Page 4 of Knot Your Fated M.U.S.E.

Even as darkness takes me again.

Even as shadows sing their lullabies.

Even as I forget everything else.

I am Nyx.

I am 495.

I am their greatest mistake.

And someday...

They'll pay.

1

EXTRACT OR TERMINATE

~ATLAS~

The braille beneath my fingertips tells a story of horror.

Patient files. Mission briefs. Target locations.

All leading to Ravenscroft Asylum.

My fingers dance across the raised dots, absorbing every detail. Every potential threat. Every possible victim. The paper is thick, expensive – Council grade. They spare no expense when sending us to do their dirty work.

Twenty-three patients.

Fifteen staff members.

Eight armed guards.

And one particular subject of interest: Patient 495.

The air shifts – a subtle change in pressure that speaks volumes. Heavy footsteps, slightly dragging on the left. Each inhale a wet rattle, followed by a wheezing exhale that carries the stale scent of cigarettes and that ridiculously expensive cologne he thinks masks it. Spiced wood and tobacco, trying desperately to cover the death he's slowly breathing into his lungs.

Dante.

"You're early," I say, not lifting my head from the documents. "Mission brief isn't for another hour."

He chuckles, the sound rough and gravelly.

"Can't slip anything past you, can I?"

A wet cough follows, one he tries to muffle behind his fist.

"Thought I'd get a head start. What are we looking at?"

The chair across from me creaks as he drops into it. He always sits the same way – sprawled out, taking up too much space. Asserting dominance even when he doesn't need to.

Classic Dante.

"Extraction mission," I reply, trailing my fingers over the next page. "Ravenscroft Asylum. Council wants us to retrieve a specific target." I pause, letting the weight of the next words settle. "They're calling her a M.U.S.E."

The shift in his posture is immediate.

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