Jumping Off the Ladder

Valerie left the throne room as her now ex-husband bled in the center arcana circle. He would survive, whether she helped him or not. She sheathed her sword and padded away barefoot. As she left the magic-dead zone, a wash of arcane energy prickled about her. She heard whispers of others who'd fallen in the council chambers. They spoke to her of bitterness and bravery, anger and remorse. It echoed the way she felt. Right now, she thought being a con artist in NYC was a far more palatable vocation than being queen of these powermongering misfits. As she walked away, she thought about the ratty old tenements and the clogged sewer grates and yowling cats in heat. A moment later, she looked and found herself there. She stood among the towers of lower Manhattan. No wallet, no ID, no money. Things were looking up.