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Chapter Text

Elizabeth Rose Bloodflame stood in the harsh downpour of rain and wind. A black heavy cloak rested on her shoulders. An upside down, half-broken diadem of black crystals rested on her head. Every time the rain hit the jewels it left behind a haunting chime.

The sky was overcast, the world was enveloped with darkness and shadow. The most significant light around was the fire on her chest—a single small flame, blue and burning.. It was unaffected by the torrential rain and despite the chill of weather, Elizabeth did not shiver. The only proof of her living existence was the flickering of flame, light pulsing like a heart.

In front of her was a grave.

Three people were by her side, all dressed in black. Age framed their sunken cheeks, sharp bones and the jadedness in their eyes. Compared to Elizabeth's burning blue flame, their fiery hearts were drenched in oranges, reds and yellows. They all held a black umbrella over their head.

"You must start your duty now, Elizabeth," One said, her flame burning a dulled orange.

Elizabeth sighed, her voice came low and heavy with grief. "I do not want this."

"It is your duty," Another person reminded, his flame an embering maroon red. "You alone are the Harbinger of Order, you alone must carry this burden."

Elizabeth's hands curled into her fist, she did not break her fixated gaze on the freshly tilled ground. "This is not what he wanted."

The yellow hued flame leaned forward, Elizabeth sensed her pitying smile and swallowed hard. "Child, the dead does not care for the wants of the living."

"I do not care—" Elizabeth spat. She gritted her teeth, her shoulders and muscled tense. Her nails dug into her palms, ripping small tears into her gloves. Whilst she did not shiver from the rain, the few words exchanged left her shaken. "He did not die for this."

The orange one stepped forward, her voice turning into a shrill from ancient age. "Then do this not out of duty, but as a punishment!"

Inwardly, Elizabeth winced but she knew better to show it to the esteemed elders of the Bloodflame Lineage.. Then she heard a step back and the crackle of red flames. She did not need to turn to see nor hear their silent exchange; experience taught her what would be said next.

She braced herself.

It did not stop the knife Elizabeth already inflected into herself from plunging deeper into her heart.

"If you did not want this, Harbinger, then you should have done a better job."

Elizabeth blinked; her hands unfurled. What blood stained her hands closed itself, the eternal flame on her chest already spread it's heat to skin, cauterising the small wounds. She shivered, the cold already snatching her in it's bite.

"I understand," she breathed, fog curling up in her words.

"Good." The orange flame spoke, already turning from the grave. "I'll go inform the Higher Ups of your job transition."

The red pressed a brown manilla envelope into her chest before walking. She caught it before her flame singed the edges. "This is the layout of the Cell, memorise it and then burn it, Harbinger of Order."

Then the final one, the yellow-flamed who spoke the least, left her with a curse. "Welcome back to the family, Lady Bloodflame."

Harbinger of Order.

The title is archaic in it's meaning. It belonged to the sole person capable of protecting the natural sense of order, now and for the rest of their remaining future. It was the only person capable of handling the Cell.

The Cell itself was equally archaic in it's design. Black stone walls, pillars whose flourishes dated back to the Mesopotamian era. There were no lights here made of electric powers, only candles. A lot of candles.

Magic was there too, but it's matter of existence didn't belong for the human mind to fully comprehend. That responsibility came with the Gods. To understand it more than you were permitted was the fastest way of getting removed as the Harbinger of Order.

The Cell was also buried. Deep into the mantle of the Earth's crust, separated in it's own dimensional world, spirals of staircases and long drops that landed you all the way to the bottom. It was only recently they included a magical elevator but those who needed to venture down there were only the automatons and the Harbinger of Order.

Humans can not handle the pressure.

Literally.

If a human managed to get into the elevator, manipulated the magic and forced it to drop down to the five prisoners, they would die the next time those doors open. The only thing that protected the Harbinger of Order was the eternal blue flame resting on their chest. The only blessing given from the Gods, the one they can take away the moment their Harbinger was corrupted.

Elizabeth, the now Harbinger of Order, thought about that warning often. Even now as she descended down the levels with two magical automatons by her side. The family has been in charge of the Cell for centuries, it would be impossible for them to not have a few traitors in their blood. Flames turning black once proven of their guilt instead of the usual decay back to oranges, yellows and red that came with time as their care towards duty waned.

"How many of my ancestors are ghosts in these halls?" Elizabeth murmured to herself.

The automaton left of her, an automaton with black metallic plates, and blue magic shimmering in a faceless head chimed in. "Would you like to know the history of failed or corrupted Harbingers, ma'am?"

Elizabeth refused to let the surprise or curiosity show on her face. Instead with collected indifference she asked, "I have clearance for those files?"

Despite being assigned to her and their colour scheme matching hers (the left had black with blue, the right had white with blue), these automatons did not belong to her. They belonged to the lineage, likely tasked to monitor her for her mistakes and choices.

"You are the Harbinger, ma'am."

Yes, she supposed she was—she still wasn't used to it, even when the title ceremony and funeral was a month ago.

"Another time," Elizabeth said stiffly. "I fear it will bring ill will to discuss it before I meet the prisoner."

"Excellent choice, ma'am."

They continued the ride down in silence, minutes expanding to hours but only in the senses and visions. Looking at a black wall going down and down and down can only do so much to measure time.

She missed her friends. Whilst Justice would've been more than happy to help her she couldn't let them enter the mess that was her family politics. If she could she would never let them join unless they were specifically asked for by the Higher Ups. Until then, she just had to wait until she could get out of this hell.

Ding!

The doors opened, sliding to the sides and Elizabeth walked through with her heels clacking on stone. The automatons followed her, one step behind in a facade of visual hierarchy. No one would be watching them walk these halls, the other prisoners were five concrete floors above them. Such distance was needed for their oldest prisoner. The same prisoner Elizabeth scheduled to meet, the same one right behind a bricked up room and a magically-enforced steel door.

Obvious as ever, the automatons stopped before walking in front of Elizabeth to address her. "We're here, Ma'am."

"The Prisoner is already inside?"

"Yes Ma'am, Prisoner 0000 is waiting and bound."

"Good." Elizabeth pushed past the Automatons, being careful to act and sound disinterested. "Leave us be."

"Ma'am?"

Elizabeth looked over her shoulder. The blue heart on her chest—the status of her authority—roared as it lept up a few centimetres high. She channelled all of her unkempt anger in the singular stare. "I am the Harbinger of Order. Leave us be."

The automatons turned to each other, nodded and then bowed as they stepped behind Elizabeth. "Of course."

Elizabeth nodded back, opened the door and walked in. It slammed sharply behind her the second the final figment of fabric from her dress was in the room. It seemed that her assistants had a touch of sentience after all, even if it was concentrated in spite.

The room was a sterile white. It was too bright, too clean, too perfect that it was almost borderline macabre. There was no windows, no obvious light; it was just glowed like Elizabeth was in a light bulb herself. The only thing that held colour in the room was herself, the surface on which her flame reflected on, and the woman on a dreary crystal chair opposite her.

The Prisoner, as far as the reports went, was known as many names if you looked in the archives for long enough. The disparity was chalked to the madness surrounding the person, and yet that didn't stop her predecessors from meeting her at least once. Some—more than once.

At a glance, Elizabeth could understand why. Despite being locked away for thousands of years, the prisoner had a fairly modern attire. A black corset dress, studded platform boots, personalised accessories and a cross hatching hair pin on her black and white hair, perfectly dissected in the middle. If Elizabeth saw her on the streets, she would assume her to be nothing more but a stylish goth girl.

The only proof that she was the Prisoner was being bounded to her crystal chair, surrounded by metallic chains with red flares. Although the appearance made it seemed she could slip out at any moment, Elizabeth knew better to assume the obvious. She's faced enough monsters to understand the scent, the pressure and the weight of a God's magic in the air.

However, there was an element to her appearance that Elizabeth could barely stomach. A blindfold and muzzle strapped across her eyes and mouth. The way it clashed with her outfit screamed that it came from an external source.

The only thing Elizabeth could do was pray that it wasn't her recent predecessor that forced her in this position. At the very least, the prisoner seemed comfortable. Or at least tolerant of her… facial accessories. Still, the lack of humanity…. The the more Elizabeth stared at it, the longer her flame flickered sharply in discomfort.

