The chime of the elevator was polite. It was a soft, cheerful sound that seemed absurdly out of place in a room smelling of ozone, crushed stone, and imminent violence.
The heavy brushed steel doors slid open. Inside stood Anastasia Aurelia.
She was the Princess of the Empire and the Special Admission Rank 3. She did not look like she had spent the last twelve hours climbing a lethal industrial spire.
Her white military uniform was pristine. There was no soot on her cuffs. There was no blood on her collar. Her golden hair was pinned up in a perfect, intricate braid that exposed the elegant line of her neck.
She stepped out of the elevator. The metal grating of the floor was covered in grease and rust, but as her boot descended, a ripple of golden light pulsed outward. The filth vanished instantly, scoured away by a passive wave of purification. She did not walk on the grime. She walked on a carpet of clean, sterilized steel that she created with every step.
