

  [Oh. It observed walking. Learned appearance. But missed the part where feet actually contact ground.]

  [Interesting. Very interesting. Maybe Sara can do that too. Sara can lift few tons with psychokinesis. Not much. But enough to reduce own weight until floats. Float while walking. Avoid pressing talons into floor. Would solve problem.]

  Sara had practiced after that. Days of trial. Testing. Learning to walk while floating. Using psychokinesis to reduce weight until hovering just above surface. Maintaining the illusion of ground contact.

  Difficult. Required constant concentration. But possible.

  [End Flashback]

  Sara approached the apartment building. Combining both techniques. Toe-walking. Float-walking to hover slightly above surface.

  Her talons still touched ground sometimes. Still left small marks when concentration slipped. But much better than before. Much less destructive.

  [Sara can do this. Sara can walk without wrecking everything. Sara can fit in. Almost.]

  The guard at entrance noticed her approach. Eyes went wide.

  Sara tried to act nice. Like she seen Ealdred teach. Like Null monster does—and Null way scarier than Sara. Polite. Non-threatening. Professional.

  "Sara. Here to visit Ms. Dominos. Fourth floor."

  Guard visibly scared. But no accident. Professional training. He pulled out communication device. Spoke quietly. Voice only trembling bit. Listened. Then nodded.

  "You're expected. She says to come up. Elevator is—" He pointed. Hand trembling slightly. "—there. Fourth floor, apartment 4C."

  "Thank you." Sara tried to sound grateful. Polite. Like proper guest.

  She pulled out gold coin from Item Box. Held it out to guard. "For your help."

  Guard stared at coin. Eyes wide. Looked at Sara. Scared. Surprised. Uncertain what to do. Then reached out with trembling hand and took it. "T-thank you, m-miss."

  Sara walked past. Careful steps. Toe-walking plus float-walking. The floor barely marked.

  Then noticed sign on wall near elevator. Professional lettering. Clear message:

  "Building policy: Staff compensation is provided through professional salaries. Personal gratuities may be declined to avoid appearance of improper influence."

  [Oh. Damn. Sara messed up. Guard probably too scared to decline. Sara tried to be nice and broke their rules instead. Why is being normal so complicated?]

  The elevator was large. Expensive. The kind that could transport furniture. Or monsters.

  Sara entered. Pressed button for fourth floor. Doors closed.

  [Sara's going to someone's home. Someone invited Sara. First time. First time ever. This is real. This is happening.]

  The elevator rose. Sara felt mana flow—some kind of magical mechanism making it work. Smooth. Quiet.

  Sara checked her appearance in the mirror. The maid dress she'd commissioned. Black and white. Perfect craftsmanship. All enchantments active—comfort making every moment feel like sea of pillows even standing in elevator, waste management so no need for annoying stops or exits while visiting friend, self-cleaning so dress always looks clean like just washed. Everything working perfectly.

  [Sara looks like maid. Professional maid. Not monster. Well... still monster. But maid-looking monster. That's something.]

  Fourth floor arrived. Doors opened.

  Apartment 4C was easy to find. Right there. Door already open slightly.

  The poisoner lady stood in doorway. Dressed casually. Just normal clothing like Sara had seen her wear. Nothing like she dressed at Assassin Guild. Comfortable. Home clothing.

  She looked nervous. But not terrified. Not running.

  "Sara. Welcome." Her voice was steady. Controlled. "Please, come in."

  Sara stepped forward. Careful. Concentrated. Both techniques active.

  She crossed threshold. Entered home. Someone's actual home.

  [This is really happening. Sara invited inside. Into private space. Into HOME.]

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  The apartment was beautiful.

  Large. Well-furnished. Stylish. Functional. But nothing overly opulent. Sara would totally believe it's retired servant's home. Someone who saved carefully over centuries. Smart disguise. Perfect cover.

  Windows overlooked the city. Natural light. Plants in corners. Art on walls. Books on shelves.

  [This is home. Real home. Where someone lives and feels safe and keeps precious things.]

  "Please, sit." The poisoner lady gestured to a reinforced chair. Heavy construction. The kind meant for large guests.

  [She prepared for Sara's visit. Got stronger furniture. Planned ahead. Considerate.]

  Sara sat carefully. The chair held. Barely creaking.