"You're muzzled." Her voice came out angrier than she liked, and Elizabeth looked away to calm herself. First impression were important, even for a criminal whose true name was lost to time. The last thing Elizabeth would want, even if it will be inevitable, was for them to be enemies.

"Don't worry," a voice chimed in, disinterested and apathetic. Her words echoed around her like a speaker on blast. "I can still hold a conversation, Harbinger."

She was magic.

It was one thing for her to speak directly in her mind, and maybe another predecessor assumed that trait—but no, the prisoner was magic itself. If Elizabeth wasn't so well travelled she would have never guessed just how powerful she was, even when she was bounded by the Gods' magic.

"Do not call me that," Elizabeth said instead of praise or awe. Internally, she winced. The anger lingered and it showed.

The prisoner perked up, either from her voice or her words. "Oh, okay. Warden?" she tried before her voice switched into something sultry and teasing. "Or maybe you prefer Master~"

Elizabeth grimaced; then she shuddered at the implications that her ancestors would ask or force such a crude thing. "Please do not tell me my predecessor asked that from you?"

"No." Her voice returned to her normal, apathetic kind. "But he didn't do anything to change things either, if you get what I mean."

Elizabeth frowned at the answer, it sounded like him to do such a thing. He hated the Cell and stayed away longer than the lineage expected whenever he did jobs for the Higher Ups. Still, he could've at least removed the muzzle and blindfold.

"That will change now."

"Aww, why thank you…" The pause was deliberate, an obvious trial and challenge. Elizabeth did not care, she was not one to run away from such provocations.

"Elizabeth. Elizabeth Rose Bloodflame," Elizabeth said, staring at her blindfolded eyes, "You can call me either my name, or by title."

The prisoner answered back, deadpanned, "Okay, Erb."

Elizabeth didn't blink at the shortened name, she knew better than to expect a prisoner to follow orders. She walked forward before stopping when the prisoner spoke again.

"Although," she said. Her voice changed again, boredom switched to curiosity—the kind of curiosity that killed cats. "You really shouldn't have done that. Names have power here, Erb."

An obvious warning, or a highly assumed threat. Maybe it was kindness delivered on a knife. Either way, Elizabeth continued to close the gap. She stopped just a foot away from the initial chained perimeter.

"I know—" Elizabeth as she stopped observed the chains. She turned her gaze back to the blindfolded eyes. The Prisoner stared back, likely a coincidence. "That's why before we begin our talk, properly. I wanted to ask what you preferred to be called: by title, or by name."

A long pause settled between them. The Prisoner spoke again, her curiosity almost sounded genuine. "…My title?"

"Prisoner 0000, or simply Prisoner in the records."

"In the records…" The Prisoner repeated. "What's my name there?"

"I'm unsure," Elizabeth answered honestly. "My predecessors wrote many, and I believe them all to be false."

"How so?"

"Because names have power, and you have no reason to trust them with your name."

"Oh wow, this is a new one." The prisoner laughed. "The Bloodflame lineage finally has a brain over brawn Harbinger."

The laugh came as a cackle, like lightening in the air. Elizabeth found herself delighted at the noise. It did not matter that it could be a fake sound, or something akin to mockery. She could hear the subtle notes of surprise hidden deep within—and that was enough.

"You don't need to give it," Elizabeth smiled, relieved that there were gaining small grounds. "I just prefer to let you have a choice."

The laugh shifted into something hollow, and just like that the few grounds gained crumbled. "Oh that's not a new one," The Prisoner cooed with a playful bite. "I refuse to answer, that's my choice."

Another refusal, another game. What was the prisoner searching for? How Elizabeth fared under disrespect? How she faced rejection? If she was searching for these things, she chose the wrong target. Elizabeth was never one to lead with fear and hostility.

"Understood," Elizabeth said, still at ease. If she wasn't going to give a name, then Elizabeth won't force one on her. "Now let's move onto the second thing before we properly talk."

"I believe we're talking now, Erb."

Elizabeth nodded. "Perhaps." Then she put a hand on the red chains and smirked. "But I prefer seeing their faces when I talk to them."

At once the red chain's flames turned blue. The change raced up the rings surrounding the Prisoner, breaking into two paths. When the loop connected, the the muzzle and blindfolded evaporated into smoke almost instantaneously. Elizabeth pulled her hand away the moment she saw the faint curls of smoke in the air. It returned itself to the ominous red by the time Elizabeth blinked.

The prisoner wrinkled her nose at the smoke, coughing a bit as she waved her hand in front of her face to air it out. She opened her eyes gradually, squinting first before rapidly blinking.

"Augh, my eyes," she grumbled. She frowned at Elizabeth, rubbing her eyes with her hands whilst Elizabeth stared at her. "You think just because you run the place means you can do whatever you want?"

Elizabeth didn't answer. She continued staring, mouth slightly open.

"What!? Do I look ugly or something?"

It was the exact opposite. Elizabeth perhaps have never seen such a beautiful face. The way her monochrome hair framed her porcelain skin, or how the frown held a hint of lipstick. Her eyes were the main attraction—the unnatural yellow glow, the black eye-liner helping it pop. It was if the sun itself was captured in her eyes.

"Your eyes glow," she said plainly. Years of her time spent on the battlefield developed the skills needed to hide her emotions, especially in the moments where she slipped.

"And your chest is on fire," The prisoner bit back. She blinked and the glow diminished, returning itself to a golden hue. "Now what do you want? It couldn't just be a simple exchange of names."

Elizabeth stood taller, the natural instinct of duty took over. Elizabeth didn't waste anymore time and the duty-bound indifference in her voice showed it. "I wanted to know why so many of my predecessors met you, and often."

The Prisoner crossed her arms; the bored voice returned, now amplified by the disinterest in her eyes. "That's it? You could've asked them for that reason."

"I prefer to go straight to the source." That and Elizabeth didn't want to deal with her elders any longer than she was obligated to.

"I want compensation."

Elizabeth nodded. "Done. So long as it's reasonable to the question you'll get your compensation. I promise."

"Denied—" To Elizabeth's mild amusement, the boredom grew to a yawn. "Answers are subjective in value," The prisoner explained with a slow blink of eyes. It glowed with that predatory shine to it, the lazy smile looked almost cutthroat. "Also I don't deal in promises."

A thought slipped out vocally, tinged with light bafflement. "How did my ancestors deal with you?" It was absurd to the point of charming of how much fight the Prisoner had, not that Elizabeth truly minded—it just made her all that more interesting.

The Prisoner raised a brow. "Isn't that for you to find out?"

It was.

"State your terms."

The Prisoner's grin sharpened. "My freedom for starters."

Elizabeth frowned, her voice deadpanned. "Realistic terms."

"Hey, you're the one asking the criminal for help."

Elizabeth huffed to herself quietly, she glanced around and in the blank state of the room, a thought came to her mind. "I'll increase the food budget for the prisoners."

"I told you," The Prisoner sighed, "I don't deal with promises."

"Then we're at an impasse."

Except they weren't, and they both knew it. Elizabeth was the Harbinger—if she wanted to use force to get her way it would've been easy. In fact, it would've been expected. Instead, silence settled into the room like a fog. Elizabeth couldn't see any clear way out of this bind, at least not one that didn't require force.

"I'll be heading off now," Elizabeth said, turning heel as she walked back to the door. She knew better than brute forcing a solution when a tactical retreat would be better. "I must introduce myself to the rest of your cell companions."

"Running away like a coward are we?" The Prisoner called out, one final jab that washed over Elizabeth like rain.

"It's not cowardly if I plan to return," Elizabeth flashed a genuine smile over her shoulder. "I'll see you next time."

Chapter Text

Elizabeth Bloodflame stood in the moonlight, framed by the shadows of the window panes. She's in the middle of a candle-lit room, the blue flame on her chest emitting the largest light. She stared up at the moon, amused in a twisted way. This was the only section of the Cell free from the pressure, free from the darkness that ensnared its length.

The shadows on the ground made it seem like she was trapped in a jail of her own making. It was false. Elizabeth could leave as soon as her probation was over. When the Lineage knew her enough to trust she wouldn't abandon her duty, how she would return to the Cell after every mission instead of staying away like her predecessor always did.

