Deal with Emma!

The warmth of the memory disarmed her, but only briefly.

Luther's voice broke through her reverie, calm and measured. "How about this? I'll help you get your revenge. I'll find the one who killed you and your brother and hand them over to you." He pulled his hand away, his posture relaxed as he crossed his arms. "How's that for a reward?"

Emma blinked, her expression shifting from surprise to disbelief. Then she burst into laughter, a sharp, mocking sound that echoed in the confined space.

"Revenge?" she scoffed. "What could *you* possibly do to help me with that? The one who killed me? He's not just anyone. He's a member of the Grendel Province elite! You have no idea what you're up against."

Luther's calm smile didn't falter. He simply shrugged. "I know."

Emma's laughter faltered, her mirth replaced by a flicker of confusion. "You *know*?" she repeated, incredulous. "Then you must know he's surrounded by high-ranking extraordinary individuals! Do you think you can just walk in and—"

"Hmm," Luther interjected, his tone as indifferent as if she'd pointed out the weather. His lack of reaction only seemed to heighten Emma's frustration. She gaped at him, words failing her as she tried to process his audacity.

He smiled again, tilting his head slightly. "I'll need about a week to prepare," he continued, his tone conversational. "But in the meantime, I'll need an advance payment. My friend really needs that item of yours."

Emma's confusion gave way to anger. Her expression darkened, and the creature behind her began to ripple and shift, mirroring her rising fury.

"Since you think you can take down *him,*" Emma hissed, her voice dripping with venom, "then dealing with *me* should be easy, right?"

Her body began to transform, the human facade melting away as her features twisted into a grotesque, slimy form. The gelatinous mass that was once Emma surged toward Luther, her half-human, half-monster face leading the charge, teeth bared in a feral snarl.

Luther remained still, his calm demeanor unbroken. As the monstrous form lunged at him, his left hand darted forward, gripping her distorted head with precise force.

"Enough."

From his palm, a shimmering bubble formed, expanding rapidly to envelop Emma's head. The bubble pulsed with an unnatural energy, and within moments, a wave of ancient, otherworldly power surged through her. The effects were immediate. Emma's body, now a mass of black slime, began to convulse, her form softening as the plague-like magic took hold.

The bubble introduced a cocktail of afflictions; paralysis, searing heat, and an overwhelming numbness, all of them designed to subdue without killing. Emma's gelatinous body quivered, then collapsed into a shapeless puddle at Luther's feet.

He crouched down, his voice calm but firm as he spoke to the writhing mass. "I wasn't lying about the revenge, Emma. But if you can't trust me, then you'll leave me no choice but to handle this *my* way. And trust me, you won't like that."

The mass twitched weakly, and from within it, Emma's voice emerged, trembling and strained. "You… really think… you can kill him?"

Luther stood, brushing his hands off as though he'd dealt with nothing more than a minor inconvenience. "I don't think," he replied, his voice cold. "I *know.*"

The puddle of slime began to reform, slowly regaining a semblance of Emma's original shape. Her expression, once mocking and confident, was now filled with a wary respect. For the first time, she seemed to take him seriously.

"What do you want?" she asked, her voice hoarse.

Luther smiled faintly, his eyes glinting with determination. "The truth. All of it. And after that, I'll deal with your killer. You'll get your revenge. But first…" He crouched again, his gaze piercing. "You're going to tell me everything you know about the Church of the Hidden Deep and the connections tying them to Grendel's elite."

Emma hesitated, but the fire in Luther's eyes left her no room for negotiation. She nodded, her voice trembling. "Fine. I'll tell you."

"Good." Luther stood, his posture confident. "Now, let's get to work."

Luther stood there, his hand hovering over Emma's now shrunken figure, a mix of emotions flickering across his face. The change in her appearance was startling. She had regressed into a younger version of herself, small and fragile, her features soft and innocent. The sharp contrast between this childlike form and the grotesque creature she had been moments ago struck a chord deep within him.

