A Woman's Redemption

London, 1790.

Zarina dashed through the streets, her boots slapping against the rough cobblestone as her cloak rustled against the wind, her brown hair covering her pale face.

A rusty coin dangled from her neck, its surface glistening with silver light as it danced and bobbed while she turned into the dirty alleyways, leaving the bustling city behind. Her face remained stoic, jumping over puddles of water while she panted lightly, the sound of crying children and rumbling carriages breaking the silence of the night.

Her eyes constantly scanned the surroundings, her steps light as she ignored the people sprawled across the ground, her nose wrinkling from the smell. She muttered inaudibly under her breath, her brows furrowed, pain-filled groans filling the silence of the narrow passage. With practiced ease, she navigated the alleyway- which seemed to be more of a labyrinth, each turn faster than the last.

She left the twisting passages, her breath light as her feet hit the ground faster, light taps echoing around the empty streets. Approaching a grand estate, Zarina's gaze flitted to the guards stationed at every entrance, guarded by men armed with swords and pistols, which sat in a hostler on their hips.

She scoffed under her breath, rolling her eyes as she scaled the mansion's walls, her gaze fixed on the patrolling guards. Her stare flickered now and then, her barely visible eyes shining with what looked like anticipation, her arm brushing by her sides. Her digits ran through her hair as she concealed herself behind a tree, her gloved hand seeking the comfort of the daggers strapped to her thigh. A rough plan formed in her mind, her mouth moving imperceptibly as she dashed out, slinking along the perimeter of the mansion.

Her steps continued to tap lightly on the paved floors, her fingers grazing the ivy-laden bricks. Her body melded with the darkness, the coin attached to her neck occasionally covering itself with a sheen of sliver. She fit herself into a window, landing on her hands as she rolled, breaking her fall.

The room she landed in was dimly lit, her gaze landing on a candle swaying from the wind coming in from the now open window. The silver candlestick reflected her dark silhouette, her head whipping around the room as she slowly closed the window.

She touched the coin hanging from her neck, rubbing it while walking to the door, her words barely audible.

"It has to be here."

The coin gleamed again, a silver hue gracing its surface as it shone lightly onto the walls of the room. Conversations from the patrolling wardens wafted into the room, the warm ambience of the room reflecting on to her pale face, a smile gracing her features as she placed her hand on the door's handle.

"There is certainly one here."

The silhouette of the intruder left the room, the door creaking as it swung on its hinges, the candlelight swaying gently. She removed her cloak, throwing it to a dark corner as the cadence of her ever-increasing stride blended into the whispers that travelled through the mansion's walls.

Her pace never slowed, her lithe figure turning into nothing more than a momentary blur as her feet found a flight of stairs, steps muffled as they pounded on the carpet.

The rumors that ran on the streets spoke of a library that held priceless pieces of art, courtesy to the habits of the wealthy lord that owned the mansion. She found herself in front of the door to the library, her gloved hand hovering over the handle. Her head whipped around, her ears catching the distant sound of marching boots, a little grimace hovering above her eyebrows.

Popping into the room, She removed her necklace as the silver coin glistened softly in the candlelight, shaking lightly, Zarina's murky eyes brightening up.

The coin suddenly shook itself out of her hands onto the marble floors, bouncing erratically against the marble floors as her foot shot out to silence the shrill noise, eyes widening as panic filled her face.

"Bloody hell." She muttered, her brows furrowed before her eyes landed on a pouch on the polished table by the corner of the room, her gaze narrowed. The pouch was quickly in her hand, the coin ringing louder than ever as she loosened the old string. A gasp escaped her lips as her eyes shone in amazement, her gaze transfixed on the rusted bronze coins that filled the bag. The circles etched on the surfaces of the coins however, remained clear, the little drawings on its edges confusing her the longer she looked at them.

"Shite." Her awe suddenly turned into fear, horror painting itself on her face as she turned around, only to be met by the figure of an old man that stared at her in silence, his hand on an exquisite cane as he scanned the room, looking at the thief that had broken into his house.

His weathered gaze flickered to the coin on the ground, a little smile appearing on his face as he spoke, his voice low and raspy.

"Who gave you that coin?"

Zarina remained silent, her eyes scanning the room for a chance to escape. The old man relaxed his stance, her eyes catching the change as she shot for the door, the old man's eyes following her movements.

The old man shot forward with unnatural speed, swinging his cane against her stomach as her body slammed against the shelves. Zarina winced in pain, the impact knocking the wind out of her. She crumpled to the ground, clutching her abdomen and gasping for breath. The books tumbled around her, their pages fluttering and settling on the floor.

"I will ask again. Who gave you that coin?" He said slowly as the smile left his face, his grip switching to the bottom of the cane as she continued to heave, struggling to stand on top of the fluttering books.

"I…I found it." She said in between her painful breaths, her hair ruffled as her pale face came into view, blood leaking from a corner of her lips.

"Unlikely." He grunted, hitting her by the side again, sending her to the other side of the room, a stifled scream escaping her lips. The old man continued, his grip on the cane tight as he spoke slowly.

"Who are you? One of the varenthains' scouts?"

Zarina picked herself up, turning around slowly as she spoke, her voice soft with her hand clutched on her stomach, "The Last Man…The Last Man gave it to me."

The old man paused, his eyes widening in recognition as his grip on the cane loosened slightly. The door then swung open, a tall woman dressed in a light gown walking in briskly, a similar necklace sitting on her neck as she turned to the old man, her face contorted in annoyance.

"What's the problem here?! I am trying to sleep, Damn it all!"

The old man shook his head, pointing to Zarina who was still heaving slowly on the ground, his voice unsure.

"She possessed a sepharic crest and displayed proficiency at using it. Claimed to know the Last Man."

The woman turned to look at her, her pale skin visible underneath the candlelight as she smiled, her red lips parting as she spoke, her eyes shining.

"What is the code of honor?"

Zarina wheezed, her brown eyes meeting the woman's eyes as she spoke softly, "Beauty in Death."

The woman paused, recognition filling her face while she laughed, her eyes crinkled as she held her shoulders, a full grin on her face, "That old man still hasn't changed! You really know my father!"

Zarina's battered face shone with surprise as the woman continued, seemingly enjoying the expression on her face, "You need to sleep now though."

She suddenly swung her fist, knocking Zarina out cold as she turned around, the smile plastered on her face as she turned to the old man, rubbing her fist.

"We need to change the guards."