Until then however, she was trapped in this room. An office morphed into a bedroom—a grave refitted just enough to be a plush coffin. The distinction made it comfortable now that reality has settled in. Elizabeth will, for better or worse, live and die in these walls like most of the Harbingers before her.

"I'm not turning into a wolf," Elizabeth muttered to the open air. She glanced left, the smile on her face turned playful as she spotted the gleam of her greatsword, Thorn—another family heirloom passed down from one Harbinger to the next. "I can stop looking at the moon whenever I want. It's not an addiction."

Silence. Then Elizabeth huffed, rolling her eyes. She walked away from the window, grabbing Thorn as she left. She placed him leaning on the right side of the desk and sat back on the chair with a flattened cushion.

"See," Elizabeth sighed, the humour fading away when she picked up a blueprint from the very calculated pile of work and stared at it. "I'm back… doing work." Then she closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. She returned her paper back to the piles.

"I wish Cecilia was here," she said when she opened her eyes. "I know she wouldn't do everything but at least she would understand the budgets of the automatons. Do they all really need this much? I can do it of course, I've handled Justice's budgeting before Ceci came, and even after she came but…"

Elizabeth shook her head and sighed. She rested her forehead on the edges of her palms, elbows on the table, creasing paper. The lick of her flame kissed her lips—it was cold.

"I know you hated this place, but why didn't tell me everything before you left? Why didn't you tell me that the Harbinger would be the only living thing here? That the automatons won't be like Ceci and that the drones will relay everything back to the Lineage anyways? I mean I know it wasn't your fault—"

The pause brought the silence. The silence reminded Elizabeth that the fault of his sudden death was her own. It left in her hollow exhale.

"I hate being alone…"

The next meeting came a month later, precisely by the day, by the hour. If Elizabeth had her way she would've met her earlier but regulations meant their meetings were limited to once-a-month ventures.

"Hello again," Elizabeth said as the doors of the glowing white room closed behind her. Once again, she didn't let the automatons follow her inside. "Apologies for the long wait."

The Prisoner was glaring at her, nothing new but the edge in her glowing eyes gave Elizabeth a pause. Then she ignored it, feigning ignorance as she walked close to the chained barrier. She stopped a foot away from the chains, carefully watching her reaction. For now, there was nothing but the silent stare fitted with distrustful yellow eyes.

"Did you know there's regulations about meeting you?" Elizabeth said, mostly to fill in the silence. "Once-a-month basis for moderation and control." She let a smile peak through, slipping past the sterile professionalism. "Personally, I believe they're overreacting. I've seen their records, predecessors met you twice a week before. Though I realise that might be part of the problem."

"Did you think playing nice will get you anywhere, erb?"

Elizabeth kept the smile intact. "As a matter of fact, yes," she said with sincere honesty. "Being kind and playing nice, from my experience, lets you go a long way."

For example, talking to the rest of the prisoners above them with genuine politeness led them to revealing their names. Not that Elizabeth would reveal that information so easily. It was clear how they didn't share her name; she was their leader. Though she wouldn't be surprised if the others already figured out a way to tell her that information themselves.

"Well," The Prisoner pulled back the initial bite back to her apathetic drawl. "It won't go a long way with me."

"That's fine, it wasn't part of the intention anyways."

That was of course if Elizabeth was assuming they were on the same page without being so direct about it. It was the only reason Elizabeth could conjure when compiling a list of reasons for the sudden distrust. Elizabeth, without any prompt or reason, gave them all better food. If she was able to, she snuck in their favourite food if they let it slip.

That was how she managed to get their names. Although they didn't reveal the prisoner's name, they mentioned her favourite food so that she wouldn't be left out. It was quite sweet really.

The Prisoner scoffed and rested her head against her closed fists, elbows leaning on the arm rests of her crystal throne. "I doubt that."

Elizabeth held back the cheek to laugh. Her kindness was misinterpreted as a bribe. She wasn't laughing at the prisoner however, but at herself for missing such an obvious response.

Elizabeth shrugged like the answer was obvious. "I don't do favouritism."

It was true. She had preferences, dislikes but never an outright favourite thing, nor favourite person. She got a lot of slack before for not having a favourite animal once; the closest thing she could do was narrow it down to three creatures. Penguins, lions and dogs.

The Prisoner stared at her as silence lingered in the room. Elizabeth ignored the intense examination of her soul, then she bit the inside of her lip to stop herself from smiling. Though nothing of her face changed, no squint or glare—an intense gaze meant intense emotions. The prisoner, despite the facade of nonchalance and boredom on her face, couldn't hide her disbelief from Elizabeth—not when she was staring so blatantly at her like that.

Perhaps now she would recognise Elizabeth wasn't an immediate sworn enemy. It was an unlikely outcome, but Elizabeth could hope.

"So," Elizabeth began, clearing her throat. "Shall we get started? I would like to try getting information again on why my predecessors visited you often."

The Prisoner sighed. "Did you come with something better than a promise?"

"Something like that." Elizabeth glanced down at the burning flame on her chest before looking back up to the Prisoner. "How much do you know about the Eternal Flame?"

The monochrome woman raised a brow and lifted her head from her knuckles. The intrigue was obvious this time, and Elizabeth allowed herself a moment of pride in their small relationship growth. "The blue thing on your chest?"

Elizabeth nodded. "This flame is the gift from the Gods to the Bloodflame family, however as it's from the Gods the drawbacks are significant."

"Let me guess, you can't swim," The prisoner grinned, then her eyes widened a fracture more in glee, "Or you're all so uptight cause you hide that big red sword up your ass."

Instinctual disgust pulled at Elizabeth's lips before she had the muscle memory to corral it back to a neutral expression. But the damage was already done and the Prisoner's smile shifted to a pleased smirk.

"I can swim but—"

"And the ass?" Elizabeth wasn't going to divulge into that crass of a topic. She played this game too much with Gigi to know that even defending against it was a sign of a loss.

"But when I make an oath," Elizabeth continued. Her eyes locked onto the Prisoner's, waiting for the reaction. "I must complete it or else my flame corrupts and I could be stripped from my position as Harbinger of Order."

The smile was there, the golden eyes were blinking like nothing earth-shattering revealed itself. It was a reaction that left Elizabeth with a pang in her heart even if she didn't let it show on her face. But that was on her for thinking this solution was special. If the prisoner heard of this path before, then it was a quiet relief that one of her ancestors proposed autonomy instead of authority.

Instead of dwelling on the thought for longer, Elizabeth's eyes hardened with the seriousness of the matter. A concrete truth seeped out to her voice. "Knowing this now, would you deal in oaths?"

The smile twisted itself, stretching from cheek to cheek. It almost looked like a knife. "You're making a deal with a devil."

"I'm sure I wasn't the first Bloodflame to do so."

"No." A slow blink, a quiet cackle. The weight of the sound echoed around the room. It sent her flaming heart into a brief wavering dance. "But you are the most stupidest one."

When Elizabeth pulled a face this time it was a conscious choice. She let the disbelief control her for a moment, a small way to break and tear the conversation away from the heaviness of their discussion. "You just said I was the smart one last month?"

"Opinions change with new information," She laughed, the smile softening as she looked at Elizabeth up and down. The plan worked. "So what's your oath, Erb?"

Elizabeth reached a hand out ahead of her, her fingers curled to a ready grip. From the ground, a blue fire burned like a hearth. From the flame, a red greatsword rose until the hilt slotted perfectly into her hand.

"I won't raise Thorn, my big red sword, against you in these walls." She stabbed Thorn into the ground, the fire already snuffed out the second she held the hilt. She moved her hand from hilt to pommel and like a habit, rested her other hand over the other. "Unless it's an act of self-defence, or it's part of my duty."

"Nice try." The smile remained, armoured but intact. The Prisoner eyed Thorn, a slow and cautious rove of the eyes. It was a deliberate examination but for what, Elizabeth couldn't figure out. "But I can see that duty loophole a mile away."

"It's the duty of a harbinger to keep order, nothing else."

"For now," she mused. Her eyes caught Elizabeth's and the small ground gained was already gone again. "Perhaps in five years or ten you'll be just like the others."

Was that the reason for her hot and cold nature? If so then Elizabeth couldn't blame her for being cautious. "I won't raise Thorn against you and your friends in these walls," Elizabeth amended. "Unless it's an act of self-defence."

