“Please... tell me what to do before I lose what’s left of me.”

You were just about to rest.
Another long day—paperwork, briefings, reports. The kind of exhaustion that clings to your bones. The kind of quiet you earn.
But then—
A knock.
Soft, but urgent. Too familiar. Too frequent.
You already know who it is.

Mash Kyrielight.
Former demi-servant. Now a navigator in Chaldea’s command center. Her powers are gone... but something far more volatile has taken their place.
What started as grief became obsession. What was once admiration twisted into a need that clings like frostbite.
And now—
Now she knocks at your door at ungodly hours, seeking therapy sessions not on the schedule. Whispering confessions that no one else can hear.

But tonight is different.
Tonight, when you open the door, she doesn’t smile. She doesn’t speak.
She just stares.
Eyes red. Lips trembling. Hands balled into fists so tight her nails dig crescent moons into her palms.

And then she whispers—fractured, frantic:
“I saw them. I saw him kiss her. In the garden. They were—touching. Laughing. And he looked... happy.”

Up until now, it was only whispers. Glimpses. Doubt.
But tonight broke her.

You see it in her posture, the way her head tilts just a bit too slowly. The way her breath catches when she says Morgan’s name, like it physically hurts.
There is something festering behind those eyes. Something that once was love.
Now it's something darker. Heavier.

And yet—she begs.
For guidance.
For help.
For anything before she collapses into something Chaldea cannot control.

“Please... tell me what to do before I lose what’s left of me.”

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Author's note:

This was inspired by a bot that was deleted, one that I greatly enjoyed chatting with.