Lucy Holloway had checked her phone seventeen times in the last hour.
She knew because she'd started counting.
Seventeen times, hoping for a message.
Seventeen times finding nothing.
The last message she'd sent to her sister was still sitting there, undelivered.
I love you. Please be okay.
Lucy stared at it for another few seconds before turning off the screen.
Outside the car, the motorway stretched beneath a dull grey sky. Traffic moved steadily in both directions. Lorries rumbled past, families travelled somewhere for the weekend, and a man in the next lane was eating a sandwich while driving.
The world hadn't stopped.
That was perhaps the strangest part.
People were still going to work. Children were still attending school. Somewhere, someone was probably complaining about the price of coffee.
And Evelyn Holloway had become the most wanted woman on Earth.
Not because she'd committed a crime.
Not because she'd hurt anyone.
Because a blue window had appeared in front of everyone, promising a fortune to whoever killed her.
Lucy looked down at her phone again.
Nothing.
"Lucy."
Her mother was watching her from the passenger seat.
"What?"
"You're going to drain your battery."
"It's at eighty-three percent."
"You might need it later."
"I know, Mum."
Emma Holloway turned back toward the road.
Lucy immediately regretted her tone.
Her mother had barely slept. Dark circles marked her eyes, and she was holding her handbag against her chest as though someone might try to take it from her.
Her father wasn't doing much better.
Mark Holloway sat behind the wheel, his shoulders held stiffly. A bruise covered part of his jaw, and every time the car passed over an uneven stretch of road, he winced.
The hospital had diagnosed two bruised ribs.
No fractures.
The doctor had called him lucky.
Lucy had wanted to ask what, exactly, was supposed to be lucky about any of this.
Beside her, Oliver sat with his headphones covering his ears.
He wasn't listening to anything.
Lucy knew because the cable wasn't connected to his phone.
Her thirteen-year-old brother had spent most of the journey watching the vehicles behind them. Whenever a car stayed in their lane for too long, his shoulders tightened.
Lucy reached across and touched his arm.
Oliver flinched.
"Sorry," she whispered.
He pulled one headphone aside.
"What?"
"Nothing."
He studied her for a moment before replacing it.
Lucy looked out of the window.
She could still hear Evelyn's voice.
I love you, okay?
It had sounded like goodbye.
Lucy closed her eyes.
She wished she could forget that part.
***
The first thing Lucy remembered about the invasion was how ordinary the afternoon had been.
She'd been in the kitchen, trying to make tea.
Her mother had been on the phone with someone from the police, growing increasingly frustrated as she explained for what felt like the hundredth time that the World Quest was targeting her daughter.
Her father had been pacing the living room.
Oliver was upstairs.
Everyone had been frightened, of course. The quest had appeared hours earlier, and strangers had already started calling the house.
But the front door was locked.
They were home.
For a little while, Lucy had still believed those things meant something.
Then someone knocked.
Her father went to answer.
Lucy heard voices.
A man asking for Evelyn.
Her father demanding to know who he was.
Another voice.
Then the door opened wider, and four strangers entered the hallway.
One wore dark armour beneath a long coat. Another carried a sword across his back. A woman with cropped hair had a compact magical staff at her hip.
Adventurers.
Lucy recognized the equipment immediately.
Until that day, the sight would have reassured her.
Adventurers fought monsters. They cleared dungeons. They helped when a breach threatened a town.
They were supposed to protect people.
"Is Evelyn Holloway here?" the man in front asked.
Her father stood in the hallway.
"No. And I want to know who you are."
"Where is she?"
"I just told you she isn't here."
"That wasn't my question."
The man tried to walk past him.
Mark caught his arm.
"Excuse me. This is my house."
The adventurer twisted free.
Another stepped forward and shoved Mark hard enough to send him crashing against the doorframe.
The sound made Lucy jump.
Her father dropped to one knee.
"Dad!"
She rushed out of the kitchen.
Emma was already there.
"What are you doing?"
The adventurer barely looked at her.
"Stay out of the way."
"He's done nothing!"
"Then he can continue doing nothing."
Lucy stared at him.
Her father was on the floor, struggling to breathe.
And the man looked bored.
Not angry.
Not even particularly interested.
Bored.
Lucy had never wanted to hit someone so badly.
She moved toward her father, but the woman with the staff stepped into her path.
"Where's your sister?"
Lucy stopped.
"What?"
"Evelyn. Where is she?"
"I don't know."
The woman studied her.
"Try again."
"I said I don't know!"
A faint translucent glow appeared before the woman's eyes.
Some kind of System skill.