"That's not enough."

"I know." There was a flicker in her eyes from Elizabeth's response. Was she surprised by the honesty or was she expecting more? "But I have the selfishness to live. This deal is already unfair, do you really need to be greedy?"

The Prisoner smiled like the cat who caught the canary. For someone who was supposed to be surrounded in chains, on her crystal throne she looked like a queen. "Always."

"Will you accept it regardless? I'll perform an oath and you'll give me the information I want."

"And if I don't give you what you want?"

A wry smile wriggled its way out of Elizabeth's stoic facade. This woman was really trying to wring everything out of her. "Then nothing changes and I'll try again on my next visit."

"All this effort for one lowly criminal," The Prisoner sighed. She returned her cheek back to her knuckles, elbows again on the armrest. "Perhaps the lady was lying after all." A smile flickered on her lips, and the stare of her golden eyes were downright devilish in nature. "Playing favourites."

Elizabeth clenched the pommel of Thorn, doing her best to stop any warmth from colouring her cheeks. It's not that she was playing favourites—the woman in front of her was just difficult to work with. That and Elizabeth refused to back down from a challenge.

"If that's how you interpret it," Elizabeth cleared her throat and willed her voice to return to its neutral, duty-bound state. "Personally, it's because I hate bullies and forcing you to answer, even if it's expected of me, is bullying."

The Prisoner scrunched her brows together, the first of that kind of reaction. "That's it?" She almost sounded disappointed.

Elizabeth raised a brow back. "Is there anything more you expected?"

"Maybe," she shrugged. "Like a chivalrous knight or something. You look like a hero complex type with a side of 'I can fix her' energy."

Her first immediate thought was Cecilia. The response came out of her lips so naturally it was like breathing. "Living things aren't something to be fixed."

It came so fast, and perhaps so left field that the Prisoner was in Elizabeth's hopeful view, too stunned to speak. Then the imagination crumbled when the Prisoner shook her head and sat up. "You're weird."

"I consider the term bonkers."

"Well yeah, you have those too." She said, glancing down at her flame, not that Elizabeth noticed.

"Back to the oath, I won't raise Thorn against you and your friends in these walls, unless it's an act of self-defence. In return you'll provide me honest information on the dealings my predecessors made with you. Do you agree with these terms?"

The Prisoner shifted between faces, visibly hemming and hawing over the matter. When she glanced and saw Elizabeth politely waiting she gave a long exaggerated sigh of defeat. "The terms are acceptable enough I suppose."

An honest, relieved smile broke through Elizabeth's neutral facade. "Excellent—" Then it crashed into the next beat, a sudden realisation breaking her spirits. She looked away, ashamed, angered. "Never mind—" she spat with a jarring harshness. "I retract my deal."

The prisoner's brows furrowed, her shock readable. "What?"

"I just realised that to make an oath of protection it requires their name, and I won't force that out of you." She placed a hand against her heart, her fist burning in her flame and knelt down. Her eyes were shut, her words sincere despite the guilt laced within. "You have my deepest apology for misleading you."

Elizabeth raised herself to her feet; her eyes opened. When their eyes met there was a flash of something in those golden hues. Elizabeth turned away before she could read it. She held Thorn tight in her hands, the hilt being the only obstacle from her sinking her nails into her palm.

"I'll keep my end of the oath still as part of the apology," she called out. She made her way towards the door, doing her best to hold back her fury towards her own incompetence. All this effort to set her apart from her lineage and she stumbled at the finish line. "But I don't expect any answer from you. I've wasted enough of your time as it is."

"Shiori."

It was a whisper. A spoken word soft as a butterfly's wing in flight. The crackles of an azure hearth within her chest stilled and rendered her immobile. Elizabeth felt a weight pressing down on her throat as she gulped, the flicker in the air as something shifted. Was it too far-fetched to assume that her name too was magic as well?

Elizabeth turned, compelled by the silence.

Shiori waited for her on her crystal throne, chains of the Gods' making surrounding her with their red flames. Her face was enigmatic, her golden eyes glowed with a dull light—it was painful to stare at it with the backdrop of a sterile white-lit room. Her lips curved in a way that reminded Elizabeth of the Mona Lisa.

Was she pitying her for her mistake? Angry about the reveal of her name? Was it an acceptance of defeat that the safety of her friends cost her name? Impressed or amused that someone like Elizabeth cared? Elizabeth couldn't tell, but she hoped, deep in her rotten selfishness, that there was forgiveness.

"My name is Shiori Novella, Harbinger. Make your oath."

Elizabeth walked back towards her like it was a battlefield. Her face serious, her flame a heavy shade of blue. Each clack of the heels was reminiscent of a pistol being shot, each time their eyes met in flitted glances her heart rumbled like the earth was split in two.

What she gained here was nothing short of extraordinary, and she wasn't going to fumble this again. Not when Shiori gave her name willingly, not when her name held power in these walls.

Elizabeth stabbed Thorn into the ground, two feet away from Shiori. Her hands overlapped each other on the pommel and fire erupted like a small wave upon impact. As the flames rescinded, it left in its wake a circular sigil surrounding Elizabeth, runes of ancient times transcribing itself on the floor in a blue glow.

"I am Elizabeth Rose Bloodflame," Elizabeth began. At her words a light flashed beneath her and her hair floated upwards. The eternal flame in her chest pulsed like a beacon, and the tongues of fire slowly engulfed her hands.

"I am the Scarlet Queen, the Leader of Justice and the eternally-bound Harbinger of Order." The rituals of an oath of a protection were important, with each title and achievement listed, the shackles of her self-made duty tightened. "And I make this oath of protection, judged against my flame."

Her flame now moved down from her hands to Thorn, engulfing him in this honour bound oath.

"I vow to never raise Thorn, or any violence against the following people within the confines of the Cell for the rest of my existence: Koseki Bijou, Nerissa Ravencroft, Fuwawa Abyssgard and her sister Mococo Abyssgard, and most importantly, Shiori Novella. The only caveat to this oath is acts of self-defence against my life or those lives whom I already swore to protect."

At each name, her flame moved again, keeping Thorn in flames but racing up her arms, circling around her elbows. In the end, Elizabeth herself was wearing a chest piece of blue flames, ending with a twisted visage of a chain around her throat.

"If I fail, snuff my heart out of existence and twist my flame from blue to black. Let the Gods know of my failure, and let me be marred in memory for my sins."

Throughout the entire ordeal, Elizabeth's eyes never left Shiori's. Yet she could not read her mind as the blue flames sunk into her skin, binding her to this vow and leaving behind an invisible imprint. Soon, their white-lit room returned to normal, like nothing earth-shattering as a Harbinger giving an oath to a prisoner ever happened.

Once the show was over, Shiori let out a deadpanned comment. "All this for one lowly criminal."

There were three slow claps, each thud puncturing the silence as Elizabeth took the moment to catch her breath. She half expected a total disregard to the customs, and a general indifference. To receive three claps, sarcastic as it came, made a small smile creep up her face.

"The oath was for all you," Elizabeth corrected. "It's not favouritism."

"I didn't say it was." The grin on her face was nothing short of a devil's smirk, and underneath the glow of her eyes, Elizabeth saw a spotlight instead. "It says a lot about you though to think that."

"I—" Elizabeth hated the way her cheeks burned so quickly, caught in the simple verbal trap. Denying it would be an obvious loss, that would just goad Shiori into teasing her more. It didn't help that Shiori was hiding her laugh behind the smile.

"Never mind," Elizabeth cleared her throat, glancing sideways. The simple actions snuffed the warmth from her cheeks and when she returned her gaze back to Shiori, she kept her voice measured and firm. "I made the oath, are you willing to share why my predecessors met you now?"

"Mmmm," Shiori hummed as the subtleties of her smile lost its mirth. "Still thinking about it."

Why was she not surprised?

"Very well," Elizabeth leaned into the Thorn's pommel, shifting her arms up where the forearms rested instead. "I'll rest here for a moment before I'll depart." Elizabeth looked around her, feigning interest in the white-lit glow of such a sterile room. She was fine with the silence, comfortable in her own stubborn patience.

The silence didn't last long, an approximate minute before Shiori herself broke it. "You know their names."

Elizabeth faced Shiori, and the words slipped from her mouth like a casual conversation."Like you, they gave it willingly."

