Laz awoke slowly, their tired eyes blurred. They barely remembered getting back to their dorm the night before, and apparently hadn’t even bothered getting under the covers of their bed before falling asleep, or changing clothes. The scent of blood still lingered.

They had no idea how long they had been asleep; their dorm, like all the others, was only lit by a small, artificial window near the ceiling. Their surroundings were simple, small, and undecorated; stone walls and floor, and dark grey sheets on their stiff bed. The only thing differentiating it from the other agent’s dorms was their instrument—a small, wooden lyre resting on their nightstand.

They stared at it longingly. Felix had let them borrow the tiny harp a few months ago, eager to teach them how to play. Laz didn’t understand why she had been so driven to teach them music. It wasn’t as though they had a talent for it, and the Vastra certainly wasn’t going to make the two of them switch jobs. Learning music was useless to them. A waste of time and energy.

Yet, as they shook off their sleep, they picked up the small harp from its resting place and plucked out a few notes. They hadn’t quite memorized what sound each of the strings made, but they could almost play the song Felix had taught them without making any mistakes. Feeling out the rhythm and plucking clumsily at the strings, they thought of how beautiful the song had sounded when Felix played it, the way she had smiled when Laz copied her correctly. The way her hair had shimmered in the sunlight as they sat on the forested hillside, playing together—

Stop it.

They rested the instrument on their chest and sighed. Felix would be disappointed if she found out they hadn’t practiced much since their last lesson. But maybe Laz could use that as an excuse to have her show them how to play again. She had sat so close the last time…

Stop. Intimacy is against the Vastra’s Commands. You'd be no better than Oren.

A sickening chill ran through Laz's entire body, and they quickly placed the little harp back in its spot before sitting back on the bed to catch their breath.

I’m not like Oren, they thought. I’m not a traitor. I am her knife, an extension of her will. I will not betray her…

They breathed in shakily, thinking of the Vastra’s smile, the smell of iron and perfume, and shivered.

I will not betray her.

It was late afternoon by the time Laz felt awake enough to leave their room. The underground sanctum had rooms for about 20 residents, nearly all of them full but only a small fraction occupied at any given point. Most of the Vastra’s agents were regularly out on assignments; Laz, surely, would be sent on another before too long.

They stopped for a quick breakfast in the west hall- dried meat and bread and a vegetable soup that hadn't changed flavor the entire time Laz had lived there. The taste didn't matter; food's only purpose was to keep the body alive. Having to eat every few hours was an annoying flaw in their mortal body they had long wished they could be rid of.

Making their way above ground, Laz climbed the stairs and stepped outside, the midday sun nearly blinding them as their eyes adjusted to natural light. They left the guest house grounds and wandered into the woods, trudging up the overgrown trail until eventually finding the sparring grounds: a fenced off dirt clearing stocked with a half dozen training dummies, their straw innards leaking out through dozens of puncture wounds.

They leaned against the roughshod fence, their hands gripping the splintery wood, staring out at the place where they had learned to kill. Oren had taught them how to hide, how to fight, how to imitate anyone perfectly and avoid being caught. He had taught them everything. Yet now he was locked in the Vastra’s torture chamber, facing punishment for his betrayal. Laz wished that someone else was there for them to spar with, to try and work out some of the anxious energy that had built up in their limbs, but it wouldn’t be the same as trading blows with their mentor.

Laz wondered what exactly it was they were feeling. It may have been anger, but it didn’t feel as hot as anger usually did. This was more subdued, something deeper. They looked out over the sun-dappled patch of ground and remembered how proud they had felt the first time they had bested Oren in a contest of strength. Then a dawning sadness that they would never do so again.

Was it sadness? Maybe, but that didn’t seem right. What did Laz have to be sad about? Oren? He was a traitor. He had made his decisions, and now he was being punished for them. The woman they had killed last night had tempted Oren to his fate, said or done something to him to get him to abandon everything he had trained for, everything the Vastra had worked for. Oren reaped what he sowed. The corpse of his forbidden lover was a byproduct of his betrayal, and soon he’d join her in hell. Neither of them deserved to be mourned.

So why did Laz still feel a tug in their chest?

They sat and stared at the training grounds for a few moments longer before the sound of someone approaching caught their attention. Whoever it was was awful at sneaking—or perhaps just didn’t care about being heard. Laz turned, and was greeted by a flash of pink.