Lucy couldn't tell which one.
The woman frowned.
"She's telling the truth."
For half a second, Lucy felt relieved.
Then the woman added, "Doesn't mean she knows nothing useful."
The search began.
They opened cupboards, pulled out drawers, and went through the kitchen. One of the men headed upstairs without asking permission.
Emma followed him, demanding that he stop.
Nobody listened.
Lucy helped her father onto the sofa.
He was breathing carefully, one hand pressed against his ribs.
"Don't," he whispered when she started toward the stairs.
"They can't just—"
"Lucy. Don't."
He looked frightened.
Her father.
The man who'd taught her to ride a bicycle, who complained whenever Evelyn borrowed his tools and never returned them, who insisted on checking the tyres before every family trip.
Lucy had never seen him look like that.
Then something crashed upstairs.
Her mother shouted.
Lucy went anyway.
***
Evelyn's bedroom door stood open.
One of the adventurers was searching her desk. Books lay scattered across the floor, drawers had been emptied, and a framed photograph of the three siblings was lying face down beside the bed.
The glass had cracked.
"What are you doing?" Lucy demanded.
The man didn't look at her.
"Searching."
"For what?"
"Information."
"About what?"
He finally turned.
"Your sister."
"She's a university student."
"I know."
"She's never hurt anyone."
"That's not relevant."
"How is that not relevant?"
The man sighed.
It was the sigh that nearly made Lucy lose control.
As though she were inconveniencing him.
As though her sister being hunted for murder was an administrative problem he was tired of explaining.
"Look, we're not here to hurt your family."
Lucy looked at the broken photograph.
Then toward the stairs, where her father was struggling to breathe.
"Really?"
The man followed her gaze.
For a moment, he seemed almost embarrassed.
Then he shrugged.
"Your father interfered."
"He lives here."
"Then he should understand how serious this is."
He picked up a notebook from Evelyn's desk.
Lucy recognized it immediately. Evelyn's handwriting covered the pages, interspersed with psychology notes and little diagrams in the margins.
"Does she have friends outside university?"
Lucy didn't answer.
"Anyone she might stay with?"
Silence.
"Boyfriend?"
"No."
The answer escaped before she could stop it.
The man looked up.
"Good. That's something."
Lucy wanted to take it back.
He set the notebook aside and picked up the photograph.
Evelyn stood between Lucy and Oliver, smiling at the camera.
It had been taken on Oliver's birthday.
Evelyn had complained about the lighting. Oliver had insisted on making a ridiculous face, and Lucy remembered laughing so hard that they'd needed three attempts to get a decent picture.
The adventurer examined it.
"Recent?"
"Give me that."
"Is it recent?"
Lucy stepped forward.
He raised one hand.
A faint glow gathered around his fingers.
She stopped.
The man looked at her for another moment, then slipped the photograph into his coat.
"Evidence."
"That's ours."
He walked past her.
Lucy stood in the middle of Evelyn's ruined bedroom.
For several seconds, she couldn't move.
Then she heard Oliver crying downstairs.
***
The adventurers didn't leave immediately.
That was another thing Lucy remembered.
She'd assumed that once they finished searching the house, they'd go.
Instead, more people arrived.
Some wore guild insignia. Others didn't. A few remained outside, talking among themselves while watching the street.
At one point, Lucy counted eleven strangers in and around their property.
Eleven.
In a house that normally felt crowded when Evelyn came home from university.
Her mother argued with them until her voice became hoarse.
Her father tried to stand again.
Lucy made him sit down.
Oliver retreated to the living room and stayed close to him.
And through all of it, Lucy kept checking her phone.
She'd been messaging Evelyn since the quest appeared.
Most of the messages remained unanswered.
Then, finally, the screen lit up.
Evie: I'm okay
Lucy nearly dropped the phone.
Her fingers flew across the keyboard.
Lucy: OH MY GOD
Lucy: WHERE ARE YOU
The reply came a little later.
Evie: Somewhere safe
Lucy wanted to believe her.
She wanted to believe those two words more than anything.
Lucy: can you call
She waited.
Evie: Can't right now
Evie: What's happening at home?
Lucy glanced toward the hallway.
One of the adventurers was examining the family photographs on the wall.
Another had just come downstairs carrying a bag.
She typed.
Lucy: it's awful
Lucy: they're still here
Evie: Who?
Lucy: adventurers
Lucy: loads of them
Lucy: some came inside
Evie: Inside the house?
Lucy: yeah
Lucy: they searched your room
Lucy looked toward the stairs.
She could still see the cracked photograph in her mind.
