A maid did indeed enter the room when Craytia left. She bowed low with respect. The first thing Aysha noticed was how old she looked. The woman's frame was rather petite and fragile. Her hair was already gray and her skin was sagging. Her brown eyes were dull with no obvious emotion shining through them.

Aysha slid off the bed as the maid stood back up and opened the door for her. Aysha didn't bother asking for her name. She'd come back for everyone else later, but for now, she had to focus on the mission in front of her.

They walked in silence as Aysha slowly turned around, gaping in awe, at the grandness of Craytia's home. The staircase went both and had a silver banister. The stairs themselves were as white as could be. Maids mulled about dusting and cleaning every little thing.

Aysha walked up the stairs, the maid leading the way silently as she enjoyed the feeling of the cool metal on her skin.

When they arrived at her room, Aysha had to admit that it was just as splendid. The walls were a creamy color and the bed looked like it could belong to a person of royalty with the light blue drapes hanging on the sides. Beside the bed was a small table with a lamp, drawers, and a digital clock. Aysha walked toward the glass doors that slid open to a beautifully spacious balcony. As much as she enjoyed the treatment, Aysha wished that people who had come from her origins could also experience the same thing.

The sun was high in the sky which meant that it was afternoon. Aysha was part of the unlucky few that didn't have a phone. She had relied on the TVs in shops and on the height of the sun to figure out the time.

She turned around and faced the maid who stood in the corner.

"Are you done inspecting your room ma'am?" The maid asked.

Aysha nodded. "Please take me to Craytia."

The maid nodded and opened the door to lead her down the many doors until they stopped at a hallway. They continued walking in, but Aysha felt uneasy. With it's dimmed lights and the sound of your feet echoing, the hallway gave off creepy vibes as though someone could jump out.

I need to ask for my gun back, Aysha thought to herself.

The gun was important to her. She had gotten the gun when she had newly escaped from her blood-filled home. Regularly, a child couldn't simply have a gun unless they'd bought it or stolen it. Aysha's case was different. While hiding in an alley and sobbing silently at the loss of her parents. A strange man had thrown a gun her way. His long white hair had red streaks in it and it hung to his waist. Unusual, seeing as males in Orenda never let their hair grow out that long. Young Aysha had wondered whether the stranger was a noble, but nobles wouldn't waste their time showing kindness to the lower class. She hadn't gotten a glimpse of his face or seen hima again after he promptly disappeared, but she'd always been thankful to him.

"Mistress Craytia lies beyond the door." While the maid's statement had been simple, her words were haunting and dark.

Aysha opened the door and stepped in, closing the door behind her with a small click. Aysha's gun lay on the wooden desk that Craytia sat behind. Papers were neatly stacked in one corner of the desk. Other than that, there was nothing else with color in the room. It was bare.Craytia gestured to the brown leather chair and Aysha sat in it silently, eyeing Craytia.

"You know, you're one of the only people who's ever amused me up to this point."

Amused her?

"All of my previous sponsors just went limp when they learned that it had probably been poisoned. Some of them welcomed the prospect of death, hoping they could leave our hell behind. You kept fighting and actually tried to strangle me. I could see it in your eyes. The determination and hunger. The fire that will destroy anyone who gets in your way with no mercy. I like you, and simply to be sure, you will kill someone for me."

Craytia folded her hands on top of the desk.

All Aysha asked was one simple question. "Who?"

Craytia pushed a photo of a boy that looked to be no older than fifteen. Aysha's breath caught in her throat. She'd kill people, yes, but not children. That was one line she couldn't cross. Craytia chuckled.

"Ah, I can see you're on those morally right people. You don't want to kill him, correct? He's a rapist and I'd like him dead."

What the boy did was inexcusable, but did it truly merit the right to kill him? He had a life ahead of him. An entire life to change himself.

Aysha's face tensed up as she clenched her fists in her lap. She was conflicted. Kill a child now and be rewarded in the long run or fight now and die in the long run?