The autumn sunlight cut through the drifting mist over the civic plaza, illuminating the three trapped demons cowering in the center.
Cessy stepped forward past the defensive line, rolling up the left sleeve of her tunic to expose the crimson mark branded upon her flesh.
It was an intricate imperial audit sigil, glowing with faint void light that linked her to the administrative registries of the underworld.
For thirty years of wandering and exile, that mark served as her secret, unburned return ticket to the realm of her birth.
She drew a hunting dagger from her ankle sheath, holding the sharp tip directly over the center of the pulsing brand.
Lucan watched her from three paces away, his breath hitching as he recognized the irreversible magnitude of her chosen action.
"Cessy, you do not have to burn the ticket today!" he called out, his voice trembling with thirty years of shared grief.