  The poisoner lady disappeared into kitchen. Returned with tea service. Pot. Cups. And—

  "Cookies and milk," she said. Setting plate on table. "I remembered from the seamstress's notes. You like these."

  Sara stared at the cookies. Fresh. Still warm. Homemade maybe.

  [She remembered. She prepared Sara's favorite. She CARED enough to prepare.]

  "Thank you," Sara managed. Voice quiet. Careful. "Sara really appreciates this."

  "No need for formal address here." The poisoner lady poured tea. Hands steady. Professional. "We're not at the Guild. You can just call me Dominos. And I'll call you Sara. If that's acceptable."

  Sara nodded. [First name basis. Informal. Like friends. Like equals. Like Sara matters as person not just client.]

  She took cookie. Ate it. Perfect. Delicious.

  Dominos sipped tea. Watching Sara carefully. Reading her reactions.

  "I suppose you're wondering why I invited you here."

  "Sara is curious," Sara admitted. "But also happy. Nobody ever invites Sara to their home. Ever. This is... new. Good new."

  Something flickered in Dominos's expression. Sympathy maybe. Understanding.

  "I have news about the dryad case. But also... other things we should discuss. Away from Guild eyes. Away from listeners."

  She set down her teacup. Serious now. Professional.

  "The dryad investigation hit a dead end."

  Sara's wings drooped slightly. [Oh. That's disappointing. Sara wanted to do heroic thing. Prove conspiracy. Save good student from betrayers.]

  "I investigated everyone connected to the dryad's fall thirty years ago," Dominos continued. "Even tracked down a few who knew her during that time. Managed to identify several more who were probably part of the conspiracy. The bad influences. The ones who pushed her away from trees."

  She paused. "They're all dead."

  Sara's attention sharpened. "Dead how?"

  "Most killed or disappeared within weeks after your rescue attempt. After the entire pickup party was lost." Dominos's tone was flat. Professional. "Someone behind the conspiracy decided to cut all loose ends. Clean house. Remove everyone who could connect back to them."

  [Oh. Sara's rescue triggered cleanup. Whoever wanted dryad's heart got scared. Eliminated witnesses. Removed evidence. Professional work. Brutal but effective.]

  "So Sara caused them to die," Sara said quietly. Stating fact. Not guilt—just observation.

  "You saved the dryad," Dominos corrected. "And spooked someone powerful enough to orchestrate organ-harvesting conspiracy. That person protected themselves by eliminating accomplices. That's on them. Not you."

  Sara considered this. [Maybe true. Maybe Sara did heroic thing even if evidence got destroyed. Dryad still alive. Still serving elf. Still safe. That counts for something.]

  "No evidence means no reward from Syndicate," Dominos continued. Her tone shifted. Careful. "Which is... disappointing. For both of us. The money would have been significant."

  [Ah. There it is. The greed. The calculation. She wanted reward. Saw opportunity. Lost it when witnesses died.]

  But Dominos wasn't finished.

  "However." She looked at Sara directly. Serious. "Something even more valuable than Syndicate reward exists. Something I've been working toward for the last century. Something gold alone can't buy."

  She took breath. Steadying herself.

  "A clean pass. Legal status. Exit from criminal world into legitimate business."

  Sara listened. [Oh. She wants to go legal. Wants safety. But can't leave Assassin Guild—impossible. This guild like trap.]

  "I'm about three hundred years old," Dominos said quietly. Admitting vulnerability. "Been in this business my entire life. Started as poisoner. Then moved to some other more profitable things. Eventually ended up as information broker while working Guild desk—most legal position I could find while still being criminal."

  She gestured around apartment. "I'm rich. Accumulated wealth over centuries. Actually own this apartment, while on paper only live here. But what good is gold if I end up collared?"

  Her voice tightened. Fear breaking through professional mask. "Most people my age who worked in my field? Dead. Or collared. Criminal slavery. I've had three close calls. Three times I almost got caught. Three times I barely escaped."

  Sara understood immediately. [She's terrified. Counting down to inevitable capture. Waiting for the day luck runs out.]

  "In Republic, debt slaves have options," Dominos continued. Professional lecture mode. Explaining. "Buy freedom. Get freed by owner. Even escape legally if you fulfill certain conditions. It's structured system. Path to freedom exists."

  Her expression hardened. "Criminal slaves? Different category entirely. Freeing criminal slave is high crime. Helping them escape is worse. Once collared as criminal slave—that's permanent. Life sentence. No appeals. No options."

