“That was the agreed price” Alex stated firmly, exhaling a puff of smoke that slowly dissolved into the air. Her legs were casually open, the posture showing a hint of recklessness and confidence she’d built after years in the business. Her grim expression, accentuated by deep shadows under her eyes from a hangover that felt like a demon had taken residence in her skull, added to her unfriendly demeanor. She leaned against the table between them, her sharp green eyes fixed on the customer in front of her, a burly man with a nervous gaze, trying to play tough.

  Fucking hell. The last thing she needed that morning was to negotiate with a pathetic cheapskate.

  "I really think you might want to consider lowering the price… The job was easy enough,” he insisted, attempting to assert some dominance. “Besides, it is not like the drawing would fetch much at an auction.”

  “Easy, huh?” Alex let out a cold laugh, allowing the smoke from her cigarette to curl lazily around her face. “If it was so easy, why didn’t you do it yourself, you fucking asshole? Or hire one of those shitty agencies down the alleyway?” She leaned back, eyes unwavering. “I won’t let my work be cheapened by your whims.”

  The man frowned at her words, but Alex stood her ground, leaning forward just enough to make sure he understood clearly. “I don’t give a shit about its auction value, that’s your problem,” she said coldly. “And you should already know that at Ironhands Solutions, we don’t do refunds.” She tilted her head towards a sign on the wall:

  The customer swallowed hard, clearly unnerved by the steely look in her eyes and the edge in her voice. Alexandria’s reputation preceded her—a fearsome one, earned through sheer grit and more than a few necessary demonstrations. That kind of standing didn’t build itself. After a tense moment, he nodded slowly, clearly conceding to more than just the price. “Fine, fine. I will accept it.”

  Alex’s lips curled in a forced smile as she extended her hand to seal the deal. ‘Always a pleasure doing business with an Atlans,’ she lied, gritting her teeth as she shook his hand.

  As the man pulled a couple of bags of gold coins from the inside of his fine silk robe, Alex stood up, striding toward her safe. She opened it with a swift motion, retrieving the small painting of Lunaris and placing it carefully in front of him. In exchange, she took the bags, weighing them in her hand to confirm they contained the agreed amount of gold.

  “For the love of the gods,” he whispered, tracing the painting with trembling fingers. “I cannot believe I finally got her…”

  Alex frowned, feeling a churn of disgust rise in her stomach. The way he said it was unsettling. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you want to do with that, don’t do it here,” she warned, turning back to her safe to stash the gold.

  “I would never do anything like that! She is… she is sacred.”

  “Uh-huh.” She smiled, the cigarette perched between her lips as her hands busied themselves arranging the bags of gold among the other treasures she kept inside. She could feel the weight of his gaze on her.

  “You barbarians would not understand,” he said, his tone dripping with condescension.

  Alex raised an eyebrow, slamming the safe door shut a bit harder than necessary. Idiot.

  “Hey, watch it, buddy. If I were you, I wouldn’t insult the person who’s got you locked up in her house,” she warned, her voice cool but edged with a hint of menace.

  The client shifted uneasily; his discomfort palpable as he clutched the painting of Selene against his chest. He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. “W-well… Uh, I really must be going,” he stammered, glancing around as if the walls were closing in on him. “Thank you once again for the commission.”

  Alex leaned back against the edge of her desk, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips as she tucked her hands into the pockets of her baggy pants, the fabric adorned with metallic studs that embellished the worn-out seams. “The pleasure was all yours,” she shot back, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

  Customer service wasn’t exactly her strong suit.

  As he awkwardly maneuvered around the room, eager to make his exit, she couldn’t help but find it amusing how cowardly Atlans could be beneath all their wealth and imposing attires.

  She couldn't help but harbor a deep resentment toward Atlas, that neighboring city perched arrogantly atop its cliffs, reaching for the heavens as if it had no need for the rest of them. The Atlans lived in luxury, their gleaming towers of glass and polished bronze reflecting the sunlight she seldom saw. Their streets were paved with marble, their gardens suspended in the air, and their fountains flowed with a precision that bordered on arrogance. Everything there was so perfect, meticulously arranged to exude wealth and elegance, a far cry from the harsh, hellish depths of Ironforge.

