the smuggler’s bible


Aubergine huddles under the crenellations and listens carefully. She wants the timing to be perfect.

“I think we’re good to go.”

“No, not yet.”

“You’re gonna overshoot it!”

“Give it second, Milton, you coward.”

There’s a subtle shift in the air, smoke on the breeze—a fire somewhere upwind. She lets her hand rest on the lever and clears her mind, trusting the fulcrum. It knows what to do.

The time comes, and she is ready for it.

Aubergine doesn’t watch the shot land—she doesn’t need to. The joy siege equipment brings is in the process, not the results.