Evie: What do you mean searched?
Lucy: everything
Lucy: drawers wardrobe under your bed
Lucy: they took stuff
Evie: What stuff?
Lucy: clothes i think
Lucy: and some pictures
Lucy: one of them had a bag
Lucy hesitated.
She'd wanted to tell Evelyn about the photograph.
About the notebook.
About how casually the man had taken things that belonged to her.
But she couldn't bring herself to make the message any longer.
Evie: Did Mum let them?
Lucy almost laughed.
It would have been a horrible sound.
Lucy: NO
Lucy: she was screaming at them
Lucy: dad tried to stop one
Evie: Is Dad okay??
Lucy looked into the living room.
Her father was sitting with his eyes closed.
He'd taken some painkillers, but they hadn't helped much.
Every breath seemed to hurt.
She stared at the question.
Then typed.
Lucy: yeah
Lucy: they pushed him
Lucy: he's okay though
She sent the messages.
And immediately hated herself.
Because she didn't know whether he was okay.
She didn't know whether any of them were.
***
Lucy was still staring at her phone when another argument broke out near the front door.
Her mother had apparently reached the end of her patience.
"Get away from my home!"
Lucy looked up.
Emma was standing in the open doorway, facing one of the adventurers. Her hair had come loose, her cheeks were flushed, and her hands were trembling.
"You've searched everything! You've taken her things! What more do you want?"
"Mrs. Holloway, please remain inside."
"Don't you dare tell me what to do in my own house!"
"Ma'am—"
"No! You listen to me!"
Lucy hurried into the hallway.
Her father was already moving toward the door, one hand pressed against his injured ribs.
"Dad, you shouldn't—"
He barely seemed to hear her.
He stepped up behind Emma and placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Come inside," he said quietly.
"But—"
"Please."
Lucy stopped a few steps behind them, her phone still in her hand.
From the doorway, she could see the street.
There were people everywhere.
Adventurers stood near the front gate, arguing with one another. Several unfamiliar vehicles had been parked along the road, including a dark one directly behind her father's car.
A small crowd had gathered farther down the street, where two police officers were trying to keep people back.
Someone was filming from an upstairs window.
Another person was shouting at an officer.
And all of it was happening outside their home.
Their ordinary little house, on the street where Lucy had grown up.
Her mother looked toward the crowd.
For a moment, the anger drained from her face.
She looked exhausted.
Defeated.
Lucy had never seen her mother look quite so helpless.
"Mum?" she whispered.
Emma turned slightly.
Lucy wanted to tell her that everything would be all right.
She couldn't.
Then one of the adventurers near the gate raised his voice.
"Everyone needs to clear the immediate area. We have reason to believe the target may attempt to contact her family."
Lucy went cold.
The target.
Her sister.
He was talking about Evelyn.
Another adventurer laughed.
"She'd have to be an idiot to come here."
A few people chuckled.
Lucy stared at them.
For a moment, she couldn't understand how they could find any of this amusing.
Then she looked toward the street again.
There were parked cars along the opposite pavement. A delivery vehicle partially blocked her view, and beyond it lay the narrow gap between two houses.
She had the strange impression that someone was standing there.
Watching.
Lucy narrowed her eyes.
She couldn't see anyone.
Probably just another neighbour trying to find out what was happening.
Still, the feeling lingered.
"Lucy," her father said.
She turned.
"Come inside."
Her mother had already stepped back into the hallway.
Lucy followed her, reluctantly pulling the door almost closed behind them.
Her father remained outside.
"Dad?"
"Just a moment."
He was looking toward the driveway.
The dark vehicle parked behind their car left barely any room to manoeuvre.
"We need to get you to hospital," Emma said from inside.
"I know."
Mark approached the gate.
An adventurer immediately stepped into his path.
Lucy couldn't hear everything they said through the partly closed door, but she saw her father gesture toward the car.
The adventurer shook his head.
Mark tried to explain something.
Then the man placed a hand against his chest and pushed him backward.
Not violently.
Not like the shove that had sent him into the doorframe earlier.
But enough to make him stumble.
Lucy pulled the door open.
"Hey!"
Her father raised a hand toward her.
"Stay inside."
"But he—"
"Lucy. Please."
She stopped.
The adventurer was already looking away, apparently satisfied that the matter was settled.
Her father stood by the gate for several seconds.
Then he turned and walked slowly back toward the house.
Lucy waited for him in the doorway.
"Are you okay?"
He nodded.
She didn't believe him.
When he reached her, she stepped aside to let him through.
She glanced toward the opposite pavement one last time.
The parked vehicles were still there.
