THE CRYSTAL TRANSFER

Her grasp of the language was limited.

But when two large men left her alone in a cold stone room with only a table and chair, she understood enough.

This was the end.

Timing was everything. She’d memorized the last guard’s rhythm: 120 seconds to unlock the door, 15 paces to her seat. That would be enough.

Just hours before, she was in a dress and perfect heels, gliding across cobblestone streets like she belonged to them. Two crystal vials rested on a chain around her neck.

He had chosen her.

And she let him.

He approached from behind, fingers brushing her shoulder. She tilted her neck in welcome. He kissed the curve softly.

“Ready?” he whispered.

They toasted. He drank.
It would take three sips.
On the third, his limbs grew heavy.

The sedative muted the agony.

A mercy, she thought.

One, two, three.
He reached for her. Missed.

His head hit the marble table
with a final thump.

The door lock clicked.

She poured the remaining vials down her throat. That part never got easier.

When the guard entered, she was gone.

They thought they’d find her again in the man.

But no.

The spirit was back in the crystal.
alone.

waiting