  Ironforge was her home, Ironforge was her home, a city buried beneath the earth, where metal clanged, and steam hissed without end. It was a world where nothing grew, where food was scarce and expensive, and the very air was suffocating, thick with the acrid scent of metal and coal smoke. It was a city built on sweat and toil, with massive forges and factories churning out weapons, armored vehicles, and machines day and night. The city fed on the looming threat of war, its heart fueled by the never-ending labor of the mines, which tore precious resources from the earth’s core. The military council controlled the gold reserves, supposedly to keep the city running, though a single coin could cover a year’s rent for an office like Alex’s.

  The poor and the miners lived in the depths, near the mines, where the air was thin and every breath a struggle. Above them, closer to the surface, the wealthy basked in the rare rays of sunlight and fresh air, luxuries reserved for those who could afford them. In contrast, Atlas was a dream, untouched by the grime and suffering that clung to Ironforge like a second skin. Atlas had no need for the grueling labor of the mines or the ceaseless production of weapons. Its people wore elegant clothes adorned with golden gears, dedicating their lives to the arts, religion, and trade.

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  In Ironforge, the only gods they knew were the commanders and the council, who ruled with iron fists, keeping the city in line through sheer force and discipline. It was a military state, where every decision served either industry or the army. The difference between the two cities was stark. In Atlas, progress came draped in beauty; in Ironforge, it came at the cost of countless lives.

  She hated Atlas for it, for their neutrality in global conflicts, their easy prosperity, and their distance from the harsh realities of places like Ironforge. While they gazed at the stars and sought wisdom from their constellations, she and her people labored in the depths, with no light to guide them but the fiery glow of the forges. Atlas had the luxury to worship Lunaris, to believe in the restoration of magic through the stars. In Ironforge, they worshipped survival, and every breath they took was a battle won.

  She had only visited that secluded city once, a little before her grandmother ended up in the hospital. The old woman, stubborn as a rusty, worn-out cog, had spent all her savings to bring Alexandria to the Temple of Lunaris on the anniversary of the fall of the Old Regime, insisting she receive a blessing from the temple’s priests. Alex remembered little of the visit. Only that she had fasted for days beforehand, worn clean, new clothes, and bruised her knees during the endless hours her grandmother kept her praying, begging for a life she would never have and for foolish blessings that would never come.

  But there was one thing she could never forget: the statue of Lunaris. Gleaming white and flawless, it had been carved with such exquisite skill that the goddess’s robes seemed like silk rather than stone, her beauty so profound that even the most stubborn atheist might have been swayed to faith.

  With a quiet sigh, Alex pulled herself from the memory. Dwelling on useless dreams of temples and statues was pointless. Here, beneath the layers of steel and soot, faith was a luxury they couldn’t afford. She shrugged on her worn jacket, the fabric stiff and smelling faintly of smoke, a reminder of where she truly belonged. She had barely begun fastening the buttons when the door creaked open, and Rizz stepped into the room, breaking her solitude.

  "Those fucking pricks," Rizz shouted, tossing his bag onto the floor and sprawling onto the couch, looking as if he’d been sucker-punched. "Can you believe it? Four bloody silvers for one, just one damn pass to the upper district."

  Alex’s brow furrowed. "What? That can’t be right. They just raised the price a couple of weeks ago."

  Rizz dug out the pass, holding it up between his middle and index fingers like he was about to throw it away. " Guess those bastards either need even more cash or just don’t want us ‘down-dwellers’ anywhere near their precious district. Anyway, you owe me for this one."

  "Right, right." Alex took the ticket and tucked it into her jacket pocket. "Thanks. I’ll pay you back."

  Rizz grinned, looking as if he’d just struck gold. "You can start by getting me a bottle of that Ironfrost juniper liquor next time."

  Alex raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You actually like that stuff?"

  "Only once you get past the taste. Remember that sludge they called fish-bone liquor? Made Yurith puke all over herself—it was like… drinking something dredged up from the depths of the mines."

  The memory made Alex wrinkle her nose, stomach turning slightly. "I’d rather forget."

  "Never could if I tried." Rizz stared off into space with a faux-serious expression, like he was contemplating life’s biggest mysteries. "But hey, at least here in Ironforge we don’t have to worry about freezing our asses off like they do in Ironfrost."