“How did I know you’d be here?” Felix said, smiling. She wore her usual appearance now—Cynderan, with rosy pink skin and swooping horns painted a metallic gold. Long silver hair cascaded down her back in waves, woven with small braids and flowers she'd likely picked that morning. She had swapped out her layered dancing skirt for a simpler one, still pink but with a slimmer silhouette. She held it up to keep it from snagging on the underbrush as she walked toward the training ground.

Her Aura stood out brightly in the dense woods—a warm embrace of vibrant pink, like sunlight shining through rose petals, as beautiful and dazzling as she was. Laz almost pitied the fools who couldn’t see it for themselves, yet they coveted the secrecy; it felt like something precious about Felix that only a select, special few could see. They were grateful to be one of them.

“Made it back okay?” Laz asked, leaning back casually on the fence. They hoped it looked casual, anyway.

“Yep! Nothing exciting to report.” She joined Laz by the fence, leaning her back against it and stretching. Laz caught a whiff of her perfume- sweet and flowery.

“How was the rest of your show? I wish I had stuck around for the end, but—“

“Oh, you didn’t miss much, trust me." She waved her hand dismissively. "The best part was toward the beginning- lots of the little neighborhood kids came out to watch, it was darling. You saw them, right?"

"A bit." Laz avoided mentioning that their gaze had mostly been pulled somewhere else.

"Absolutely precious, right? And then a few sloppy folks started acting rowdy toward the end and it completely ruined the energy. I almost threw my lute at them."

"You did not."

"You're right, I didn't. But I thought about it."

She spared a cheeky, sideways glance at Laz, who couldn't help but smile. Hers was infectious.

"You caught some of the show though, right?" she asked. "I saw you slinking around. And your little scuffle with the guard afterward.”

She giggled, a delicate sound like wind chimes. Red painted Laz’s cheeks.

“Someone saw me sneaking out. We don’t have to rehash it."

“Aww, but it’s so fun to watch the guards get all confused! Rushing around like little ants, looking for someone who doesn’t exist.” She laughed again, hand delicately covering her mouth. “Besides, how long has it been since you’ve gotten seen on a job? You’re usually so good about not being caught.”

“And I’m going to try and keep it that way. I’m on thin ice with the Vastra anyway.”

“Why? Because of last night? Or... because of Oren?”

Laz stared at the ground. "...Little bit of both."

“Laz, what he did doesn’t have anything to do with you. You haven’t done anything wrong!"

"I was seen. And I'm lucky those town guards were so useless, or I could've ended up with another of these," they said, pointing to the scar above their temple.

Felix frowned. "Well... maybe. But it wasn't like you could've just started killing those guards in the street."

"No. But I shouldn't have been seen in the first place. Oren never would've-"

"Oren got what was coming to him!” she huffed. ”He's a traitor, Laz. I mean, what was he thinking?! Telling some outsider everything?! What if that woman had told people about the Vastra? About her powers, and about all of us? They’d lock her away for having forbidden magic and use the rest of us as research subjects, or just kill us off. There’s no place for us anywhere else.”

Laz stayed silent. She was right, of course. Under the Vastra’s care, they were safe. They had food, shelter, a place to rest their heads amongst others of their kind. The outside world was so much crueler, and Mirages were magnets for misfortune. How many had been killed out of fear before the Vastra had rescued them from fate’s design?

Laz had been one of the lucky ones. After discovering their ability to shapeshift, their family had assumed they were a monster that had killed and replaced their actual child. They managed to escape, and fled to a nearby city where Oren had found them and brought to the sanctum. The Vastra had taken them in, raised them, given them a home and a place to belong. All of the Vastra’s agents had similar stories, even Felix. She had opened up about it, once, but she had so much hurt in her eyes when she talked about it that Laz never asked again.

“My point is that you shouldn’t feel bad for him,” Felix said. “He dug his own grave, the traitor—and I’m certain the Vastra won’t hold his actions against you. You’re one of her best assassins—she adores you, I know it.”

“She... I hope you’re right" Laz mumbled. "I just… It still bothers me.”

“What does?”

“The fact he was able to betray her in the first place.”

A breeze blew through, rustling the trees overhead.

