Outside it was cold, colder every day. Claire wrapped her arms around her body and stumbled away from the Omega’s haven. There had been no direction in her death march, but somehow she found herself standing at the edge of the Thólos water reserve. The top had crusted with ice, covered in white as blank and colorless as she had become inside. But if she squinted, she could see through it to a world of water, where everything was washed clean.

Tucking a loose piece of hair behind her ear, she shivered and waited for the cloud heavy sky outside the Dome to glow. Just as it turned an off-shade of pink, Claire felt that if she allowed any pleasure from such a moment, pain would seep through instead. The only way to continue was to feel nothing forever. So she took a step forward, then another one, and alone out in the earliest gloomy light of the morning, Claire walked the ice.

There was no question of hesitation; her work was done. She had completed her mission, given everything she could. She had earned her release from prison. Air crisp on her face, the unmistakable smell of cold, it began to soothe where salty tears burned her cheeks.

Those first steps and the ice already began to whisper complaint. The next ten paces were met with misleading silence. Claire chose to fill the quiet with the customary Omega prayer whispered into the wind:

“Beloved Goddess of Omegas, great Mother who nurtures and protects, I thank you for the life you granted me.”

It was not until she was standing near the center of the reservoir before the sound she anticipated arrived—the crushing threat of cracks and imminent death.

“I am your image. I am your delight. For you hold me in your care. Watch over the world—”

“Do not move, little one.”

The first thought at hearing the sound of that commanding voice was that she should have known he would be there. The devil would have to witness her final moments. There could have been no other way.

Her focus left the horizon and moved down towards her feet, to the fractured pattern that bloomed under her stolen boots. Claire sucked in a slow breath, felt it stretch her chest, and glanced over her shoulder. “The city is a horror show and I don’t have anything left. You win, Shepherd.”

“You willfully misunderstand.” The urgent coarseness of his voice was insistent… nervous. “Svana would have killed you had I not—”

Claire felt her mouth form a small smile at the man behind her. “At least I know what made you the way you are. It wasn’t only your life in the Undercroft. It was her.”

Shepherd held out his hand, his eyes wide and unblinking. “It was the only way I could appease her and keep you.”