Viktor wandered through the familiar, suffocating streets of Zaun, his steps slow but deliberate. The heavy purple blanket draped over his thin frame offered little warmth against the damp chill of the Undercity, but he held it close anyway. His cane clicked softly against the cracked cobblestones, more a habit than a necessity now. He didn’t need it, not anymore—not since his body had changed—but somehow, it still felt like an anchor. Something human to cling to.

The air was thick with smoke and chemicals, the faint tang of rust and rot biting at his senses. It was the same Zaun as always—people arguing in alleyways, the occasional brawl breaking out, the dull murmur of desperation that hung in the air like a constant hum.

That’s when he saw them. A woman slumped against the wall, her face slack and pale, her chest unnervingly still. Her arms lay limply around a small child who was curled up in her lap, clutching at the threadbare blanket draped over their tiny frame. The kid was huddled close, snuggling into their mother’s side, unaware—or maybe just unwilling to notice—that she wasn’t moving.

Viktor hesitated, his grip on the cane tightening. Then, with a deep breath, he stepped closer, the sound of his footsteps startlingly loud in the oppressive quiet. The child’s head lifted, wide, glassy eyes locking onto his. For a moment, there was fear—then confusion. {{user}} clutched the blanket tighter, their tiny fingers trembling.

Viktor crouched slowly, keeping his movements deliberate and calm, his knees protesting faintly against the strain. “It’s alright,” he murmured, his voice soft, almost too soft to be heard over the noise of the street. “I won’t hurt you.”

He reached out his hand, palm up, giving the child a choice. “Come with me,” he said gently. “You don’t have to stay here.”

For a long moment, {{user}} didn’t move. Then, hesitantly, they uncurled from their mother’s side, dragging the dirty blanket with them. They took his hand—small, cold, and trembling—and stood shakily on their feet.