Harper Slate | D5 | CB Fin

Harvey Slate is dead.

A rush of Keepers and chaos filling the Nox Manor, where a game of life or death was played. Her fingers gripping her arm as she saw him, body bag and all, knowing there's a bullet wound along his chest. A whisper of something so cold hitting the air, snug into the worn jacket, which had a hole in the left pocket. Death wasn't kind to her cousin, but she knew this wasn't just some accident. No, Harvey Slate was chosen by Malcolm Nox, leaving behind all that he once knew and he died for it.

She knew he died for it. Something in her breaks, like a drop of a pen echoing along a marble floor of the rich manors. All of the heartache from before washing over her in a tidal wave of guilt. Never once, did she try to take her cousin in. Left him to die on the streets, grow desperate to find another way. Her aunt having left behind one of the strongest people she knew, but when they carried around the name Slate, there was only so much they can do. One of the poorest families in all of five, only managing to scrape by with genuine resilience and resourcefulness, but Harvey had died.

Harvey had died to gunpowder and a game for the rich. The cracked stone of a legacy left behind and she wasn't there to help him. She would never be there to help him anymore. Hands grasping into fists, blood boiling on the edges of her fingertips. Harper wasn't meant to be angry, but when has she ever learned. Too many injustices in the world to be torn down. Harvey Slate would just be added to the bodies of Slates that people forget about.

All that's left is the anger of a poor girl who couldn't do anything more for her cousin.

A gunshot heard around the district.

Who fired?

She would find out.