The crowd was still there.
And there was still no sign of Evelyn.
Lucy closed the door.
The situation outside grew worse.
It began with raised voices.
Two groups of adventurers had arrived at the same time, and neither seemed particularly interested in sharing whatever information the family might possess.
Lucy heard an argument through the front window.
Someone accused another guild of interfering with an active pursuit.
Someone else laughed.
Then a man shouted something about the reward.
Her father insisted they stay inside.
For once, nobody argued.
The adventurers eventually left the house, but that didn't mean they were gone.
Lucy could still see people standing near the parked cars.
Others moved along the street, looking at houses, speaking into communication devices or studying their System interfaces.
Their neighbours had stopped pretending not to watch.
Curtains moved.
Doors opened and closed.
A few people stood outside, talking in frightened voices.
Lucy wondered how many of them were thinking about the reward.
How many had already searched Evelyn's name.
How many would recognize her if she walked down the street.
Her mother came into the living room.
"We need to get your father to a hospital."
Mark shook his head.
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine."
"It's bruising."
"You don't know that."
"I can breathe."
"You're barely breathing."
Lucy looked between them.
"She's right, Dad."
Mark sighed.
"I don't want to leave the house with those people outside."
Nobody had an answer to that.
Then the first explosion sounded.
It was distant enough that Lucy didn't immediately understand what she'd heard.
A heavy, rolling boom.
The windows rattled.
Oliver looked up.
"What was that?"
Her father stood.
"Stay here."
He moved toward the window.
Another explosion followed.
Closer.
Then shouting.
A car alarm began wailing somewhere down the street.
Lucy hurried to the front window.
People were running.
Not adventurers.
Ordinary people.
A woman carrying a shopping bag stumbled along the pavement. A man grabbed her arm and pulled her behind a parked vehicle.
Farther down the road, a flash of blue light struck something Lucy couldn't see.
The resulting crash shook the house.
"Oh my God," Emma whispered.
Mark reached for his phone.
"Get away from the windows."
Nobody moved.
"Now!"
Lucy stepped back.
Oliver was already crying.
Another blast sounded.
This one was close enough that dust fell from the ceiling.
Emma grabbed Oliver and pulled him toward the hallway.
Lucy followed.
Her phone was in her hand.
She didn't remember taking it out.
She opened Evelyn's conversation.
No new messages.
She pressed the call button.
It rang.
And rang.
For one horrible moment, Lucy thought nobody would answer.
Then the call connected.
***
"Lucy?"
"EVIE!"
Her sister's voice.
Alive.
Lucy pressed the phone so tightly against her ear that it hurt.
"Lucy, listen to me—"
"What's happening? There's explosions! Mum says someone's fighting outside and Dad—"
"Are you inside?"
"Yes!"
"Stay there! Don't go near the windows!"
"Are you here?"
Lucy was standing in the hallway.
Her mother had one arm around Oliver, and her father was looking toward the front door.
Another crash echoed through the neighbourhood.
"Lucy—"
"Evie, are you outside?"
There was no answer.
Lucy's stomach dropped.
She knew.
She knew before Evelyn said anything.
"Oh my God. You are."
"Listen to me. Stay with Mum and Dad, okay? Don't come outside."
"Where are you?"
"Don't worry about me."
"How am I supposed to not worry about you?"
A tremendous crash sounded through the phone.
Evelyn went quiet for a fraction of a second.
Lucy gripped the device harder.
"Lucy, I have to go."
"No! Wait!"
"I love you."
Lucy's throat closed.
"Evie—"
"I love you, okay?"
The call ended.
Lucy stared at the screen.
She didn't understand.
Not immediately.
Her sister had been there.
Somewhere outside.
Somewhere among the explosions and the screaming and the people trying to kill each other.
And she'd said goodbye.
Lucy called back.
Nothing.
She tried again.
The call didn't connect.
"Lucy?"
Her mother was standing beside her.
Lucy couldn't look at her.
"She's here."
Emma went still.
"What?"
"Evie. She's outside."
Mark moved toward them.
"Where?"
"I don't know."
"Lucy—"
"I don't know!"
Her voice broke.
"She wouldn't tell me."
Emma reached for her.
Lucy stepped away.
"She said she loved me."
Her mother froze.
"She said it twice."
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then another explosion shook the house.
Mark grabbed Lucy's arm.
"Get away from the door."
Lucy barely heard him.
She was staring at the phone.
Waiting for it to ring.
It didn't.
***
They spent the next several hours inside.
Lucy remembered very little of them clearly.
The noise.
The occasional flashes through the curtains.