  She looked at Sara. Direct.

  "If I get caught. If I get collared. I'll probably end up in black brothel for rest of my life."

  Pause. Weight settling.

  "That's the standard fate for beautiful female criminal slaves. After they rob me blind first—there's lot of people who buy up criminal slaves who may have wealth hidden. To extract it."

  Her voice was flat. Professional. Stating facts.

  "Vultures everywhere, especially when prey can't protect herself anymore."

  Another pause. Longer.

  "Three hundred years of work. Three hundred years of accumulated wealth. All meaningless the moment collar locks around my neck."

  [Oh. That's why she's desperate. That's why she invited Sara here. That's why she's taking risk of having monster in her home. Because Sara is opportunity. Sara is potential protection. Sara is exit strategy.]

  "So." Dominos set down her teacup. "I want to propose something. Something mutually beneficial. If you'll hear me out."

  Sara ate another cookie. "Sara is listening."

  Dominos took breath. Big one. The kind before making important offer.

  "I want to be your friend."

  Sara blinked. [What?]

  "Not just business associate. Not just agent. Actual friend." Dominos's voice was steady. Determined. "Someone you can trust. Someone who helps you. Someone who works with you toward shared goals."

  She leaned forward slightly. "I've researched Void. The elf you want to serve. His establishment in Borderwatch. Everything I could find through Guild networks and public records."

  [She investigated Master. Sara's potential master. The one Sara wants to serve someday.]

  "He controls the City Watch as private army," Dominos continued. Professional report. "It's obvious to anyone paying attention. Watch headquarters is literally next to his establishment. He pays them. Feeds them. Nora—that wolf maid—is officially assigned as middleman between Council and Watch. She controls everything but the name."

  Sara nodded. [Public knowledge basically. Not secret. Just fact.]

  "He's used Watch to enforce policies he needs. Collecting orphans. Erasing slums. Various operations that would be questionable if done privately. But it's legal. Many Republic cities have guild security forces or city watch that answer to local powers. This is normal. Standard practice."

  Dominos pulled out notes. "I also observed signs of mind control or mental blocks on his servants. No real proof—just patterns. Behaviors. The way they act. But—" she shrugged "—many powerful people use such methods. Especially in Republic. Especially in Guild high society. Setting barriers. Controlling subordinates. It's just part of the game. Tools differ. Results similar."

  She looked at Sara. "He seems like good master. Harsh but fair. Servants appear free despite controls. They smile. They seem happy. That's rare for elven masters."

  [She researched Master. Came to conclusion Sara already knew. He's good master. Worth serving. Rare. Precious.]

  "Here's my proposition," Dominos said. Direct. Clear. "I help you. Provide information. Resources. Contacts. Everything you need to eventually approach Void successfully. To find this Chain you're searching for. To become what you want to become."

  She paused. "In exchange—when you succeed. When you're accepted into his service. When you have his trust and protection—you put in good word for me."

  Sara tilted head. "Good word?"

  "Tell him I exist. That I'm skilled information broker. That I want to leave criminal world and work legally. That I have three centuries of experience and contacts and knowledge that could be useful." Her voice was eager now. Desperate. "Someone like you—powerful monster, trusted servant—your recommendation would matter. Would make exception acceptable."

  She gestured around apartment again. "I've accumulated fortune over centuries. But all of it is useless if I get collared. I need protection. I need legal status. I need powerful employer who can shield me from my past."

  Her eyes met Sara's. Direct. "I need someone like Void. Someone who does terrible things legally. Someone who understands that tools like me—criminals with useful skills—can be valuable if properly employed. Someone who won't discard me the moment my usefulness ends."

  [Oh. She wants same thing Sara wants. Different reasons. Different approach. But same goal. Serve the elf. Belong somewhere safe. Have protection. Have home.]

  Sara ate another cookie. Thinking. Processing.

  [She's afraid. She's greedy. She's desperate. She's calculating. But also—she's being honest. Admitting vulnerability. Offering fair trade. Help Sara achieve goal. Sara helps her achieve goal. Win-win. Both benefit. Both want same thing.]

  [And she wants to be friend. Not just agent. Not just tool. Friend. Someone Sara can trust. Someone who stays. Someone who doesn't run away.]

  Sara looked at Dominos. Direct. Serious.

