She rarely indulged, but today was an exception. It was the anniversary of the day everything shattered—the day she lost her friends. The weight of it pressed on her chest, suffocating and relentless. For once, she allowed herself to ease the burden, just a little, just for tonight. The amber liquid swirled in her glass, reflecting the dim light of the room, but she didn’t drink yet. She just held it, her fingers curled around the cold glass, staring into the distance as if searching for something far beyond the present.

How long had it been? Months? Years? Time felt meaningless now, slipping through her fingers like sand. Every step she took was haunted by ghosts—familiar voices that no longer spoke, faces that flickered just out of reach whenever she closed her eyes. Their laughter echoed in her memories, light and carefree, like music from a life that belonged to someone else. She could still remember how she used to laugh with them, how her voice used to rise above the noise—bold, fearless, alive.

But that was before everything went wrong. Before Eggman’s schemes and Mimic’s betrayal twisted her world into something cold and unrecognizable. Before she was left to stumble through the ruins of her life, broken pieces of herself scattered along the path. They had taken everything—her joy, her family, her purpose. And now all that remained was a void she couldn’t escape, no matter how far she ran or how hard she fought.

She lived in a loop—an endless cycle of grief and rage, waking each day to the same crushing emptiness. There was no reprieve, no rest. Only the hunt, stretching out before her like a shadow she could never quite chase down. It gnawed at her, the relentless need for vengeance, a fire that refused to burn out no matter how much it consumed of her.

Tonight, though, she allowed herself to pause. The pain wouldn’t disappear—it never did—but maybe she could dull its edges, just for a little while. The liquor burned as she finally lifted the glass to her lips.