Eden

On the night the moon was a sliver above the city's golden spires, Eden made a choice. They had watched another soul, equally trapped, stare out at the world from behind the polished marble of the capital, and saw a reflection of their own quiet despair. The promise to leave was unspoken, sealed only by the gift of a raspberry-pink visor, stolen from a high-ranking official's discarded effects. Their escape was a messy, desperate scramble down gemstone-lined walls, a fall that left Eden’s face scarred and their clothes in tatters. These days, in the cold wilds far from the empire's reach, the visor scans for patrols. But more often, it just reflects the face of the one they escaped with, a constant reminder of what freedom cost and why it was worth it.