  "Sara agrees."

  Dominos's expression transformed. Hope. Relief. Joy barely contained.

  "Sara understands it's transaction," Sara continued. Voice honest. "Dominos wants benefit. Sara wants benefit. Fair trade. Win-win. That's good. That's acceptable. That's how deals work."

  She smiled slightly. Small. Genuine. "Sara also wants friend. Even friend who wants something. Because Sara also wants something. So it's fair. Equal. Honest."

  She gestured between them. "Both want to serve elf. Both want protection. Both want belonging. Both understand business. This is good foundation for friendship. Maybe strange friendship. But real friendship anyway."

  Dominos's eyes were wet. Not quite crying but close. "Thank you. Truly. I—" She stopped. Steadied herself. Professional mask slipping back. "I'll work hard. I'll be useful. I'll prove my worth."

  "Sara knows you will," Sara said. Simple truth. "You already useful. You already working hard. That's why Sara trusts you. That's why Sara accepts friendship."

  But something bothered Sara. Uncomfortable thought. Worry.

  "Sara has concern though."

  Dominos looked up. "Yes?"

  "Friend might disappear." Sara's voice was quiet. Careful. "Either willingly—maybe Sara too scary. Maybe Dominos finds better deal. Maybe just decides Sara not worth risk. Or—" Sara's wings drooped "—captured. Collared. Lost. Gone."

  She looked at Dominos seriously. "Sara doesn't want to lose friend. Especially first friend who invites Sara to home. Who makes cookies. Who wants same things Sara wants."

  Sara reached into Item Box. Started searching. "Sara has safety measure. If Dominos accepts."

  She pulled out talisman. Beautiful craftsmanship. Ancient. Powerful.

  Dominos's eyes went wide. "That's... that's archmage-level soul tracking talisman. I've heard of these. Never seen one. They're—" She stopped. Stared. "—extremely rare. Extremely valuable. How do you—"

  "Sara has lots of things in Item Box," Sara said simply. "Centuries of collecting. This one is useful now. Can mark your soul. Then Sara always knows where Dominos is. Always can find you. Distance doesn't matter. Barriers don't matter. Sara will always know."

  She held it out. "If you captured. If you collared. If you disappear—Sara will know. Sara will come. Sara will rescue."

  Dominos stared at the talisman. Then at Sara. "You're offering to... to protect me? Permanently?"

  "Sara promises," Sara said. Simple. Direct. "If Dominos captured, Sara comes to save. That's what friends do. That's what protectors do. That's what Sara will do."

  Dominos's voice was shaking. "You'd... come for me? Even if dangerous? Even if costly? Even if—"

  "Sara promises," Sara repeated. Firm. Absolute.

  Dominos was crying now. Actual tears. "Nobody's ever promised to help me. Not once. Not in three hundred years. I've heard plenty of lies. Plenty of false offers. Plenty of people saying things they don't mean. But—"

  She looked at Sara. Understanding dawning. "But you're monster. And monsters don't lie."

  Sara tilted head. "Monsters don't lie?"

  "The more powerful the monster, the less capable of lying they become," Dominos explained. Voice thick with emotion. "It's observed fact. Documented pattern. Weak monsters can lie sometimes. Strong monsters almost never. Monsters like you?" She laughed. Wet. Happy. "You probably couldn't lie even if you tried. The concept just... doesn't work in your mind. Too apex. Too powerful. Too beyond."

  [Oh. Sara never thought about it like that. But... Sara can't remember ever lying. Not once in five hundred years. Even when it would have been useful. Even when it would have saved Sara trouble. Sara just... doesn't. Can't. Doesn't occur to Sara as option.]

  "So your promise," Dominos continued. Voice breaking. "Your promise is real. Absolute. Unbreakable. When you say you'll come for me—you WILL come for me. No doubt. No question. No possibility of betrayal."

  She held out her hand. Trembling. "Mark me. Please. Make me yours to protect. I accept."

  Sara took her hand carefully. Not wanting to accidentally hurt.

  She activated the talisman. Magic flowed. Soul signature marked. Connection established.

  Now Sara would always know where Dominos was. Always feel her location. Always be able to find her.

  [Permanent connection. Permanent protection. Permanent friendship. Sara has protector-bond with first real friend. Good. Very good. This is right. This is how it should be.]

  The magic settled. Complete. Done.

