Lunar District is a dense city. It was nestled deep in the forestry environment of Haeven. In this district, space was a material unit of wealth. It was exclusive to those of noble birth who could afford mansions in these woods; that didn't stop nobles from waving their huge, meaningless house to one another. Indoor gardens were the subtle gloat of the local nobles, where they hosted tea parties to tell all the others how better and richer they were than everyone else. The only reason Cinder's father, that gelid man, built one in their residence. 

As much as she hated him, she couldn't decimate how joyous the memories she had in that garden. Nevertheless, she felt guilty as she looked at the cluttered buildings around them. They were walking down the semi-empty stone streets in the dead of midnight. Despite the massive amount of lumber and natural resources the district distributes, the Lunar District is considered the poorest of all six districts. Lunar citizens lived in these large stone townhouses that were often cramped and had to be shared with other families. People like merchants, blacksmiths, and those alike lived above their areas of business. 

Local nobles, as she hated, weren't required to have a standard of responsibility to their working citizens. Yet, Lunar had the worst record of abuse from nobles. And to add venom to her blood, her father would later cozy up with Duke Thorax, who wants to overtake this city. 

Clde grabbed her shoulder, gesturing his head over to an empty alleyway covered in mossy dirt. They ventured down until they met a dead-end, where a seemingly passed out old, rugged man occupied with a beer bottle by his side. The old man lifted his head as they approached him. His hand twitched towards something on his side. Cinder reached for her sword on her side before Clyde softly held her wrist. "I will see nothing, hear nothing, nor confess to anything," he whispered. The old man rises, with Cinder's eyes intensely focused on him. A protruding circular rock became in view once the man rose. He pushed into the wall with a barely audible click. The wall rumbles as it slowly slides open, revealing a staircase leading down to the underground. Clyde gave Cinder a cocky grin as she sighed and removed her hand from the helm. 

The ascending stairs underneath the city were narrow and solely held by hardened wooden beams. Every step-down Cinder taked softly rang down throughout the walls. The pathway was illuminated by green-flame torches shining onto the steps. As they moved down to the lower floor, Cinder could hear the faintest sound of music; the music became louder and louder. Once down to the floor, everything became clear to Cinder about the nature of the Underbellies. It was no wonder for an area once constructed to be underground railroad systems connecting all six districts to become the underbellies. It was almost godly how high the ceiling was from the ground, held up by complex steel beams. It could fit any small building structure in its belly, and no one would be the wiser. Hell, Cinder thought as she listened to the faint music that now rang through every inch of her ears; I was no wiser to hear any of the chaos below from above. She gazes at the sight of children; they are running around with strange boxes to merchants' stands, selling arcane wares. Drunken musicians played on the side of the mix-match streets, singing their hearts out to an uncaring crowd. She could feel being eyed by young harlots looking for the next payout. Her cheeks flushed as she pulled her hood down to cover more of her face. Clyde wrapped his arm around her shoulders as the crowd started to appear; they all smelt like smoke and ale. 

Soon, a tavern came into view; there were sounds of drunken infighting, jokes, and pleasurable wares ringing throughout. Clyde removed his arm from Cinder with a heavy sigh as he stared down the building. Cinder patted his back in comfort with a reassuring smile. 

Within the tavern, the chaos was evermore present. Still, this was the spot in the Underbellies where many people of interest connected for whatever deeds. It was the only viable place to meet with Lady “Freak” or, well, at least an employee of hers: Griffith Heathcliff. A man who seemed quite busy with a table full of pretty women, giggling and held by every word that came out of his mouth. Along with piles of silver and copper coins on the tables with multiple cups of ale. His mouth moved for another corny joke that made the women squeal in glee. Clearly busy. 

Cinder walks up to the busy table and digs inside her cloak. Griffith held up his hand, stopping her in front of the table. “Listen, mate, I ain’t looking for trouble tonight. And, I’m also going to suggest not trying anything here,” he said as Cinder noticed the malicious eyes of others that lingered on her hand that remained inside her cloak. Twitchy bastards seemed to be a constant in her life, be it her past or current life. She knew it wouldn’t change now, especially in a place like here. 

“Not here to do such a thing. Though, I bet I could take every last bastard here with my mate,” she cocked her head over to Clyde, who gave her, in response, a glare. 

“Hah. Then look, if you are here for any business, I’m clearly occupied at the moment,” Griffith said as he squeezed a girl into his arm, “You can wait until maybe morning or-”

Cinder pulled a pouch from her cloak. She untied the strings holding the bag close, opening to the blinding shine of piles of gold coins. “Could this persuade you to change availability right now?” She smirked. 

Griffith nearly threw the woman off his arm as he jumped out of his chair with the utmost excitement. He quickly brushed himself off and straightened up his clothes. The sneaking man soon managed to appear to Cinder’s side. Without another word, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and started leading her towards a room in the back, despite the many protests of the women. Inside the backroom of the tavern, it was cold and damp. A single table with one measly candle provided dim light to an otherwise dark room. Griffith and Cinder sat at opposite ends of each other as Clyde stood behind Cinder. 

“So,” Griffith spoke first, “What, or may I say, who are looking for?” 

“I’m here for Miss ‘Freak’,” She interrupted as she placed the pouch on the table. "

Griffith blinked his eyes before analyzing Cinder over; she did the same. In this new light, she realized Griffith looked much younger than she imagined. She reckons he might be in his early twenties, if not in his late teens. His eyes were a sharp, dark brown with a brown buzz cut. His clothes were dripped in dark green and gold.

She tilted her head, “Trying to imprint my image in your head?” 