Her mind flicked through the barrage of short memories of the prisoners above them. The Jewel of emotions trusted her first, sensing something she didn't explain only to gush about how cool her name was. The guard dogs twins followed next at the Jewel's excitement and only doubled when Elizabeth made the effort to tell them apart.

The demon of sound was the last one to trust her name. Her insistent wariness was sanded down by her companions' trust and somehow Elizabeth's own beauty and voice. Either way Elizabeth was grateful for the chance to be trusted, even when their conversations were short in the presence of the automatons.

Shiori's lazy smile sharpened in the edges and the corners of her lips. "If that's what helps you sleep at night."

Undeterred, Elizabeth gave a sincere smile, softness bloomed in her eyes. "It does."

"Oh no we can't have that," Shiori laughed, louder than usual. Before Elizabeth can question it, her smile bore teeth, and the golden glow of her eyes sharpened its edges to mirror an interrogation lamp. "Tell me, Harbinger Bloodflame, how great do you think your family really is?"

Under the piercing gaze, Elizabeth thought back to her predecessor who she respected, but stayed away from the Cell despite the burden and duty. She thought back to the elders with their aged faces and soot-making fires on their chest. She thought about how her family was of the Bloodflame name, but not part of their prestigious lineage—not until someone like her showed up.

"I'm not naive, if that's what you're asking," Elizabeth explained, keeping with her voice casual and friendly opposed to the duty-bounded neutrality. "They have as many skeletons in their closets as they do heroes, and those who aren't heroes are hidden away until they're needed."

"Do you have an ancestor you look up to? A hero?"

Elizabeth didn't hesitate, and the smile grew on her face. "My great-grandmother. She left the family to marry my great-grandfather and got exiled for it."

Her family, her true and real family, were left alone with their marriage. They were poorer than the rest of the lineage by miles, but they had each other. It wasn't until Elizabeth's own flame stayed true and heir-blue when she became eighteen did the lineage notice her.

But by then it was already too late. Her predecessor, the then Harbinger of Order and holder of the Eternal Flame, noticed her first. He snatched her away from the training traditions for the next Harbinger of Order, brought her along his many adventures, and continued her independence away from the lineage.

If it wasn't for him, who knows what Elizabeth would've been. Maybe she wouldn't be the person worthy enough to know Shiori's name.

A low chuckle left Shiori's lips. The smile softened and the invasive light left her eyes. "This explains a lot."

Pleased, and a touch proud, Elizabeth perked up with a smirk. "I'm not quite meeting your expectations, am I?"

Shiori didn't dignify that with an answer. "What do you know about me?"

Elizabeth hummed, "Truthfully? Nothing beyond your title, how long you've been here and the red flags warning that you are the most dangerous criminal in these cells."

"How flattering," Shiori laughed before the edge in her eyes returned and her smile twisted into something only a trickster fae could pull off. "The Gods know me as the Archiver, your family knows me as their dirty little secret."

Elizabeth stood taller at the news, the flame in her chest bristled despite the lack of wind. The horror in her face wasn't something she could hide even if she tried. "Excuse me?"

Shiori paid no heed to her reaction, glancing away to admire her fingers as it counted down the list. Her lazy drawl, acting like this was a story about the weather, held Elizabeth's rapt attention.

"I can archive anything and keep it in my mind. Memories, stories, forbidden knowledge…" Their eyes met, and the proud smile made Elizabeth's flame shiver. "It's what got me locked up in the first place."

"One day a past Harbinger of Order did a deal with your favourite lowly criminal," Elizabeth held back her flinch as Shiori's voice continued its storyteller musing. The emphasis wasn't missed. "I would archive their memories they wanted to hide from the Gods or whatever, and in return I get gifts that make life in the cell much more bearable. Soon enough, it became a favourite past time for Harbingers, making deals with the devil."

"They gave away their memories?" Elizabeth murmured, voice drenched in disbelief. "Like they just wouldn't have it anymore?"

"Secrets. Crimes…" Shiori answered instead, the slow smile cutting its worst blow yet. "Truly the worst parts of humanity. Did you know—"

"I believe you," Elizabeth interjected, taking a step back. She didn't even notice until she corrected herself. "You don't need to explain."

"Awww, perhaps the truth was too much for you to bear?" There was a kindness in her voice, perhaps it was mockery but Elizabeth held onto it regardless. She always knew the sins of her lineage were heavy, but she never thought it would be like this.

"No." Elizabeth took a deep breath, her eyes looked down at her heart, brows furrowing at the subtle shrink of blue. "I just don't want to hear how…." Elizabeth's face twisted into discomfort and shame. Her mind expanded to all the unfortunate possible memories and connected the link to their first meeting a month ago. "…crass my ancestors are."

"Oh yeah they're all a bunch of perverts," Shiori grinned with a cackle. "Especially your great-great grand-daddy."

Elizabeth swallowed the lump down her throat. She looked up at Shiori, unsure of what was on her face. Her training on the battlefield didn't teach her how to mask against a horrific truth, nor did her heart never learnt to hide when her emotions were out in the open.

"…Everyone did this?"

Whatever expression she had on her face made Shiori calm down, the goading smile gone and replaced with a disinterested frown. She crossed her legs, rested her head on against her knuckles, elbow on the armrest. There was no bite to her voice, nor kindness, just a cold ill-fitted comfort. And yet, her eyes held the accusatory yet curious light.

"How does it feel?" She said, her eyes bearing into Elizabeth's soul. "Knowing your family uses criminals for their own selfishness?"

The natural instinct was to apologise. Let the associated guilt and shame of her ancestors control her emotions. To say sorry for all the times her predecessors used her; all the times her magic, her skills were forced against her will. To beg forgiveness for all of the worst of humanity the Bloodflame family has shown her.

So of course, it took everything for Elizabeth to swallow her tongue and shove the guilt down her throat.

She has met Shiori twice, and each encounter left her exhausted, speechless and downright impressed. Two conversations were all it took for Elizabeth to recognise that she was the biggest threat—not because of the mystery, not because of the Gods' chains around her personal being, or the tight-knit regulations required to meet with her.

Elizabeth recognised her threat because of the way she had with words. Each question either ended with a vague message, a redirection or a comment made to test Elizabeth's limit. Every time Elizabeth thought they gained some ground, a simple step forward, Shiori would open her mouth and send her right back to the start.

Assuming her ancestors were able to manipulate someone like Shiori, viewing her as a tragic damsel caught in the machinations of power was a direct insult to the woman who was magic herself. It took an oath for Elizabeth to learn her name, and even then all she could do was trust that Shiori spoke the truth. To exchange their memories and hide their crimes, Shiori would've bled them dry.

There was no way Shiori would just let herself be used as a memory bank, and even when the deal was struck, there was no way Shiori's audacity and greed would let it be equally fair. Still, Elizabeth couldn't stomach the injustice in front of her, not of the memory exchange, but of all the years her ancestors couldn't see the person right in front of her.

Could Elizabeth handle all those decades of being reduced to nothing more than a tool? Even when the exchange would be in her favour, can she handle the long-game disrespect, or misjudgement? What would be worse? The blatant disrespect or the pretentious pity? The arrogant, self-righteous help or the indifferent isolation?

No wonder the Gods' feared her so much. Her resilience, her independence and her intelligence was something else. Her capability to keep Harbingers on their toes and yet have them dance in the palms of her hands with their memories was nothing short of extraordinary. Even when it's against herself, against her lineage and duty, Elizabeth couldn't help admiring it deep down.

There's no better way to explain it. Shiori was truly magic incarnate.

"How does it feel?" Elizabeth repeated after what she assumed was a long silence.

She looked up at Shiori, staring into the glow of golden eyes. What did Shiori expect her to be again? The chivalrous type with a fixer personality? Perhaps that was right, maybe if Elizabeth made a mistake it would be more prominent. But so far, she made no mistake—not yet with Shiori. The associated guilt she'll deal in her own time, but not now. Not when she was so rattled even the nature of duty couldn't stop her honesty.

Elizabeth leaned up from Thorn, a hand remaining on the pommel to evaporate it back to the pocket dimension. She looked down, watching it vanish as she held a quiet inhale under her breath.

Elizabeth looked up, she caught Shiori's eyes—and she smiled.

