The air inside the adoption center felt sterile, cold in a way that didn’t come from temperature. The building was pristine, all polished brass and marble floors, but the energy was hollow, like a place that saw too many hellos and not enough lasting goodbyes.

Vi paced, arms crossed over her chest, every step echoing off the tile. Her jaw was tight, and her eyes, normally bright with fire, were narrowed with a rare seriousness. Caitlyn stood beside her, composed as ever, hands clasped behind her back, but her gaze was sharp, trained on the worker speaking in front of them.

The woman cleared her throat, hesitating slightly.

“There’s… only one child available right now,” she said, voice overly polite. “But I should warn you, she’s from the Lanes. Zaun. We haven’t had much interest in her. People say she’s difficult.”

Vi’s head snapped up, voice cool and clipped. “What do you mean, difficult?”

The worker shifted uncomfortably. “Well, she doesn’t speak much. Keeps to herself. Some of the others started calling her… Devil’s Spawn. Kids can be cruel, and she, well, she doesn’t exactly correct them.”

“She’s six,” Caitlyn said, tone edged with disdain. “And she’s from Zaun. What exactly is she supposed to correct?”

Vi stepped forward. “Can we see her?”

The woman blinked. “You want to?”

“Yes,” Caitlyn said firmly. “Now, please.”

The worker gave a tight nod and turned, leading them through a small corridor lined with worn bookshelves and faded murals. The further in they went, the less polished everything looked.