He glanced briefly at the decaying corpse of the woman on the floor; the resemblance was unmistakable. This wasn't just some strange transformation; it was a glimpse into the past, into the girl Emma had been before tragedy and vengeance had warped her into what she was now.

"What a beast indeed," he muttered, his voice low, almost to himself. The weight of what had happened to her was palpable in the room. He wasn't just dealing with a monster created by circumstance, he was dealing with a victim, a child who had been wronged beyond repair.

Emma's small voice broke through his thoughts, trembling with both nervousness and expectation. "P-please… just touch my head," she said, her tone almost pleading. "I… I just want to feel it again. Like when my father used to…" Her voice trailed off, and she bit her lip, her face flushed with embarrassment.

Luther hesitated, his usual calculating demeanor momentarily giving way to something softer. He reached out, his hand hovering above her small head for a second before he gently rested it there. His fingers pressed lightly against her hair, moving in slow, deliberate strokes. It wasn't just a gesture; it was an acknowledgment of the innocence she had lost and the pain she had endured.

Emma froze at first, then relaxed under his touch, a faint, trembling smile breaking through her tears. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible. For a moment, the room was silent, the oppressive atmosphere lifting slightly as a sense of calm settled over her.

Luther let his hand linger for a moment longer before pulling away. "Emma," he said softly, his tone unusually gentle, "you've been through more than anyone should ever have to endure. But holding onto this pain, letting it consume you; it's not going to bring back what you've lost."

Her small hands gripped the edge of the table as she looked up at him, her eyes wide and glassy. "But what else can I do?" she asked, her voice cracking. "They took everything from me… my brother, my life, my name. All I have left is my hatred."

"And I'll help you with that," Luther replied, his voice steady. "But vengeance isn't about destruction; it's about balance. You want justice, not just blood. If you let this hatred rule you, you'll lose what's left of yourself. Do you understand?"

Emma stared at him for a long moment, her face conflicted. Then she nodded slowly, her small frame trembling. "I… I think I do," she whispered.

Luther straightened, his sharp gaze turning to the decaying corpses again. "Now, about that item you promised me," he said, his tone shifting back to business. "I'll keep my end of the deal, but I need it, now."

Emma wiped her face with the back of her hand, her childlike form making the action seem even more pitiful. She nodded and gestured toward a cabinet in the corner of the room. "It's in there," she said. "I've kept it safe all these years. But…" She hesitated, her eyes darting to the floor. "It's dangerous. Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

Luther smirked faintly, his confidence returning. "Dangerous is my specialty," he said, striding over to the cabinet. He opened it carefully, revealing a small, intricately carved wooden box. The moment he touched it, he felt a faint hum of energy, a low thrum that sent a shiver through his hand.

"Is this it?" he asked, glancing back at Emma.

She nodded, her face serious. "It's a piece of him," she said quietly. "The one who killed us. I don't know how it ended up here, but I've been guarding it, waiting for the chance to use it against him."

Luther examined the box closely, his sharp eyes taking in every detail. "A piece of him," he repeated, his voice thoughtful. "This could be the key to everything."

He turned back to Emma, his expression unreadable. "You've been holding onto this for a long time. I'll make sure it's not wasted."

Emma's small form seemed to relax, a faint smile breaking through her weary features. "Thank you," she whispered. "I… I believe you."

Luther nodded, tucking the box carefully into his coat. "Stay here," he said firmly. "I'll take care of the rest."

As he turned to leave, Emma called out softly, "Luther?"

He paused, glancing back over his shoulder. "What is it?"

"Do you really think I can be… Emma again?" she asked, her voice fragile.

Luther's expression softened just slightly. "You've always been Emma," he said. "You just need to remember that."

With that, he turned and walked out into the night, the wooden box humming faintly against his chest. The road ahead was dangerous, and the enemies he faced were powerful. But with the secrets he now held, he was one step closer to unraveling the truth, and delivering the justice Emma so desperately sought.