Naomi's hands wouldn't stop shaking.
She tightened her fists until her nails bit painfully into her palms, desperate for control, but the tremors refused to fade. Each shudder seemed to echo the frantic beating of her heart, thumping mercilessly against her ribcage as though it might break free. She stumbled slightly, pausing to brace herself against the rough stone wall, her breathing uneven and shallow. The corridor before her was dimly lit, flickering lanterns casting grotesque shadows onto the cracked bricks beneath her feet. It was a lonely place, yet somehow, she found comfort in that isolation. It was familiar, painfully so.
Roe was dead, she reminded herself. He was gone. He couldn't hurt her anymore. But the truth of that realization did nothing to soothe the ache in her chest or calm the chaos swirling in her mind. Because Roe might have died by her hand, but his voice still whispered softly in the back of her head, a lingering ghost.
"What a beautiful thing we got here."
She closed her eyes tightly, shaking her head as if to dislodge him from her thoughts. He was dead, she had seen the life fade from his eyes herself. She had felt his blood warm and sticky on her trembling hands. She had made that choice. Roe hadn't forced her this time; there had been no commands, no collar, no sedative. It had been Naomi's decision.
She felt bile rise at the back of her throat at the thought. She had killed. Not indirectly, not through manipulation, this had been a choice all her own, and the thought terrified her. Naomi had known darkness and cruelty, had endured atrocities most could never imagine, but through it all, she had clung desperately to the thin hope that deep inside, she was still innocent, that none of Roe's corruption had truly penetrated her soul.
But now, as she stood shaking in the empty, shadowed hideout she had spent so much time caring for Eli in, she knew there was no going back. Just like the lockets, her innocence lay shattered, broken at her feet.
She pulled the hood of her tattered cloak over her head, obscuring her face, and forced herself to keep walking. Where she was going, she didn't know, just away from here, Roe's fortress, away from his corpse, away from what she'd done. The air grew colder as she emerged from the makeshift hideaway that she and Eli had called Home for the better half of a year.
The tunnels twisted around her like veins through the earth, but she walked them blindly, her feet dragging as she pushed forward. The quiet had never felt so oppressive. Every creak, every distant scuffle of claws on stone felt like it carried his voice, his laugh. As if some part of Roe had followed her. Burrowed into her.
Her mind spun, cycling through questions she couldn't answer. What was she supposed to do now? Where could she possibly go when everything felt so… tainted?
A thought surfaced, unbidden and desperate. The Bakery. Maybe Elizabeth knew something. Maybe they were okay. Maybe Eli had woken up and gone home and...
But even as her legs carried her through the darkness, her thoughts turned bitter. They're not okay. They haven't been okay since the explosion.
Minutes or hours later, she couldn't tell anymore, she reached the market district almost without realizing it. Lanterns hung limply along the quiet streets, barely illuminating shuttered storefronts. This place, she remembered faintly, had once been a symbol of life, of comfort and stability. It felt foreign now, like a place she might have imagined from someone else's happier memories.
She glanced down, suddenly aware of the uncomfortable weight strapped to her hip. Roe's pistol, stolen in the chaos, sat heavily against her leg, unfamiliar and menacing. Naomi had never fired a weapon before today, never held one voluntarily. Her hands had no discipline, no steadiness. All she had was instinct, dangerous, unpredictable instinct, tainted by trauma and fear.
She swallowed hard, fingers brushing the grip of the gun, and fought back tears. It felt wrong there, unnatural, and yet strangely comforting. She hated herself for the thought. She wasn't a killer, wasn't some vengeful soldier out for blood, she was just a girl, sixteen years old, battered by a world that had never shown her mercy.
The Paper Wolf, she thought bitterly. Teeth sharp enough to kill, yet fragile enough to be crumpled by the slightest touch.
Eventually, Naomi found herself at the end of a familiar street, heart suddenly tight in her chest. Edgar's bakery stood silent before her, the storefront dark, empty of warmth or welcome. It had been her last, fragile hope, the chance Eli might have found his way home, that he might have woken and returned to the family who loved him.
Her fingers trembled as she pressed open the door, her pulse drumming loudly in her ears. The inside of the bakery was still and shadowed, the comforting smell of baked goods long gone, replaced now by the dusty, stale scent of abandonment. Naomi's breath caught painfully when she saw the overturned furniture, half-packed bags spilled across the floor, dishes shattered in haste. Her gaze drifted downward, heart sinking even further at the sight of a small wooden toy lying abandoned amid the chaos.
It was Emma's.