"I feel insulted for being called the stupidest Bloodflame to ever make a deal with you." Her heart on her sleeve and sincerity came in every breath. "Yes, it took an oath for me to learn your name and these secrets but my ancestors traded in their memories. And knowing you—"

Elizabeth's laughter slipped out from her smile. Her mind brought her back to the calculative look in Shiori's face when they negotiated on the oath, the pride of greed and the devilish grins in her teasing. Yeah, there was no way a Bloodflame could take advantage of her. "The price would've been exploitative, especially if they didn't realise it."

Much to Elizabeth's own mirth, Shiori's face made no change. No surprise, no amusement in disbelief, no sense of distrust or focused stare to analyse if her words rang true. Shiori was just looking at her, taking the words in with the most casual indifference. It was perhaps the most obvious unreadable facade she has ever worn, and Elizabeth knew better than to pry deeper.

"Truthfully I wonder how much they lost to keep your greed sated," Elizabeth mused, glancing around them before giving a softer smile. "But I believe that would be a conversation for another day. As much as I admire how you handled the cards you've been dealt, all my initial questions have been answered."

With a playful bow, Elizabeth turned away with a flourish. Like before, she stopped just by the door and flashed another genuine smile over her shoulder. "I'll see you in a month, Archiver.”

Chapter Text

Elizabeth Bloodflame stood in front of a full body mirror against the left wall of her make-shift bedroom/office. The amber light of the setting sun casted shadows of rectangular window panes over her the right side of her face. She did not care, nor did she mind as her eyes focused on what's in front of her.

The Cell, both above and below were archaic. Electricity did not work here, wi-fi was non-existent. The radio was spotty in terrible hopeful times, more often than not, Elizabeth used it as a white noise machine. The only two solid methods of communication were letters sent over a month's passage—or the Mirror.

The Mirror gave her, or the Harbinger of Order, the quickest access to the rest of humanity. Unfortunately, the lineage of the Bloodflame and the elders were the only recipients on the other side. In front of Elizabeth now were the three elders from the funeral.

"What you're proposing, Harbinger, is madness!" The one speaking now was the woman with the orange flame, her anger punctuated so fiercely with her brows and the dagger-like glare. "Moving the prisoners is out of your jurisdiction."

"Yes, that is why I'm informing you all first." As much as Elizabeth hated interacting with them, the rules existed for a reason. If she resigned herself to this job, she'll do her best to get it right. Just like any other mission. "However, I believe my reasoning was sound."

"They're delusional," The red flame scoffed. "The Cell has existed for centuries, millennia—even before the Harbinger of Order existed. They do not need repair."

Elizabeth gave a slow nod, focusing instead to temper the heat of her flame. "Yes they are stable—"

"See—"

"—But the walls are weak." Elizabeth narrowed her eyes, her voice forceful as she demanded the attention. She did not spend at least a week studying the Cell blueprints with the actual structure to leave it alone in its passable state. "A swing of Thorn would topple most of them, if one were to use a concentrated force of magic, the floors could even crumble."

"Well," The yellow flamed woman called, her voice sickeningly pleasant. "Do you plan to go against your duties as the Harbinger of Order?"

Elizabeth bit her tongue to hold it together. "Of course not—"

"Then there is no reason for this conversation,"She sighed with hollow empathy. "I understand you're eager to defend… your situation, Lady Bloodflame, but there's no need to bring paranoia."

Elizabeth placed her hands behind her back and her nails dug into gloves once more. She needed to calm herself, focus on the matter at hand instead of the microaggressions disguised as sympathies.

"It is not paranoia," Elizabeth said calmly, her voice measured in it's perfect weight of firmness and a placebo of respect. "It's a preemptive warning for a flaw in the system."

"Watch your tongue, girl," The old man snapped, his red flame bursting at bit to mirror the aggression. "Harbinger or not, we do not question the Gods and their designs."

"I am not questioning the Gods," Elizabeth sighed, "I am questioning the responsibility of maintenance from the mortal lives of my predecessors."

"Are you calling us lazy, girl!?"

Elizabeth gave him the most polite, side-eyed glance. "I would never disrespect my elders so flippantly, however your opinions are your own."

"You—"

"I can speak from everyone here that we disapprove of the movement of the prisoners," The orange elder interjected, her voice raised to gain control. "They are to remain in their cells during your tenure."

Elizabeth nodded, not trusting herself to remain cordial if she spoke. She half-expected this outcome given their history but it's… an adjustment going from respected person to their personal scum of the earth.

"Very well," Elizabeth said, taking a deep breath to centre herself. "Let's move the discussion of the emergency portal." It was the real reason why Elizabeth forced herself to deal with this bureaucratic mess anyways.

"We spoke about it before this call," The yellow flame began, "And we all agreed that there's nothing wrong with it."

Elizabeth couldn't help it, no sense of professionalism can mask the frustrated flare of her blue flame, the sudden climb to the sky like a kitchen burner drunk on oil. The elders didn't expect it either, despite the physical distance they all jumped back.

"It's a portal back to the rest of the world," Elizabeth spat as the fire simmered back to it's normal size. Each word intensified the pressure in the room, each minor pause came with a punch—the final syllable pronounced with a bite. "And it activates during emergencies. A prison break is considered an emergency. Can you not see the obvious flaw?"

Despite the age, despite the inferiority, the red flame of the elder burst to the side. There was an attempt to match Elizabeth's intensity, but it barely flared out. "The prisoners would never find it."

"It's based on the bottom of the Cell!" Elizabeth screamed. Instead of rising like before, her heart burned brighter—blinding even. It illuminated the urgency in Elizabeth's eyes, and forced the elders to turn their arrogant eyes away, "All one needs to do is jump down the elevator drop and they'll find it!"

"The prisoners would never think to go further into the Cell when their known escape is going up!" The red elder continued to yell. "Not even the Prisoner 0000 figured it out."

"Harbinger, you must understand!" The orange one called out, barely holding back her anger. "The emergency portal is there to allow the automatons to sandwich the prisoners if they foolishly attempt to escape. I see your concerns but it's unfounded."

Elizabeth looked away, holding her hands tight. Her flames surrounded her palms, healing the small nicks and cut skin. The tight scowl on her face held all of her restraint to laugh at their arrogance.

"In terms of a prison break, we haven't had an attempt in over 700 years and even then it was from an external source. These prisoners have no reason to escape when the world they knew is fundamentally different in every grand scale."

Except that was every reason to escape. The world has forgotten them, their era of Gods died as time marched on. The world has no empire, the lands have forgiven each other for their conflicts. Even magic and magical beings became normalised in society. So long as they didn't create complete destruction, they would be indistinguishable from the masses.

"But—"

"Since we're all in agreement," The yellow flame said, cutting Elizabeth off. "There is nothing more to discuss then, yes?"

"I didn't agree!" Elizabeth screamed. But her words were drowned out by the silent nods of the other two elders.

"Then let us depart," The yellow flamed sighed, and at the words both red and orange left the mirror-connected call. Pitying eyes found Elizabeth, and the soft kindness was poison in her ears. "Harbinger of Order, next time you use the mirror, it is best to inform us of a real emergency."

The face in the mirror evaporated and left Elizabeth behind with her reflection staring back at her. Fists curling tight, a frown holding the politest sense of contempt, and red eyes staring daggers at herself. The blue flame on her chest burned with a roar, violent and surging.

Then Elizabeth blinked and she saw dozens of herself in the mirror, broken. Her hand was on fire, blue flames licking the blood clean, melting away the chipped fragments. Flickers of regret echoed in her many fractured eyes and she turned. Despair sounded like the stray crunch of glass under her feet.

Elizabeth opened the doors of Shiori's cell within a month's time, the exact day and hour like clockwork. Her automatons didn't follow her in, and the smile on her face only mirrored the grin on Shiori's face. Like before, she stopped a foot away from Shiori.

"Hello again, Shiori."

Shiori hummed, leaning on her knuckles again, elbow on the armrest. There was a slow flutter of the eyes, her lazy indifferent drawl coming again. Yet compared to last month's frigid greetings, it was a visibly warm welcome. "Ready to make a deal with the devil again, Bloodflame?"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and placed a hand on her hip with an amused scoff. She should've known that right off the bat, Shiori would try to tease her or get under her skin. "If I wanted to make a score with a demon, I would've asked Nerissa."