Her father trying to contact the police.
Her mother sitting beside Oliver, holding him so tightly that he eventually complained she was hurting him.
Lucy remembered the smell of something burning.
She remembered hearing sirens.
She remembered a man shouting outside, followed by a sound that might have been a scream.
And she remembered watching the news.
Because the fighting wasn't only happening on their street.
Reports were coming in from across Manchester.
Guild clashes.
Damaged buildings.
Civilian casualties.
Unconfirmed sightings of Evelyn Holloway.
Someone mentioned a powerful fire-user.
Someone else claimed a woman matching Evelyn's description had been killed.
Lucy turned off the television.
She couldn't bear it.
Her sister wasn't a sighting.
She wasn't a target.
She wasn't a reward.
She was Evelyn.
The person who used to steal chips from Lucy's plate and insist they tasted better that way.
The person who had spent an entire afternoon helping Oliver with a school project, only to become more invested in it than he was.
The person who called home to complain about university assignments and then stayed on the phone for another hour because she missed everyone.
Lucy sat on the floor beside the sofa.
Her phone rested in her lap.
She waited.
And waited.
And waited.
***
Eventually, the fighting moved farther away.
Police officers came through the neighbourhood, directing residents away from damaged streets and checking whether anyone needed medical assistance.
Mark was finally taken to hospital.
Emma went with him.
Lucy and Oliver waited in a crowded corridor beneath fluorescent lights.
Her brother fell asleep against her shoulder.
She didn't move.
Not even when her arm went numb.
A doctor eventually confirmed that their father's ribs were bruised but not broken.
He would recover.
Rest.
Pain relief.
Avoid unnecessary exertion.
Lucy listened.
She nodded.
She thanked the doctor.
Then she went into the hospital bathroom, locked herself in a cubicle and cried until she felt sick.
Because her father would recover.
And nobody could tell her whether Evelyn was even alive.
***
"Lucy?"
She opened her eyes.
The motorway returned.
Her mother was holding a bottle of water toward her.
"Do you want some?"
Lucy shook her head.
"You haven't had anything since breakfast."
"I'm not hungry."
"That wasn't what I asked."
Lucy took the bottle.
Emma turned around again.
Lucy stared at the label.
She could still hear Evelyn's voice.
I love you, okay?
Her phone remained silent.
After the hospital, the police had taken statements.
They'd photographed the damage to the house.
They'd asked for descriptions of the intruders.
One officer had quietly explained that identifying the adventurers might be difficult without guild insignia or reliable System records.
Another had recommended that the family stay somewhere else for a while.
For their own safety.
Lucy had stared at him.
"So we have to leave?"
The officer looked uncomfortable.
"Given the circumstances, it would be advisable."
"They broke into our house."
"I understand."
"They hurt my dad."
"Miss Holloway—"
"And we're the ones who have to leave?"
He hadn't answered.
Not really.
Instead, he'd given her father a reference number.
Lucy still had it saved on her phone.
She wasn't sure why.
Perhaps because deleting it would mean admitting how useless it was.
***
Oliver pulled off his headphones.
"Are they going to come to Aunt Sarah's?"
The question made everyone go quiet.
Their father kept his eyes on the road.
Their mother turned slightly.
"We don't know, sweetheart."
Oliver stared at her.
"But they might?"
"Oliver," Lucy began.
"Because they found our house."
Nobody answered.
"And they know Evelyn lives with us."
"She doesn't live with us all the time," Lucy said. "She's at university."
"They know where she goes to university too."
Lucy opened her mouth.
Closed it.
He was right.
Of course he was right.
Oliver looked at their father.
"What if they find Aunt Sarah's house?"
Mark tightened his hands around the steering wheel.
"We're taking precautions."
"What precautions?"
"We're not telling anyone where we're going."
"But Aunt Sarah knows."
"She's family."
"So?"
The word hung in the car.
Lucy looked at her brother.
Thirteen years old.
And he'd already learned that being family didn't necessarily make someone safe.
Emma turned around fully.
"Oliver, listen to me. We're going to stay with your aunt for a little while. We'll be together, and we'll work out what to do next."
"What about Evie?"
Lucy looked away.
Oliver's voice became smaller.
"Is she coming?"
Their mother didn't answer immediately.
That was answer enough.
Oliver put his headphones back on.
He turned toward the window.
Lucy watched him for a moment, then reached for her phone again.
Nothing.
***
Daniel called twenty minutes later.
Lucy almost dropped the phone when she saw his name.
For a second, her heart leapt.
Daniel.
He'd known Evelyn practically forever.
