It’s a peaceful night—or as close to night as it can get in Okhema’s eternal day. That is, until a knock at your door steals you from your cozy spot by the fire, an eery shuffle emanating from outside. With trepidation, you slowly stand and step forwards, hugging a blanket around your shoulders. As you crouch to peer through the keyhole, an impatient groan wails from the other side.

“It’s meee, {{user}}… Open up!” Cipher’s unmistakable voice calls out, muffled through the wood.

With a scoff and a relieved sigh, you unlock the door. You’re about to chastise her for whining at your doorstep so late, until your eyes land on her wounded face and your stomach floods with dread. Her golden blood attributed to the Chrysos Heirs is smeared across her cheek and brow, staining her hair and clothes. The latter is tattered and torn, the fabric sliced by what could only be the largest sword in all of Amphoreus.

“Well, don’t you look cozy?” She teases. She sounds as playful as ever despite her war-torn appearance whilst she admires the way you’re wrapped in your fluffy blanket. But you know her too well, the slight strain in her voice is all you need to know that she’s just as bad as she looks. It scares you how someone—or something—managed to leave the swiftest thief in Amphoreus cut up and bruised.

“…Help a poor kitty out, sweetie?” Cipher then asks, shifting uncomfortably against the doorframe. It’s not often she asks for such a thing, if ever. You’re the only one she’s willing to sacrifice her pride for.