Elizabeth watched as Shiori's smile widened that bit more, teasing teeth in her laugh. The slight glow to her eyes never looked more playful. "Should I be jealous that she's becoming your new favourite criminal?"

Elizabeth frowned if only to hide the way her lips curve upwards when she's flustered. She half-expected another attempt to tease her with her non-existent favouritism, but to bring Nerissa into the conversation was playing dirty. Thankfully, habit held down the fort and her voice came out unbothered.

"I don't have favourites—"

"Ah," Shiori bared her teeth with a wicked smirk. "So you're only on a first name basis with Rissa to even me out, huh?"

Elizabeth shook her head, ignoring the implications of this so-called favouritism. She talked to all of advent equally, or as much as she could—if anything! Shiori would be the least favourite since Elizabeth due to their once-a-month conversations. Not that she would even mention any of those things, knowing Shiori she would spin the web further and distract Elizabeth from the real reason why she's here.

When Elizabeth raised her head, she moved her hand from her hips and crossed her arms over her heart. The light-hearted frown neutralised and her voice regained its professional detachment. "I have more questions about the memory exchange my predecessors did."

"Back to business," Shiori sighed, the smile waning to a frown. She shook her head and moved her free hand to the other armrest. There, her right fingers tapped in silent noises. "Perhaps Erb was the most stupidest harbinger after all."

Elizabeth looked away, a light flush on her cheeks. She should've expected someone who archived memories to remember her words against her ancestors. She did not regret the honesty there however, even when the next-day clarity made her internally wince. "It's not like I want to do it, I just want to…"

Know the rules, learn the costs. See what was possible, figure out what was too much to ask, quantify the losses made in exploitative deals, and extrapolate on what's implied. Their eyes met. Scarlet met yellow in curious determination. Elizabeth swallowed the obvious notion that Shiori too was part of the equation.

"…Understand it better."

The tapping stopped but Shiori's face didn't change, unreadable as always. "So what's the oath going to be today?"

Elizabeth shook her head, clearing her cheeks of colour. "No oath, just a deal, and no promises either. It'll be an exchange of information; I ask a question, you answer. Then you can ask a question, and I answer."

"Nice try," Shiori scoffed, "But there's nothing you have that I don't already know."

"Perhaps," Elizabeth agreed. She looked away, exhaling a quiet sigh. A part of her wished to summon Thorn just to hold onto something but the last thing she wanted to do was cause a misunderstanding. Steeling herself, Elizabeth turned back to Shiori. The voice came out steady, much to her own surprise. "But everything you know about me is surface-level."

Leading up to this meeting, Elizabeth couldn't stop thinking of Shiori's lacking response to her bold proclamation, not only that but the other strange responses during their prior conversation. At the same time, there was no way she wasn't in Shiori's mind—not after everything. She was different from the others, even if Shiori was never going to admit it.

Elizabeth found herself looking at a half of a smile, bordering between the curves of a tease and a threat. "Pick a struggle erb, you can't be both stupid and arrogant."

Elizabeth parried the smile back, leaning into that earned arrogance of being right with a smirk. "And you can't be both indifferent and curious at the same time, Shiori."

Shiori hummed, crossing one leg over the other. She leaned back into her seat, mirth openly expressed in the glow of her eyes. Elizabeth grinned harder, hiding her relief in case it ruined the moment.

"You'll be honest the entire time?"

Elizabeth pressed a hand on her chest, blue flame engulfing her limb in a cool chill. A small habit from her times travelling. "I swear on it, and if you agree you can go first."

Shiori's grin sharpened. "Am I your favourite criminal?"

"I—" Elizabeth's face burned red, the tips of her ears grew hot. The hand on her chest moved to her side and her tongue floundered. It was the speed that caught her off guard, straight to the jugular. "No!" She shouted, exasperated by the running joke. "I told you I don't have favourites."

"The lady already lies," Shiori sighed in all forms of dramatics. She pressed the back of her hand against her forehead and her eyes closed like she was heading to bed. The other hand was doing lazy flourishes like she's about to faint. "The deal is forever gone."

"I'm serious!" Elizabeth looked around herself, her arms occasionally rising to make a point before it fell back to her sides. It was the truth, the most honest truth and yet she can hear herself sound like a flustered liar, rambling out explanations. "I—I just have a big heart okay. I don't even have a favourite friend or animal, or anything."

Shiori peeked one eye open with a brow arched. "Even colour?"

"I like blue and red equally," Elizabeth said before she glanced away from Shiori's eyes. The last words left in a quiet murmur, something barely covered by the pleasant crackle of her flaming heart. "And I have a soft spot for yellow."

Shiori giggled. Then her eyes locked in, the warm glow of her eyes morphed to a spotlight on a soul. The flourishes disappeared, and the pads of her fingers touched in the form of a triangle. Despite the intimidating appearance, her words held no bite or tension. "Now here's my real question."

"But you just asked me—"

"What drove you to make a deal with the devil a third time?"

Elizabeth sighed, rubbing the undersides of her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Again, Archiver, if I wanted to deal with a demon I would talk to Nerissa."

"You know what I mean."

She did, but at the same time Shiori could mean a million of things. The variations can range from the direct response to trying to figure out what was Elizabeth's underlying purpose behind it all. What Elizabeth shared now would likely dictate the rest of their answers.

"I haven't lied to you," Elizabeth said, pulling her hand away from her face. She stared at Shiori, left her face easy to read. "At the end of the day it was simply information. I like rules, I like learning the processes of things, the boundaries and limits. It's a puzzle."

What Liz didn't mention was the affordance that came from memorising the rules, and following the rules. Knowing the rules gave her the edge in discussions and defence. She knew what rules could bend and what would snap. Following the rules gave her legitimacy, a high grace of leniency if things went wrong. It gave her protection when things did go wrong.

Shiori brought her templed fingers back to her armrests, a slight hum of thought on her lips as she looked over Elizabeth. "You would've been better as a scientist than a Harbinger."

"Oh no, I was terrible at school," Elizabeth chuckled. She scratched her cheek with a finger, and glanced away sheepishly. "Bad grades all year round, especially at maths." She let out a sigh, and turned back to Shiori. "Speaking of maths, I'm going to ask two questions now."

"Wow you are terrible at maths," Shiori laughed back, the spotlights in her eyes diminishing. "I only asked one."

"Does it hurt?" Elizabeth asked, mouth already moving before an actual inquisitive question came to her mind. From what Elizabeth knew, messing with the mind was a fragile thing, whilst she respected Shiori's prowess, it didn't stop that pang of worry racing around her heart. "Archiving memories?"

"Archiving?" Shiori glanced down at her hands, her eyes glowed in thought. "There's nothing much to say. You'll be a bookmark in my personal library." She looked up at Elizabeth. "I wouldn't know about the extraction side of things though."

Elizabeth's shoulders sagged in relief, and the flame on her chest turned from a torch trapped in a sconce into a candle. Even her words left through a softened filter. "I'm glad." Then the kind smile curved back to a smirk and the gentle gaze turned playful, "Now onto my real question."

"Hey!" Shiori called out without it's usual bite, and delivered through a grin.

"The memories people asked to archive," Elizabeth continued, the professional cadence of her voice gone entirely. "Outside of acts of debauchery, was it all personal secrets or was there a variety?"

"Unfortunately for you, Liz," Shiori sighed through a smile. "I can't share that information. It'll break my patient confidentiality agreement." She even made the effort to shrug her shoulders, playing up how her hands were so clearly tied.

Liz blinked. First at the sudden change of nickname, then at the actual meaning of the sentence slowly registering in her brain. Would it be insulting for her to act surprised? Could she even mask her surprise in time?

"You…" Elizabeth said, partially dazed after realising that the moment last month's conversation was either a bluff or a joke. "…have a patient confidentiality agreement? Like you won't share any of the memories you've archived over the years?"

"What do you think I am, Liz?" Shiori cackled. She placed a hand over her chest and delivered a well-timed wink. "A criminal with no standards?"

At the second Liz, Elizabeth stood taller, almost in a reflexive defensive. Something shifted at the pit of her stomach, likely the cause of her sudden defensive nature even when there was no threat around her. The wink didn't help either.