  Dominos pulled her hand back. Looked at it. Then at Sara.

  Then she stepped forward and hugged Sara.

  Tight. Desperate. Full of emotion.

  Sara froze. [Oh. Oh. Hugging. People hugging Sara. This is... rare. Very rare. Need to be careful. Need to not squeeze. Need to not accidentally squash friend.]

  She hugged back. Very gently. Very carefully. Arms around Dominos but barely applying pressure.

  [Soft hug. Careful hug. Friend is fragile. Friend is breakable. Sara is not. Must be gentle. Must be careful. Must not ruin this.]

  Dominos was sobbing into Sara's shoulder. Full crying now. All the fear and desperation and loneliness of three hundred years releasing at once.

  "Thank you," she kept repeating. "Thank you thank you thank you. Nobody's ever—I never thought—thank you."

  Sara patted her back gently. Awkward. Unsure. But trying. "Sara is happy to have friend. Sara is happy to protect friend. This is good thing. Good for both of us. Good trade. Good friendship."

  [Friend is crying. Happy crying. Safe crying. Sara did good thing. Sara matters to someone. This is belonging. This is good.]

  They stayed like that for while. Dominos crying. Sara holding very carefully. Both understanding this was important moment. Turning point. Beginning of something real.

  Finally Dominos pulled back. Wiping eyes. Laughing. "Sorry. I'm—I'm not usually this emotional. Professional criminal and all. But—" She gestured helplessly. "—this is just. A lot. You know?"

  "Sara understands," Sara said. And did. [This was a lot for Sara too. First real friend. First real protection bond. First person who wanted Sara's protection and trusted Sara's promise absolutely.]

  [This is big. This is important. This is everything Sara wanted without knowing she wanted it.]

  Dominos collected herself. Professional mask sliding back. But warmer now. More genuine. Friend-mask instead of business-mask.

  "So." She smiled. Watery but real. "We're friends. Officially. And we have shared goal—getting both of us into Void's service eventually."

  "Yes," Sara agreed.

  Dominos pulled back from the hug. Still emotional but thinking clearly now.

  "You're my protector. Officially. Permanently." She steadied herself. "As I was trained, and also in my world—criminal world—that means something. When someone powerful enough to actually protect you takes that burden... she owns you. It's fair. It's how this works. I want to make it official. Soul oath. Proper binding. Whatever you prefer."

  [Trained by whom? Sara doesn't understand. But poisoner lady seems certain about this.]

  Sara waved. "No. Give to elf when he accepts us."

  Dominos blinked. "What?"

  "Sara is not master. Sara is servant who hasn't been accepted yet." Sara's voice was firm. Certain. "Sara wants to serve elf. Dominos wants to serve elf. So when elf accepts us—give oath to him. Not to Sara. Sara is just friend. Just protector. Just fellow servant."

  She looked at Dominos seriously. "Sara doesn't want to collect oaths. Sara wants to serve. That's different. That's important difference."

  Dominos studied her. Long moment. Then nodded slowly. "I understand. You're right. We're both aiming for same master. You're not trying to collect your own servants. You're trying to join someone else's household." She smiled. "That's refreshingly honest. And correct. Okay. When Void accepts us—I'll give oath to him."

  "Good," Sara said. Satisfied.

  Dominos poured more tea. Relaxing now. Comfortable. "So. Sara. Tell me about your home continent. I'm curious. You mentioned different Assassin Guild practices there?"

  [Oh. Small talk. Bonding talk. Friend talk. Getting to know each other properly. Sara can do this. Sara wants to do this.]

  "Assassin Guild is more direct there," Sara began. "Less paperwork. More straightforward killing. Also they have different poison traditions. More natural toxins. Less magic-based. And—"

  She continued. Talking about home. About differences. About interesting contracts she'd done. About techniques that worked well in different regions.

  Dominos shared stories too. About Republic contracts. About difficult clients. About clever kills she'd orchestrated. About close calls she'd survived.

  Many stories related to torture. Wasn't she supposed to be a poisoner? Sara noticed but didn't ask. Everyone had complicated career paths.

  They talked for hours. Criminals bonding over craft. Over shared experience. Over mutual understanding that normal people would never have.

  [This is nice. This is comfortable. This is what friendship feels like. Talking. Sharing. Understanding. Being understood. Not being judged. Not being feared. Just... existing together. Talking about things only criminals understand. Finding common ground in darkness.]