“...Do you think that Laurel woman you killed last night had something to do with it?” Felix asked. “Maybe she was able to… I don’t know, break him free of her Commands somehow. If she was capable of that, then that would explain—“

“If that was the case, I don’t think the Vastra would have wanted her dead. At least, not right away. She’d have wanted to figure out how she did it first.”

Laz stared down at the ground, deep in thought. Oren shouldn’t have been able to go against the Vastra’s Commands. None of them should. It was supposed to be impossible. Her wishes were law amongst her agents, and they must always uphold her will. It was how she kept them safe.

Another breeze blew through, and Laz gazed at Felix, her silver hair tossing in the wind. They longed to reach out and touch those silvery waves, or hold her hand, but this, too, went against the Vastra's Commands. Intimacy between agents was strictly forbidden, and any touch that wasn’t for pure utility was impossible to initiate. No matter how badly Laz may have wanted to reach out to Felix, their body simply wouldn’t let them.

As was the Vastra’s will.

Felix pondered for a moment longer, then looked up with her usual, carefree smile. “Well, if it’s something we need to be worried about, the Vastra would have told us to worry, wouldn’t she?”

“I… suppose so.”

“I mean, it makes sense! Besides, I’m sure she’ll be able to get whatever information she needs out of Oren, and take measures to make sure it doesn’t happen again. I don’t think any of us have anything to worry about. The Vastra knows what she’s doing.”

There it was again; her infectious smile. Laz smiled back, yet the tug in their chest kept pulling, unabated. They did their best to ignore it.

“You’re right. It‘s frustrating, though—I don’t know who I’ll spar with now,” Laz mumbled, kicking at a stone.

"Well, I'd volunteer, but I'm not exactly dressed for it," she laughed. Though Felix's primary talent was distraction and diversion, she'd had the same assassin training as all the other agents. Both beautiful and deadly. “But if you're really itching for a match, I’m sure one of the others could be talked into it.”

“I’ve tried. They’re all terrified of me. They know they wouldn’t last two seconds.”

“Well, then maybe they should see that as an opportunity to improve themselves. Their skills will get rusty if they don’t practice. And speaking of—“ she smiled coyly, “How’s lyre practice going?”

Laz sighed. They had walked right into that one. “It… isn’t. Sorry.”

“Laaaaz!” Felix whined, bouncing on her heels. “You said you’d practice so we could play together!”

“I know, I just… haven’t had a lot of time.” It wasn’t a lie; ever since the Vastra had sent Oren out on his infiltration mission months ago, Laz had been on double duty covering for him. And now, with him out of commission, they didn’t anticipate their workload easing up anytime soon. Someone as powerful as the Vastra had lots of enemies.

“Well, if you aren’t going to spar, then let’s practice now!”

“The lyre you lent me is back in my dorm—“

“We can go get it! It’ll take 5 minutes!”

“Well—" Laz protested, "I want to practice alone more first. I haven’t mastered the song you taught me last time, and I want to get better before we play together.”

“But you’ll get better by practicing! Come on, don’t be such a spoilsport!” She leaned forward and looked Laz in the eyes, tearful and pleading. “Please?”

Laz broke easily. It was hard not to when she begged.

“…Fine, fine. Give me 5 minutes.”

Felix clapped cheerfully, giggling, and Laz’s heart fluttered. They didn’t know what they had done to deserve her attention, but they prayed to the long-dead gods she kept giving it. If the Vastra allowed it, they would hug Felix tightly and never let go. Instead, Laz simply smiled and started down the hill.

A sound from up ahead stopped them. The figure coming up the trail was one they recognized—Rel, the guard from the night before. His mossy green aura swirled as he approached.

“Agent Laz, the Vastra has requested your presence. She has another assignment for you.”

“What? So soon?” Felix asked.

Rel nodded. “It's urgent. You're to be briefed on your mission and leave as soon as possible.”

Laz sighed. Their workload was nothing if not predictable. They turned to look at Felix with an apologetic smile. "Sorry. Next time?"

“Well, fine,” she pouted, “but when you get back, we’re practicing together! No excuses this time! Promise?”

“I promise,” Laz said, cursing their luck. Yet, in a way, they saw it as a chance to prove themself. Their usefulness had dulled due to their injury, and their job the night before had nearly been a disaster. However, being sent on another mission so soon could be the Vastra giving Laz the opportunity to prove themself. Steeling their nerve, they made their way back to the sanctum.

They wouldn’t let her down.