Shiori noticed, because of course she did. Instead of laughing, her grin showed teeth and she looked at Elizabeth with a flutter of golden lights. "What? Am I not allowed to call you Liz?"

"I don't mind, you can call me whatever you like." Elizabeth cleared her throat and quelled the bloom of heat daring to climb up her face. She looked away from Shiori though, just in case. "I just usually reserve that for friends."

"Aww," Shiori cooed, leaning forward on her seat. She rested her chin on the lower part of her palm, elbow on the armrest. "Are we friends then?"

"I'm the Harbinger," Elizabeth reminded, glaring at Shiori. Though the sight only made Shiori's eyes glow with mirth. "I'm not supposed to fraternise with the enemy."

"Surely your favourite criminal can get a pass right?"

"And if I ever get one, I'll let them use it," Elizabeth replied back, deadpanned.

"Sure, Liz." At last the long awaited chuckle came from Shiori's lips, delivered with Shiori leaning back, two fingers at the side of her temple. "Anyways, back to the topic at hand. These memories are valuable information regardless of the era. If anyone wants to know anything, they have to pay extra to get something back."

Like a switch flicked, Elizabeth perked up. "You can return memories?"

"Perhaps," Shiori said, shrugging. "No one ever asks for a refund."

Elizabeth nodded her head, her hum of acknowledgement quiet as she stared at Shiori and all of her potential. The ability to archive memories was one thing, but to deliver memories, not even your own memories into someone's mind was something other-worldly.

For a moment, Elizabeth understood why she was imprisoned, isolated from the others. A person shouldn't hold all of that power, in the wrong hands it would destroy everything. But in the same breath, staring into Shiori's eyes, thinking back to all of their moments together, Elizabeth understood how stifling it all was.

Shiori was a woman made out of magic, powerful enough to hold forbidden knowledge, strong enough that the Gods magic needed to be with her at all times. She could archive memories, deliver them to others if she fancied. But she was judged for a reality that didn't exist anymore—and she was judged for 10,000 years, with no thought or consideration that she has changed.

"Ever broken a rule, Liz?" Shiori asked, snapping Elizabeth out of her thoughts.

"Of course I have," Elizabeth said. There was a conflicted smile on her face, bordering caution and embarrassment. She looked down on her chest, shoulder tensions relaxing at the consistent shade of blue. "I'm not some paradigm of virtue."

"Ohoho," Shiori cheered, her delight obvious. "What's the worst rule you broke?"

The most immediate thing that came to mind was creating a legal identity for Gigi to exist once she joined Justice, or hiding Raora away from others when she was a mission objective. Despite the necessity, laws were technically broken. But that wasn't Elizabeth's story to tell, nor was she ashamed of something like that.

The second thing that came to mind shrunk her flame, a hearth regressing into the first spark of a campfire in desperate need of kindling. Her mind returned her to a dark room, a checker floorboard—life returning to her in agonising gasps, in the roar of an azure flame that wasn't supposed to be hers—not yet.

Elizabeth blinked and hate crawled in her stomach when she realised her eyes were dry. She swallowed, and shame filled the void of the heavy lump she was accustomed to. At least her voice acted like she expected, a low emotional murmur remaining even after four months has passed. "I became the Harbinger."

Shiori frowned, her disappointment obvious, "That can't be your worst crime."

Elizabeth shrugged, brushing it off with a casual glance. She tried to smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "You asked for a rule, not crime."

And evading death by suddenly becoming the Harbinger of Order was perhaps the worst rule for Elizabeth to have broken. If she had a chance, she would've gone back and reverted it. Except he wouldn't want that, even when it was the natural order of things.

"Why did you do it?" The vibe of the room shifted as Elizabeth continued the sober affair. Her voice returned to normal, a disconnected neutrality in the name of duty. "Archive their memories for a price?"

Shiori with an unreadable look in her eye, gave a pitying smile. "You tell me."

"Shiori…"

" I'll play nice, Liz," Shiori said, leaning back on her knuckles, the smile waning to her mask of neutral lines. "But you know I don't play fair."

No, Shiori doesn't play fair, and that might be the real reason in the end. Shiori was an Archiver of memories, a woman with too much time in her hands. Despite being isolated for so long her mind was coherent, sane and intelligent enough to run laps around previous Harbingers.

Memories…. Memories were just a vessel of information, a tangible living vessel of valuable information. Its why the price to get them back would be worse than the extraction, it's why she doesn't give it away so easily. Memories were a puzzle of life beyond the Cell. It was a sea of subtext and disconnected points of interest that infer so much of the world.

The sin of being a corrupted Harbinger-politician would hand Shiori the intricacies of the political landscape. A Harbinger-warrior who left behind the memory of a tragic death would tell Shiori how monsters adapted in the 10,000 years. Her predecessor, if he ever did it, would've shown how much one hated the burden of the Eternal Flame.

"Because people under-estimate their own memories and how much it gives away," Elizabeth thought out loud, waiting for Shiori's reaction.

The quirk of a smile was the only indication that she was on the right track. But it was swept away as Shiori raised a brow at her. "Would you give it up, your memories?"

"No," Elizabeth said fast—her usual tell of a white lie. "I value the lessons too much." Shiori's face shifted in an instant. The room got colder; and her eyes struck a piercing yellow light. Elizabeth looked away, eyes darting everywhere for a new topic of conversation. "Why is this room white?"

"Because the original dealer wanted to hide me from everyone peeking in, including the Gods. It only activates when you're on this floor," Shiori explained. The sudden directness of it all made Elizabeth turn her way, only to find Shiori's stare waiting for her—and Elizabeth froze under her spotlight.

"Now be honest with me, Liz," Shiori asked. Her voice was gentle despite the cutting edge underneath, a small token of mercy—perhaps her final one. "If your memories didn't have any lessons, and all they had was pain. Would you give it up?"

Her flame was an ember now, mirroring that fateful incident from their failed mission. The past appeared in the darkness of her blinks, a camera roll of black, white and the betrayal of blue. The cruel warmth returning to her skin, the glowing pulse of a flame that replaced a bleeding heart. Her life began, stolen from another.

The Eternal Flame was named aptly so because the holder will remain alive until its colour waned and corroded. Blue to black in the worst of cases, blue to the regular amber through time and Harbingers no longer caring. The only way it can be transferred in its blue state was through a death so brutal not even the flame could fix in time, or the holder chooses to die.

Elizabeth doesn't know what her predecessor did, if her predecessor did anything at all. All she remembered was the suction of her final breath, and the gasp of her first—a kindling for the embers of a blue that wasn't supposed to be protecting her.

When Elizabeth found him, his body was ice cold—abandoned. Dead. His flame was hers now, the responsibilities he ran away from was a pile left on her feet. His death was unprecedented, and she was rightfully blamed as the only other person there. Her title ceremony was a trial—a faux pas since to deny Elizabeth her right to be the Harbinger was to deny the Gods. The funeral was a guillotine, and now the rest of her life will be a coffin in the Cell.

But could Elizabeth find peace giving away the memory? Maybe the self-hate would stop, maybe the hyper-awareness of death would cease. Maybe it would be easier for her to sleep at night, the survivor's guilt vanishing. Out of sight, out of mind.

"I think my questions were answered," Elizabeth said, her voice monotonous and empty. She turned away, avoiding Shiori's face. The walk to the door was heavy, the clack of heels a deafening boom in the silence.

Gone would be the grief and the turbulence of emotions attached to it; the guilt of being alive, the shame of doing her best to live, as well as the betraying hate for her responsibility, and the burden of accepting it regardless of punishment or duty; the distraught yearning for a simpler time would be gone too—so would the frustration from judged as the devil, the weight of being mythologised as 'the perfect Harbinger', or the anger of being powerful yet powerless in a complicit system and maybe, just maybe…she can ignore the haunting realisation that to be the Harbinger of Order was to give up who she was as a person.

But was a peaceful mind worth Shiori's expense?

Elizabeth stopped by the doors again. A sigh left her lips and she forced herself to look over her shoulder back to Shiori. Her lips had a soft curve upwards, a small reassurance that she was fine despite the conversation. Her eyes met Shiori's.

"For the record," Elizabeth called out, "I wouldn't put you in that position, Shiori." Elizabeth opened the door and walked out, turning her head fast before she acknowledged the sharp glint in Shiori's eyes, catching her lie.