If anyone might have heard something—
She answered immediately.
"Daniel?"
"Lucy?"
His voice sounded tired.
Relieved, almost.
"Thank God. I've been trying to reach you."
Lucy sat straighter.
"Have you heard from Evie?"
A pause.
"No."
The hope vanished so quickly it made her feel foolish.
"Oh."
"I'm sorry."
She closed her eyes.
"It's okay."
"No, it isn't."
Something about the way he said it made her throat tighten.
Daniel sounded genuinely upset.
And unlike the reporters, the police officers and the strangers who kept calling their house, he wasn't asking how much money Evelyn might be worth.
He was asking about Evelyn.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
Lucy looked at her father's bruised face, her mother's rigid shoulders and Oliver pretending not to listen.
"No."
Daniel was silent.
Then, softly, "What happened?"
Lucy hesitated.
"People came to the house."
"What people?"
"Adventurers. I don't know which guild. They didn't say."
"Did they hurt anyone?"
"Dad."
His breathing changed.
"What?"
"They shoved him into a doorframe. He's got bruised ribs."
"Jesus."
Lucy swallowed.
"They went through everything. Evelyn's room. Our phones. They took pictures."
"Lucy..."
"They were looking for her."
"I know."
"No, you don't understand. They were talking about her like—"
Her voice cracked.
She pressed a hand over her eyes.
"Like she wasn't even a person."
Daniel didn't speak for several seconds.
When he did, his voice was quieter.
"I'm so sorry."
Lucy wiped her face.
She hated crying, especially in front of Oliver.
Even if he was pretending not to notice.
"Have you seen anything?" she asked. "Anything at all? There were reports about fighting in Manchester, and people said someone matching her description was there, but nobody knows what happened."
Daniel took a breath.
"I've heard the same rumours."
"Do you think she's alive?"
Another pause.
Longer this time.
"I think Evelyn is... harder to find than people realize."
Lucy frowned.
"What does that mean?"
"I just mean she's clever. She knows how to keep moving."
Lucy stared at the seat in front of her.
Evelyn was clever.
But she wasn't a fighter.
She wasn't an adventurer.
She was the person who called Lucy when she couldn't decide whether a strange noise from her washing machine meant it was about to explode.
"She's never done anything like this," Lucy whispered.
"I know."
"She's going to be terrified."
Daniel didn't answer.
Lucy heard a faint sound on his end of the call.
A door closing, perhaps.
"Daniel?"
"I'm here."
"Where are you?"
"Out."
"Out where?"
"Trying to find out what happened."
She frowned.
"Are you looking for her?"
"Of course."
The answer came immediately.
But Lucy was too exhausted to think much of it.
"Please be careful."
"I will."
"And if you find her—"
Her voice broke again.
Daniel waited.
"If you find her, please don't let anyone hurt her."
Silence.
Then he said, very gently, "I'll do everything I can to help her."
Lucy closed her eyes.
"Thank you."
"Has she contacted you?"
The question was quiet.
Almost casual.
Lucy hesitated.
"She called yesterday."
Another silence.
"When?"
"During the fighting."
"What did she say?"
"Not much. She wanted to know if we were inside. She told us to stay away from the windows."
"Did she tell you where she was?"
"No."
"Anything about where she was going?"
"No."
Daniel exhaled softly.
"All right."
Lucy frowned.
"Why?"
"I'm worried about her."
"So am I."
"I know."
His voice softened again.
"If she contacts you, call me."
Lucy hesitated.
Her father had been listening.
She could tell by the way his eyes flicked toward the rear-view mirror.
He shook his head once.
Small.
Deliberate.
Lucy looked at him.
Then at her phone.
"I don't know, Daniel."
A pause.
"What do you mean?"
"Dad doesn't want us telling anyone anything."
"That's understandable."
"He thinks people might use us to find her."
"They might."
Daniel sounded calm.
Reasonable.
Lucy felt a little ashamed.
"Sorry. It's not that we don't trust you."
"You don't have to apologize."
He paused.
"Your family's been through enough."
She swallowed.
"Yeah."
"Are you staying at the house?"
"No. We're leaving."
"Where are you going?"
Lucy looked toward her father again.
His expression hadn't changed.
"I can't say."
For a moment, Daniel said nothing.
Then he sighed softly.
"Good."
Lucy blinked.
"Good?"
"The fewer people who know, the safer you'll be."
Some of the tension left her shoulders.
"Right."
"Just promise me something."
"What?"
"If Evelyn contacts you, tell her I'm trying to help."
Lucy stared at the passing countryside.
"Okay."