Naomi knelt, picking up the tiny figure with shaking fingers. Her throat tightened as tears pricked her eyes, blurring her vision until the toy became nothing more than a faded shape. She remembered Emma's innocent smile, Elizabeth's fierce kindness, Edgar's quiet strength. Eli's warmth.
Gone now.
"Edgar…" she whispered, voice cracking as despair wrapped icy fingers around her heart. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…"
She sank to the ground, clutching the little toy tightly to her chest. Her shoulders shook as the fragile walls she'd built finally collapsed. Everything Roe had made her do, all the pain she'd endured, every twisted manipulation, the lifeless gaze of Edgar after Roe had killed him, all of it crashed down on her at once, crushing her beneath its weight. She was alone now, utterly and completely alone. The anchor she had clung to, the hope that Eli had survived and returned home, was shattered beyond repair.
Naomi wept openly, her quiet sobs echoing through the empty bakery, filling the air with a grief she'd held back too long. She had killed Roe, but it hadn't healed her; it hadn't made her whole. Instead, it left her hollow and fragile, just as Roe always said she was.
"You're nothing without me," the phantom of his voice whispered cruelly in her mind, taunting her even now. "You'll always be mine."
"No," she whispered fiercely, clutching the toy tighter. "I'm not yours. Not anymore."
But the silence that followed was deafening, providing no comfort or guidance. It was just her and her guilt, her grief and her unbearable uncertainty.
Naomi drew her knees tightly to her chest, the tears slowing to quiet gasps. She knew she couldn't stay here, not with the emptiness, not surrounded by what had once been Eli's home, now nothing more than a reminder of everything she'd lost.
But where else was there to go? Who else could she turn to?
She sat alone in the quiet darkness of the bakery, the Paper Wolf curled and trembling beneath the weight of her choices, teeth sharp enough to kill, but heart fragile enough to be broken with every breath she took.
Naomi's feet carried her numbly through the winding streets of Rat City, each step an agonizing weight pulling her deeper into herself. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, drowning out the silence as she passed through unseen, untouched. Her mind was a whirlpool of fragmented thoughts, grief, guilt, and confusion threatening to consume her entirely.
She had nowhere else to go. The palace was the only place she could remember that had felt safe, however briefly, during her fractured past. She moved almost mechanically, wrapped tightly in her cloak, gaze cast downward to avoid recognition as much as possible. She felt like a shadow, passing unseen through the city she had helped break.
Finally reaching the palace, Naomi hesitated at the gates. The guards stared, hesitant but eventually allowing her passage without a word, sensing her desperation. She moved silently into the quiet, familiar halls, each step echoing hollowly against the polished stone.
She had barely reached the main corridor leading toward the guest chambers when a voice, tight with barely contained emotion, called out sharply from behind her.
"Naomi?" Elizabeth's voice came out breathless, eyes darting around as though expecting some unseen threat. She quickly moved forward, reaching out hesitantly. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"
Naomi flinched slightly at Elizabeth's sudden approach, hugging herself instinctively as if to shield her body from invisible blows. "I'm… I'm fine," she murmured quietly, avoiding Elizabeth's concerned eyes. "I managed to escape Roe. He's… he's gone now."
Elizabeth paused, her expression hardening at Roe's name. Her voice tightened, a sudden, bitter edge entering her tone. "Roe…? His men, they took Edgar. Naomi, please, did you see him? Did you see Edgar?"
Naomi felt a rush of dread, heart hammering painfully in her chest. Elizabeth's eyes were wide, desperate, pleading for answers that Naomi knew would break her. Naomi's throat tightened, words tangling on her tongue, uncertainty blooming into panic.
"I—I saw him, briefly," Naomi said softly, choosing each word carefully, her voice barely above a whisper. "He… he was taken from where I was. But after that, I don't know what happened to him."
Elizabeth's shoulders sank, but hope flickered weakly behind her grief. She drew in a trembling breath, nodding slowly. "Then he's still out there," she whispered, more to herself than Naomi. Her gaze softened, quiet for a long moment as though gathering her strength.
Naomi hesitated, the silence stretching thin, fragile between them. "Elizabeth, I'm so sorry," she finally murmured, voice strained. "All of this, what happened to Eli, to your family, I should've done something sooner. I should've remembered sooner."
Elizabeth turned sharply at Naomi's words, eyes suddenly blazing again, hurt reignited into anger. "Remembered?" Her voice shook with sudden accusation. "You… you knew Eli was alive?"
Naomi recoiled slightly, eyes wide with panic. "I… I didn't… my memory, it was damaged in the explosion. I didn't remember who he was, or—"
"You couldn't what?" Elizabeth stepped closer, voice breaking. "Couldn't tell me that my boy… my son… was still breathing? Couldn't spare me months of grief?"