  Alex shrugged, smirking. "They’re probably saying the same about us—roasting down here and breathing in coal dust."

  "Charming, as always," Rizz muttered with a roll of his eyes. "Anyway, off to see the old lady, huh?"

  "Yeah. And don’t worry. I’m not about to forget the twins are coming tonight," Alex said with a half-smile, waving as she stepped out of their hidden den, leaving Rizz to his musings in the dim, gritty light of Ironforge.

  _______________

  The hospital in the upper district was so bright that it almost hurt Alex’s eyes. It was a different world up there: beautiful gardens, towering windows that looked out over the pristine, white city of Atlas, its skyline stretching toward the heavens. From the moment she stepped inside, she felt eyes on her. The cautious glances from staff and passing visitors. Her worn clothes and leather jacket stood out in that place, and though that might have riled her up on another day, today, her only focus was the room at the end of the hall.

  “Gran,” she said softly as she stepped in. Her grandmother looked up, her face brightening with a smile as she reached out, her frail hand curling around Alex’s.

  “Alex, my dear… I wasn’t expecting you today!”

  “Got the day off work.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. She did have the day off, though not from her real line of work.

  She pulled one of the decorative chairs from the corner and turned it backward by the bedside, straddling it so the backrest was in front of her. Reaching out, she offered her hand to her grandmother, whose eyes softened with concern.

  “Are you doing all right?” her grandmother asked quietly, her tone weighted with worry. “You look so tired these days, sweetheart.”

  Sighing, her grandmother took Alex’s hand, her frail fingers tracing the leather of Alex’s gloves, as if hoping to smooth away the tension held within them. “You shouldn’t be doing this. You shouldn’t break your back just to keep me here.”

  “Don’t worry, Gran. I’m doing fine,” Alex said, forcing a small smile she hoped was convincing. “I haven’t done anything dangerous, just… normal jobs.”

  Her grandmother’s brow furrowed as she scanned Alex’s face, her pale eyes searching, looking for any sign of truth beneath the surface. Alex held the smile, as steadily as she could manage.

  “You know, I’m not so easy to fool,” her grandmother said quietly, looking down before meeting Alex’s gaze again. “I’d be fine anywhere, sweetheart… You don’t have to make all these sacrifices for me.”

  Alex shook her head, giving her grandmother’s hand a gentle squeeze. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather have you. Besides... where else would they bring the latest city gossip right to your bedside, huh?"

  Before her grandmother could respond, the door opened, and the nurse stepped in with the day’s newspaper folded under her arm, as usual.

  “See? Just in time.” Alex raised an eyebrow, sharing a knowing look with her grandmother. The nurse offered a polite smile and set it down on the bedside table.

  “Here’s your newspaper, Ms. Esther,” she said kindly.

  “Thank you, dear,” her grandmother replied, returning the smile. As soon as the nurse left, she reached for the paper, playfully tapping Alex on the shoulder with it.

  “Don’t bother me. I just like to read it from time to time.”

  “Uh-huh,” Alex nodded, fully aware that it was a blatant lie. Her grandmother couldn’t go a single day without reading that piece of paper.

  She crossed her arms over the back of the chair, a subtle smile barely noticeable on her lips as she watched her grandmother unfurl the newspaper with a focused look.

  Immediately, the headline caught her eye but before she could do anything, her grandmother’s face fell, shock and dismay darkening her features as she took in the news.

  

  A large photograph of the painting of Lunaris —the white, flawless deity with her serene gaze and delicate robes— dominated the front page.

  “Who would do such a dreadful thing?” her grandmother whispered, her voice trembling. “Stealing something so sacred… it’s monstrous.”

  Alex licked her lips, swallowing the lump in her throat as tension stiffened her entire body.

  “I don’t know…” she replied, her tone flat, devoid of any emotion.

  Fortunately, her grandmother didn’t notice; she seemed lost in thought, still staring at the paper, murmuring to herself about the loss. Alex shifted her gaze to the window, where the gardens lay in the warm light, the white tower of Atlas gleaming in the distance.

  “The worst kind of monster, I suppose,” she added quietly.