Arc One: Awakening

Chapter 18: Helping Hand

Seedy didn't even begin to define the hotel lounge Esther found herself in. Despite the smudgeless reflective walls and intricate golden rivers running geometric patterns on the surfaces, the stench of dirty dealings and dodgy trades was impossible to mask. Passing by, shadowed faces glimpsed her with disinterest, and smirks of satisfaction sealed agreements. At a booth, a poor soul wept while the perfumed suit facing him reclined to watch the spectacle he had orchestrated. Esther heard a stream of pleas, but they were swiftly muted.

Mechanised servers on squeaky wheels delivered drinks, navigating the cluster of central tables and chairs. A spitting threat followed the clatter of a tray as a grizzled customer shoved at the unlucky assistant, and the silver machine behind the bar cocked his head to the others before returning to his tap-cleaning duties.

At least I'm not the only one involved in shifty business, Esther thought to herself. Her guide led her to a private booth at the far end of the lounge and waved a flat palm to the plump seats.

"Please, sit," he said. "Unless you would like to conduct our conversation standing. It wouldn't be the strangest request I've had, but I'm more than happy to comply."

"You're happy to comply because you assume you'll get what you want," Esther asserted, perching herself on the velvet bench and locking her stony gaze onto him.

He held the contact with a cold, unwavering stare while giving his commands to the bodyguards, captivated by the faint flecks of amber in the sage green. Her eyes glimmered with vibrancy, exuding an energy and life that he rarely witnessed in Lumen. There was certainly an otherworldly essence to her. In that respect, his employers were correct. But everything else seemed exaggerated. Contrary to the whispers, it was not a supernatural entity in their midst, but a mere young woman. Steadfast, perhaps, but not incorruptible. Resolved, but not wholly out of reach for his talents.

Esther scoffed at his attempt to intimidate her and noticed her reflection in the ceiling. She had been so consumed by her work she hadn't even thought to check a mirror in weeks. The woman staring back at her appeared persistent and unpolished, a complete contrast to the poised and put-together girl who had first entered through the gateways all those months ago.

She couldn't help but admire her new image. A thrill kindled within her at the dirt on her face, the grime in her fingernails, and the steeled intensity that could have fought off a thousand battle-hardened warriors. Hours of intense study in the academy library convinced her she knew what focus was, but now she truly understood what forms it took and what it tasted like. It wasn't just the acquisition of knowledge; it was the strength to use it.

The slick-haired man sat down with a flourish, unbuttoning his blazer and fanning out the sides like a peacock on display. "Apologies, but protocol needs to be adhered to, and my bodyguards must have their orders."

"Makes me wonder who the robots are," Esther mused, resting her forearms on the glossy table. "The servers or your guards. Seems nobody around here dares to move an inch without explicit instruction."

"That is how structure is kept," the man replied, amused by her astute observations. "I am Ralph Gridley, representative of the industry families." He extended a hand and withdrew it again when she pointedly refused to entertain his civility. "And your name is?"

Esther's eyebrow quirked, and she sank into the firm cushions behind her, crossing one leg over the other and tapping her foot as though she had somewhere else to be. "If you're going to arrest me, or attempt to use some barbaric practice, I would advise you not to."

A server approached their table with a squeak and set down two glasses of a clear, fizzing liquid. Ralph mopped the beads of condensation from his glass with a napkin and took a sip.