"Please," Naomi whispered, voice trembling with desperation. "I swear, I didn't remember anything at first. I lost everything in that explosion. I didn't even know myself, let alone him."
Elizabeth's gaze was sharp, hurt bleeding openly into her expression. "But you were there, Naomi. You were there when it happened. You must have seen something, known something."
"There was a man," Naomi said weakly, her voice distant as memory fragments forced their way painfully into clarity. "He was at the center of the explosion, holding something… something that glowed. It was him. He caused all of this. I remember him now."
Elizabeth went completely still, her eyes widening slightly in recognition and horror. She drew in a sharp breath, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Nikodemus."
Naomi looked at her, startled "Who?" Elizabeth stared back, pain and regret seeping into her expression before she could stop it. She closed her eyes briefly, shaking her head softly before forcing herself to meet Naomi's confused, terrified gaze once more. Her voice trembled as she spoke again, knowing she was crossing a line that could not be uncrossed. "Nikodemus… your father."
The words echoed in Naomi's ears, reverberating painfully through her chest. Her carefully constructed barriers, the defenses she'd built to shield herself, collapsed in an instant, shattering under the weight of Elizabeth's revelation. Naomi's scars, raw and vivid, both physical and emotional, were suddenly laid bare. Elizabeth's eyes widened in horror as she took in the true depths of Naomi's suffering, realizing in an instant just how deeply she had wounded her with her careless revelation.
"Oh, Naomi, I didn't mean, I shouldn't have."
But Naomi didn't stay to hear more. The walls of the grand hall pressed in on her, suffocating, unbearable. She turned on trembling legs, fleeing into the corridor, desperate to escape the unbearable truth and the overwhelming pity in Elizabeth's eyes.
She ran until her legs gave out beneath her, finding herself in the vast emptiness of the throne room. Her chest heaved as she collapsed onto the polished floor, shoulders shaking uncontrollably as sobs finally tore free. She didn't hear the soft footsteps approach, nor see the Rat King until he knelt beside her, placing a comforting paw gently on her shoulder.
"Naomi," he murmured gently, his voice calm yet laced with profound sorrow. "It's alright. You're safe now."
She looked up at him, eyes swimming with tears. "Is it true? Nikodemus… is he my father? Did you know?"
The Rat King exhaled slowly, eyes gentle but deeply weary. "Yes," he admitted quietly. "I knew. Many of us did. But the decision was made to keep the truth quiet, not to protect him, but to protect you. You are just a child, innocent in all of this. We didn't want the burden of his sins to fall to you."
Naomi's voice trembled, tears streaming freely now. "But they did. They all did."
He squeezed her shoulder gently, his voice firm but compassionate. "You are not your father, Naomi. You never were."
She swallowed painfully, closing her eyes briefly to steady herself. "I don't know what to do," she whispered, her voice small, broken. "I've done terrible things. Roe… others… I don't even know who I am anymore."
The Rat King gently guided her to stand, his eyes solemn but reassuring. "You're Naomi. Stronger than you realize, braver than you could ever give yourself credit for. And there are those who still care deeply for you."
Naomi hesitated, uncertain. "Who?"
The Rat King gestured towards the pistol on Naomi's hip, accepting it from her gently and handing it to a nearby servant to be examined before he reached back to Naomi offering his paw.
He smiled faintly, gently guiding her from the throne room. "Come with me."
Naomi followed silently as he led her through the palace halls toward the infirmary. The silence stretched between them, comforting rather than strained. When they finally reached the doorway, the Rat King stepped aside, nodding for Naomi to go in. Then he made his way back down the hall he had led Naomi through.
Her heart thumped anxiously as she stepped into the infirmary, glancing one last time at the Rat King before she entered. The room was quiet, softened by the gentle glow of lanterns. There, by Eli's bedside, sat Emma, quietly holding her brother's hand. The young rat looked up, eyes widening as recognition sparked.
"Naomi?" Emma whispered, eyes welling with tears. Without hesitation, she rushed forward, wrapping Naomi in a fierce, heartfelt embrace. Naomi stiffened only briefly before melting into the hug, gripping the young girl tightly, sobbing quietly into her shoulder.
"I'm sorry," Naomi choked out, voice thick with guilt and grief. "I'm so sorry, Emma. I should have brought Eli home sooner. I should have done more."
Emma held Naomi even tighter, her voice muffled but firm. "You both came back, that's what matters."
Naomi's breath steadied slowly as she held Emma close, the young girl's forgiveness filling a void deep within her aching heart.
She had so many questions, so many wounds still raw and open. But here, in the quiet warmth of the infirmary, she felt something she hadn't allowed herself to feel in far too long.