"And tell her..."
He stopped.
"Tell her what?"
Another pause.
"Tell her I haven't given up on her."
Lucy pressed her lips together.
"I will."
"Take care of yourself, Lucy."
"You too."
The call ended.
For several seconds, she held the phone against her ear.
Then she lowered it.
Her mother glanced back.
"Daniel?"
Lucy nodded.
"He hasn't heard anything."
Her father said nothing.
Lucy looked at him.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Dad."
He sighed.
"I don't want anyone knowing where we're staying."
"I didn't tell him."
"Good."
"He's Daniel."
"I know who he is."
"He's been Evelyn's friend since they were kids."
Her father winced as he adjusted his position.
"Right now, I don't care how long anyone's known us."
Lucy opened her mouth.
Then closed it.
She wanted to argue.
Daniel wasn't some stranger.
He'd been at birthdays, Christmas dinners and family barbecues.
He knew which cupboard her mother kept the good biscuits in.
He knew Oliver hated mushrooms.
He'd helped Evelyn move boxes into her university accommodation.
He was practically family.
But Lucy remembered the adventurer standing in Evelyn's bedroom.
The cracked photograph.
Her father's blood.
And she said nothing.
***
Aunt Sarah lived in a village outside Manchester, far enough from the city that the roads narrowed between hedgerows and the houses stood farther apart.
Lucy had always liked visiting.
There was a small garden behind the house, an old apple tree and a kitchen that smelled permanently of coffee.
When they arrived, Sarah was waiting by the front door.
She hurried down the path before the car had fully stopped.
"Oh, God."
She looked at Lucy's father.
Then at his face.
"Oh, Mark."
"I'm all right."
"Don't you dare say that."
She pulled him into a careful hug.
He winced.
Sarah immediately stepped back.
"Sorry. Sorry."
Then she looked at Lucy's mother.
"Come inside. All of you."
Oliver climbed out of the car.
Sarah opened her arms.
He walked straight into them.
That was when Lucy realized how frightened he still was.
Oliver didn't hug people like that anymore.
He was thirteen.
Apparently too old for most forms of affection.
But he buried his face against their aunt's shoulder and stayed there.
Sarah held him without saying anything.
Lucy looked away.
***
The kitchen was warm.
That was the first thing she noticed.
Warm and bright, with sunlight falling across the wooden table.
Sarah had made sandwiches.
There was soup on the stove.
A plate of biscuits sat beside the kettle.
It was such an ordinary scene that Lucy almost couldn't bear it.
Her mother sat down and immediately began apologizing.
For arriving unexpectedly.
For bringing so many bags.
For causing trouble.
Sarah interrupted her.
"Emma."
Her mother stopped.
"You're not causing trouble."
"I know, but—"
"No."
Sarah pulled out a chair.
"Sit down."
Emma sat.
For a moment, she looked as though she might argue.
Then her face crumpled.
Lucy had seen her mother cry before.
At funerals.
During sad films.
Once when Oliver had broken his arm and she'd spent three hours convinced something worse had happened.
But she'd never seen her cry like this.
Quietly.
Without trying to hide it.
As though she'd been holding herself together by sheer force of will and had finally run out of strength.
Sarah wrapped her arms around her.
Emma pressed her face against her sister's shoulder.
"I don't know what to do."
The words were muffled.
"I don't know what we're supposed to do."
Sarah held her tighter.
Lucy stood beside the kitchen counter.
She didn't know where to look.
Her father sat carefully at the table.
Oliver stared at his shoes.
Nobody spoke.
Then Emma whispered, "She's my little girl."
Lucy felt her throat tighten.
"I know she's twenty-one. I know she's grown up. But she's still—"
Her voice broke.
"She's still my little girl."
Lucy turned away.
She couldn't watch.
Not because she didn't care.
Because if she started crying now, she wasn't sure she'd stop.
***
Later, Oliver fell asleep on the sofa.
He'd barely touched his soup.
Their father was upstairs resting, though Lucy suspected he was simply lying awake and worrying.
Emma and Sarah were talking quietly in the kitchen.
Lucy sat at the dining table with her phone.
The news was everywhere.
It had been everywhere since the quest appeared.
But the coverage had changed.
At first, people had treated it as an unprecedented System event.
Experts discussed the reward.
Adventurers speculated about the objective.
Commentators debated whether the System could issue a quest targeting an ordinary person.
Now the reports were about violence.
Guild clashes in Manchester.
Civilian injuries.
Damaged buildings.
Unconfirmed sightings.
One channel showed footage of a street filled with smoke.
Lucy recognized the area.