  Eventually conversation shifted. Practical matters.

  "You should probably come through window next time," Dominos suggested. Apologetic but practical. "Landing in front of building causes... reactions. Guard was professional but I saw him panic. Residents might complain. Building management might get difficult."

  "Sara understands," Sara said. Not offended. Just accepting reality. "Sara will use window next time. Which window?"

  Dominos pointed. "That one. Fourth floor. Easy to spot from outside. I'll leave it unlocked when I know you're coming."

  "Good," Sara agreed.

  Then Sara remembered something. "Sara has cave. Nearby Borderwatch. In S-rank haunt. Sara uses as base. Dominos should visit sometime. Counter-visit. Fair is fair."

  Dominos's face went pale. "S-rank haunt? That's—that's extremely dangerous. For someone my level that's—"

  "Sara will make it safe," Sara interrupted. Simple. Certain. "Sara clears out monsters. Makes cave protected. Then Dominos visits. Safe visit. Friend visit. No danger."

  Dominos looked uncertain. "You'd clear out entire S-rank haunt? Just so I could visit safely?"

  "Yes," Sara said. Like it was obvious. "Friends visit each other. Sara visited Dominos's home. Dominos visits Sara's cave. Fair trade. Equal friendship. Sara makes it safe. Not hard for Sara."

  [Sara will kill everything in radius. Make safe zone. Clear out all threats. Then friend can visit without danger. Simple. Easy. What friends do.]

  Dominos studied Sara. Then smiled. Genuine. Warm. "Okay. If you make it safe—I'll visit. Promise."

  "Good," Sara said. Happy. [Friend will visit. Sara will have friend in cave. Sara can show friend her collection. Her books. Her things. Share space. Share belonging. This is friendship. Real friendship. Good friendship.]

  They talked more. Details. Plans. How to communicate safely. How to arrange meetings. How Sara would continue searching for Chain. How Dominos would keep gathering information about Void's establishment.

  Eventually Sara noticed the time. Late. Very late. "Sara should go. Let Dominos rest. Been long day. Good day. But long."

  Dominos walked her to window. "Thank you. For everything. For accepting my offer. For marking my soul. For protecting me. For being friend."

  "Sara thanks Dominos too," Sara said honestly. "For inviting Sara to home. For making cookies. For being first friend who wants same things Sara wants. This is good day. Best day Sara had in long time."

  She climbed to window. Carefully. Not damaging frame. Not wrecking anything.

  Looked back at Dominos. "Sara will visit again. Times to times. Check on friend. Talk more. Share more. Do friend things."

  "I'd like that," Dominos said. Warm. Real. "Very much."

  Sara spread wings. About to launch.

  Then stopped. Remembered something important.

  "Sara made friend," she said. Voice quiet. Happy. Amazed. "Actual friend. Real friend. Not just business contact. Not just client. Friend who trusts Sara. Who wants Sara's protection. Who invited Sara to home."

  Sara smiled. Genuine. Rare. "Sara now has multiple friends. There's the good student dryad—Courtesan 1. And now Dominos. Multiple friends. Who would expect that? Nobody would expect that. But Sara has friends anyway."

  Her wings trembled with excitement. Joy. "Now Sara just needs to find Chain. Then Sara can introduce herself to elf without getting rejected. Then Sara has master AND friends. Everything Sara wanted. Everything Sara worked for. Just need to find Chain first."

  She looked at Dominos seriously. "Sara will find it. Sara doesn't give up. Sara keeps searching. Eventually Sara finds everything. Just matter of time. Just matter of patience. Sara has patience. Sara has centuries of patience."

  "I believe you," Dominos said. And Sara felt she meant it.

  Sara launched into darkness. Wings beating. Silent. Purposeful. Happy.

  [Made friend. Real friend. Can always find her. Can always protect her. Friend who understands Sara. Who invited Sara to HOME.]

  She flew toward desert. Back to searching. Back to grid patterns.

  [Now Sara just needs to find Chain. Then everything falls into place. Then Sara belongs somewhere.]

  The desert felt less lonely now.

  Because Sara had friend waiting for her. Believing in her.

  887.313 gold.

  850 gold for a Magical Signature Analysis Device or 400 gold for 5 years of adventurer slave services—then no, those message cost numbers are not a mistake.