Hope.
Elizabeth stood quietly near the doorway of the infirmary, her heart heavy with shame and sorrow. She watched Naomi embracing Emma, saw the trembling in Naomi's shoulders, the way the girl clung to Emma as though she might disappear if she let go. The raw vulnerability of the scene overwhelmed her. Elizabeth felt the sharp sting of regret as she hesitated at the threshold, unsure how to bridge the painful divide she had created.
"Naomi," Elizabeth began gently, stepping further into the room. Her voice trembled, barely audible. "I shouldn't have said those things. I had no right."
Naomi turned slowly, tears still shimmering in her eyes. She met Elizabeth's gaze, her expression guarded, uncertain. Elizabeth moved closer, careful to keep her movements gentle, non-threatening.
"I know it wasn't your fault," Elizabeth continued softly, her voice filled with genuine remorse. "I shouldn't have lashed out at you, shouldn't have blamed you."
Naomi shook her head slowly, her eyes distant, voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe you should."
Elizabeth paused, taken aback by the quiet resolve in Naomi's voice. The girl seemed to wrestle with something deep within herself, her breathing uneven as the internal struggle played clearly across her face.
Then, slowly, with a steadying breath, Naomi made a choice. Her eyes met Elizabeth's, filled not with accusation, but with profound vulnerability and sadness.
"You should know what really happened," Naomi said quietly, her voice shaking. "The truth."
Before Elizabeth could respond, Naomi closed her eyes, releasing the grip she maintained so tightly over her power. It was a deliberate, painful decision, one that she'd never willingly done for anyone.
As her mental barriers fell away, Elizabeth's vision blurred, the sight of Naomi changing before her very eyes. Deep, jagged scars crisscrossed Naomi's pale skin, etched brutally across her face, neck, and down her arms, all hidden before by Naomi's careful, unconscious concealment. The marks told a story that no words could, of pain, suffering, and an unimaginable struggle to survive.
Emma let out a low "Woah, how did you do that."
Elizabeth gasped softly, her paws flying to cover her mouth, horror and grief mixing sharply in her expression.
Naomi's eyes opened again, raw with tears. "Eli and I survived the explosion, Elizabeth. Somehow, I don't, I don't know how, but we did and when I woke up, Eli was beside me. He was breathing, but he wouldn't wake up."
She exhaled sharply, shivering, but continued despite the trembling of her voice. "I tried to move him, to get us somewhere safe, but I barely had the strength to stand on my own. My head felt… wrong. It was like all my memories had been torn out of me."
Elizabeth moved forward, reaching hesitantly to gently take Naomi's hand, feeling the shaking of her fingers, the scars beneath her touch a stark reminder of all the girl had endured.
"I found a place for us to hide. The safest place I could manage," Naomi continued. "I waited, hoping my memories would return, or Eli would wake up, that something would change. But days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and still, Eli never woke. I kept him alive, stockpiling medicine and food, but I didn't remember who he was, or why he mattered to me so much, just that he did."
Elizabeth squeezed Naomi's hand softly, her eyes swimming with fresh tears, voice choked with emotion. "Naomi…"
Naomi looked away briefly, her breath hitching. "When I finally remembered, when I finally understood, it was too late. Roe had found me, and he took everything."
Elizabeth's voice trembled. "Naomi, I'm so sorry,"
Naomi interrupted gently, shaking her head. "There's more… someone else was there in the Quarter. I think it was him, the man you mentioned… Nikodemus."
Elizabeth flinched visibly at the name but held Naomi's gaze this time. "Your father," she murmured, voice heavy with regret.
Naomi looked away briefly, taking a steadying breath. "I don't know why he was there or what he did, but he caused the explosion. Somehow Eli and I survived when so many others didn't. I don't know why, and it scares me."
Elizabeth was quiet for a long moment, absorbing Naomi's words, feeling the weight of each revelation settle heavily upon her. Finally, she spoke, her voice gentle but firm. "You are not responsible for his actions, Naomi. You never were."
Naomi nodded slowly, wiping tears from her eyes, finally allowing herself to believe that. "Thank you."
A quiet moment of silence passed between them, broken only by Emma's gentle sniffles. Elizabeth drew Naomi into a cautious, heartfelt embrace, holding her gently as though she were something precious that might shatter. "I'm sorry for what you've endured. But you're not alone now, Naomi. Never again."
Naomi took a shaky breath, tears slipping down her face. The pain was still there, the uncertainty, the guilt but for the first time, there was something more. Hope. Acceptance.
And she wasn't alone.
In that quiet infirmary, beneath the glow of gentle lanterns, they began the fragile, tentative journey towards forgiveness and healing, together.