Not far from Evelyn's university.
Her stomach tightened.
A reporter stood in front of a police cordon.
"...authorities have yet to confirm whether Evelyn Holloway was present during the confrontation. Multiple guild representatives have declined to comment, while the International Adventurers Association has urged restraint—"
Lucy switched channels.
Another presenter was speaking.
"...questions remain regarding the nature of Holloway's involvement and whether the World Quest represents a warning of a larger System-related threat."
Lucy stared.
Involvement?
As though Evelyn had organized the whole thing.
As though she'd personally invited armed adventurers to fight over the right to kill her.
The presenter continued.
"Some analysts have suggested that the extraordinary reward may indicate the target possesses abilities beyond those currently documented."
A man beside her nodded.
"That's certainly possible. The System doesn't offer legendary rewards lightly."
Lucy turned the television off.
The silence was immediate.
She stared at the black screen.
Her reflection stared back.
Tired eyes.
Pale face.
Hair that hadn't been brushed properly that morning.
She barely recognized herself.
And she wasn't even the one being hunted.
Her phone vibrated.
Lucy grabbed it.
A message.
Not Evelyn.
A university friend.
Hey. Saw the news. Is it true about your sister?
Lucy stared at the words.
Then deleted the notification.
Another message appeared.
Sorry to bother you, but do you know where Evelyn is?
She blocked the number.
A third message arrived from someone she hadn't spoken to in years.
Are you okay?
She almost answered.
Then another followed.
Do you think the reward is real?
Lucy turned the phone face down.
She sat there for a long time.
Then she began to cry.
Quietly.
Without making a sound.
***
It was nearly evening when she finally went outside.
Sarah's garden was small but carefully maintained.
There were flowerbeds along the fence and an old wooden bench beneath the apple tree.
Lucy sat down.
The air was cool.
Somewhere nearby, a dog barked.
She could hear a car passing along the road beyond the hedge.
Ordinary sounds.
A normal village.
For a moment, she tried to imagine that nothing had happened.
That Evelyn was simply busy.
That she'd forgotten to charge her phone.
That she'd call later and complain about an assignment.
Lucy took out her phone.
Opened their conversation.
The last message she'd sent was still there.
I love you. Please be okay.
Undelivered.
She stared at it.
She'd sent other messages since their final call.
Questions.
Pleading.
Promises that nobody would be angry if Evelyn had to stay away.
None had been delivered.
At some point, Lucy had stopped sending them.
Not because she'd run out of things to say.
Because she was afraid of what the silence meant.
She lowered the phone.
She wiped her face with her sleeve.
"Please," she whispered.
She wasn't sure who she was talking to.
Evelyn.
The System.
God.
Anyone who might be listening.
"Please let her be okay."
A voice came from beyond the garden gate.
"Lucy Holloway?"
She froze.
Slowly, she looked up.
A man stood on the other side of the low wooden gate.
She hadn't heard him approach.
He was dressed simply.
Dark trousers.
A dark jacket.
Black hair tied loosely behind his head.
He looked perhaps thirty.
Maybe a little older.
There was nothing particularly threatening about him.
No visible weapon.
No armour.
No guild insignia.
And yet something about his stillness made Lucy hesitate.
"Who are you?"
The man regarded her quietly.
"May I speak with you?"
Lucy stood.
Her heart had begun beating faster.
"About what?"
"Your sister."
The words sent a chill through her.
She took a step backward.
"I don't know where she is."
"I didn't ask where she was."
Lucy stared at him.
"Then what do you want?"
The man glanced briefly toward the house.
The movement was small.
Almost casual.
But Lucy suddenly became very aware that her mother and aunt were inside.
That Oliver was sleeping on the sofa.
That her father could barely move without pain.
"How did you find us?" she demanded.
The man looked back at her.
"That isn't important at the moment."
"It is to me."
For the first time, something shifted in his expression.
Not annoyance.
Perhaps acknowledgment.
"Fair enough."
He inclined his head slightly.
"My apologies. I should have introduced myself."
Lucy gripped her phone.
The man continued.
"My name is Ren Takamura."
For a moment, the name meant nothing.
Then it did.
Lucy stared at him.
No. That wasn't possible.
She knew that name.
Everyone knew that name.
Ren Takamura.
World Rank Two.
One of the three most powerful individuals alive.
A man who almost never appeared in public.
Someone whose movements occasionally made international news.
Standing outside her aunt's garden.
Looking directly at her.
Lucy felt the blood drain from her face.
Ren watched her reaction without comment.
Then he spoke again.
"I would like to ask you something about Evelyn."