“I may have misplaced an assumption of you. I thought…you know- a Lady or a Lord?”

“Excuse me?” 

Griffith shakes his head, “I’m trying to ask if you want to be a Lady or Lord?”

“Lady,” She said softly. 

He breathed a sigh of relief, “As much as I want to help you, Beth is currently out of town and-”

“Beth. Her name is Beth?” She murmured. 

“Ah yes, her name is Beth, and that’s pretty much all I know about her.”

Beth. That name is Beth. It was a name that felt so familiar yet so strange. In her past life, Cinder never indeed ever met with Beth. In fact, her father found Beth in her stead, not due to love for her nor to support her transition, but to control every part of her life. However, Beth sounded like she heard before, somewhere in her old life. She prioritized scanning her diary again for any information or documentation of Beth in her former life. 

“So I can’t currently help you now. I can send a letter to Miss Beth, but-” his eyes glaze over to the pouch, “I can tell her a new client is expecting her.”

Cinder chuckled at the prominent display of his hunger for gold, “I don’t need her now. In fact, I’m asking you to help me stay in contact with her.”

“Excuse me, now?”

"You see, this is not the only payment. You see, soon, there is a possibility of a verdict from the imperial emperor of lowering the military age for young knights to join the war effort." Clyde's eyes flash over to Cinder in shock. She heaved a sigh, "Which would include me." A small fifteen-year-old who did nothing but train to be a knight only to be pulled into a slaughterhouse. She lived through that hell for that honor, the honor of fighting for a country that would deem her insane if they really saw who she was. For a father and family that hold no obligation to care for her. For people that did love her, only to be taken away and erased from her life. Now, she is going to go through this again to change everything. 

Griffith rubbed his chin as he looked at her. "So, you want me to be a messenger between you two?" Cinder nodded. Griffith let out a laugh, altering Clyde to place his hand on his sword. Griffith waved him off with a smile. "Don't be stiff; I'm quite interested in this deal. However, I can't guarantee my boss would like this change."

"Of course, but I know she would hear me out when she sees this letter," Cinder handed him a letter, which he greatly received with a smile. 

"Now watch and be amazed," Griffith boasted. He pulled a white chalk out of his pocket. Griffith proceeds to make a large circle on the table, and then he continues to make a smaller circle inside the big one. He connects them with harsh scratches of line, each uneven as the previous. Then, with a small dagger from his pocket, he poked his pinkie finger to use his blood to draw a shape in the form of a crow. Soon, he mumbled some weird tongue until the chalk circles and the blood crow glowed green. Instantly, the blood-shaped crow emerged from the table; it looked so real yet unsettling as the crow's feathers dripped with ink-like substance. Griffith tied the letter to its foot; the crow launched up to the ceiling, vanishing into dust. Cinder's face twisted in confusion, causing Griffth to hold up his hand. 

"When the crow knocks on your window at noon, the lady has answered your call." With that, Cinder and Clyde left the Underbellies with a slight prayer the gods were kind to them. 

And kind were they are when a light tapping on the window pulled Cinder from her writings and raised her sprites when a letter was attached at the crow's feet. A Lady Freak's letter.

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Months passed as Cinder and Beth exchanged letters with each other. Cinder had learned very early that Beth was a very unserious woman despite often dealing with the worst of the situation in her trades. Cinder will never forget a line from Beth's letter when she asked how she stays unaffected by her ventures; 'If I don't find and enjoy things in life despite dire situations, am I truly living?' That quote ran through her mind as she arrived at the war camp for new recruits of the war. Her nose scrunched up at the foul smell she oh so missed of a camp that hadn't washed in days and the smell of burning tar to weave off the flying nightmares. 

Including discussing with Beth, she had experienced a great surprise recently from the exchanges: another person was writing to her. At first, Cinder was pissed at the thought Beth might have made another person write her letters, but when she read it, her heart instantly warmed. It was a little girl, no older than ten, writing to her. She was a student of Beth, a girl like Beth and Cinder. Her name was Estelle, and she was fruitful in her writing. She asked the wildest questions that made Cinder laugh; she was witty with her responses and yet quick to be apologetic if she ever thought she might have offended Cinder with her questions. The way she writes, through simple vocabulary, had you hooked from top to bottom. After having to leave Clyde, Mary, and Olivia behind for the time being, she enjoyed having constant conversations with other beings in her life. 

Her thoughts were cut short when triumph fanfare penetrated her ears, and her eyes, like many others, turned to a parade of men on horses coming through. However, the eyes weren't on just the horses; no, it was on the valid prize of the parade. The boy that always steals every conversion mentions him, the heir of the Ironhearts, a legacy of being one of the wings of power of Heaven, Kris Ironheart. He stood proud on his horse with a blank face; his eyes were orange like the center of a fire. His hair was brownish-orange like the sky during the dust. Despite his face being soft, as you expect from a teenage boy, he was indeed a general of high value.

Cinder nearly calls out his name, but she stops herself when she remembers she is still a stranger to him in this life. She had a soft heart for him since they were sparring partners as kids during the academy, and, in her past life on the battlefield, Kris was the closest person to the war she had to turn to. However, she could never call him a friend as she was scared of what her father would do if she were a personal friend of one of the most critical people in Heaven. Still, she wants to repeat her closeness with Kris, even though they will never see each other again after the war. 

The fanfare was sung again as the masses metabolized to take down the camp. Cinder helped put down the tents and the burning tar lamps. Once everything was down, everyone grabbed their bags and matched on. Cinder held the lead of her horse, marching along with the masses of young soldiers. Every step forward felt like a sick cocktail of dread yet hope in her heart. Ahead of her was the future of both the known and unknown.