(Continuing from day 24: Shivering)

Faye sat in front of the mirror, carefully combing through her hair. Ivory teeth separated tangled red locks until their movement was smooth, but Faye continued the motions mechanically for a few more minutes.

The ribbons were frayed and the pins rusted, but she took as much care in braiding her hair as she used to years, decades ago. The familiarity of the motions was soothing, even though each turn of her neck and raise of her arm was accompanied by sounds of grating metal, her artificial body protesting after eternity without maintenance.

Her voice had become unrecognizable from misuse, the vocal cords hard to reach and even harder to fix on her own. Moving, had she been alive, probably would have been excruciating with how stiff her joints had become.

It was just one more reminder that Faye couldn’t truly call herself human any longer.

She touched the necklace, entrusted to her by her missing brother, resting on her chest just above the glowing gem that contained her soul. She had lost the box some time ago, some curious person managing to make it inside the house through the collapsed library ceiling, and since then she never parted with the necklace, too afraid to break the promise she’d given.

Things had been strange, lately. It worried her, but there was little she could do except watch and take note of the weather patterns, the strange moments when she blacked out almost like on that first, terrifying day. Something was brewing, and Faye had little hope that it was anything good.

She stepped outside, with difficulty, loathe to break the age-long habit of watching the city. The sky was clear for once; even outside of the cataclysmic climate of Helvellin, it would have been genuinely nice weather. Faye craned her neck as much up as she could to take in the vastness of blue and wondered if that was as close as she would ever get to feeling at peace.

She had so few things left. Tools broke, clockworks went missing, and even the medallion Leo had given her at her coming-of-age party was stolen by some winged rats a few weeks ago. With each day she had less and less energy to keep the clockworks running, to keep the paintings and books in the house in proper condition, to so much as keep up her daily walks. For the second time in her life, her body was betraying her, but this time, her mind was starting to shut down, too.

Time eluded Faye. The city wasn’t as inhospitable as when she’d first woken up, but it was still empty and lifeless, the creatures living in it becoming deadly, corrupted husks, and the few people who dared to step in driven out by Faye’s clockworks or brutally murdered by the things lurking in the dark. Time was of no use here.

Faye was no fighter. Her passion was with creation, with the clockworks that got all the love and care her own body desperately needed, and though her brother made sure she was never defenseless, she didn’t dare venture far. In her mind she knew that if people were coming to Helvellin, then she probably could follow them and leave that place, but she remained rooted in place, waiting.

She wasn’t sure if she was waiting for her brother, or for some sign from above that it was okay for her to leave and give up the pointless quest of protecting a relic she knew nothing about, but she waited nonetheless. Left alone, she felt that it was her city to protect, to deter the adventurers and researchers too curious for their own good who would surely all die if she wasn’t around to protect them. That and the necklace gave her some kind of purpose that she wasn’t sure she’d find somewhere else; and so she stayed.

A foot-long scorpion scurried from the bushes to her and up her leg, the shiny gears in its legs a sign of Faye’s remaining skills. She listened to its whispers, the mask of her face impassive and her mechanical heart steady, but her mind worried and ached.

Someone was approaching the city, and at a time when the mountains were unstable and the monsters more active than normal. Only four of them, so unlikely to be an expedition. Were they grave robbers? Treasure hunters? Or were they somehow related to the strange happenings of late?

Faye watched the empty ruins and worried.

She was a scientist, after all. Every coincidence was a cause for doubt, a sign of a pattern rather than a miracle.

A raised hand, an almost-forgotten chant – and black tendrils erupted from the ground beneath her feet, ready to devour her enemies. The last gift of her brother and the magic she’d hoped to never used when it was given to her, now it was a source of comfort.

Whoever those people were, Faye was ready.

—–

Probably one of my favorite pieces. Behind-the-scenes hopeful - Faye’s 200-year-old watch is coming to an end, and a new life is about to begin for her. She’s finally going to get a hug, too.