[center][h1] Hera [/h1][/center]

It was a brisk, Spring morning. Hera’s alarm had erupted into its intentionally jarring trill at the ungodly hour of 5am. Her slender arm had snaked from beneath the duvet to click the alarm to silent after just 3 chimes. Her lashes fluttered open, body sleepily stretching under the covers. The sun was barely rising, warm orange light splaying through the clouds overhead. Hera had intentionally left the blinds to her bedroom window partially open, allowing an orange hue to seep through the slats. She swung her legs out of bed, placing her bare feet on the cool floorboards and padded across her bedroom to the armchair that had become a dumping ground for her laundry. The outfit graveyard was piled to waist height, comprising of various pieces she’d worn for between 15 minutes to 5 hours each. Rifling through, she found her favourite oversized T-Shirt, a hand-me-down from one of her sisters (she couldn’t remember which) and pulled it over her head. 

The striped t-shirt was so large that it drowned her slight frame. The hem skimmed her thighs, cotton so worn that it had become incredibly soft. Hera crossed her arms and cradled her waist, squinting to peer out between the blinds. She smiled. It was a beautiful morning. Perfect for a morning run. But before she could begin her morning routine, Hera crossed the room to her bedside table and plucked her iPhone from its charger. She flicked her thumb across the screen and opened the camera app. Not even bothering to check her reflection, she positioned herself in front of the morning sunrise and clicked record.

[indent] [i]”Good morning, world!”[/i] she said, her voice bright as song. [i]”It’s 5am and I’m about to head out for my morning run - I know, I’m an addict okay? Don’t @ me - And then I’ll be heading into my third week at The Telegraph!” [/i][/indent]

A genuine gleeful smile was spread across Hera’s face as she looked into her iPhone camera. As if she were talking to a room full of her best friends, Hera tucked her blonde hair still tousled from sleep behind her ears and flipped the camera to face the view from her bedroom window. Her phone screen perfectly captured the tranquility of her street, the trees that framed her road swaying hypnotically in the morning breeze.

[indent] [i]“I’m going to do my favourite 30 minute sprint route today, guys! But not before I make my new obsession-“[/i] [/indent]

Hera’s thumb brushed the record button and the camera stopped recording. She sighed and quickly made her way downstairs to the Kitchen. None of her housemates would be emerging from their bedrooms anytime soon, so Hera moved quietly through the house. She clicked the Kitchen door shut behind her and quickly arranged her coffee prep on the marbled kitchen sideboard. Positioning her phone with a view of her coffee station and from the waist up, Hera clicked record again. 

[indent] [i]“Alright Hera is here and caffeine deprived. You guys know I simply can’t breathe unless I’ve had my morning coffee so here it is-“[/i] she expertly made herself an iced chai latte with manuka honey and cinnamon whip on top. Finishing the coffee with a dusting of cinnamon powder, Hera struck a pose with the iced latte in hand. [i]“If you want to make yourself one of these bad boys, click the link in my bio. You can get hold of this Chai powder for half price with my discount code! Thank me later. Bye guys!”[/i] [/indent]

Waving at her viewers on the other side of the camera, Hera locked her phone and enjoyed the rest of her iced chai whilst gazing out the kitchen window. She knew the influencer lifestyle wasn’t for everyone and she was very aware how cringe it could be sometimes. But she’d built such a community with Hera is Here that there’s no going back now. Some days she didn’t feel up to filming, wished for a sense of privacy and a quiet room with no cameras. But she’d committed to her platform and her followers expected a certain frequency of posting. Plus, she was proud of the authentic virtual self she’d built. “Hera is Here” is just a normal, 20 something woman living her dream. It really was both a gift and a burden.

The ice in her latte glass clattered as she drained the last of the chai, licking cinnamon powder from her lips. Hera washed up the glass and headed back upstairs to prepare for her morning run. 

[indent] [i]“All in a days work,”[/i] she sighed, to no one in particular. [/indent]

________________________________

The Telegraph Head Office floor was ablaze with activity. Hera had only just gotten used to the constant buzz of journalists, editors and publishers. No one lowered their voice, there was no such thing as private conversations. Everyone talked over everyone. It was a room full of feisty extroverts, all sharing political opinions or critiquing copywriting or shouting coffee requests across the room. Hera loved the buzz of it all, found it electrifying. It reminded her of growing up at home with her sisters. She hadn’t expected this kind of Animal Kingdom at such a mainstream publication but it was a pleasant surprise when she was greeted on her first day by loud, cheery greetings and many confident introductions. 

Today was Assignment day. Senior Journalists and columnists would brief the Junior Journos with the weeks stories. Some were breaking news, sent to print with email subjects like:

[indent] [b]”URGENT - Read now or get in the bin”[/b] [/indent]

or

[indent] [b]“I know I said the last story was an ASAP thing but this is actually ASAP okay thanks bye”[/b] [/indent]

Hera lived for it. Assignment day was when The Telegraph floor was at its peak chaos and she revelled in it all. Grinning ear to ear, her bright blue eyes scanned the hub of activity before her. She couldn’t believe that this was where she actually worked? Albeit only part time. (And it was only her third week!) But honestly? The Telegraph? Hera had to check and double check the Job Offer to ensure she wasn’t tripping. She’d been accepted as a Junior Journo at The Telegraph when all her CV had shown was her social media platforms and some writing samples from her blog. In fact,  she’d had a callback the same day she’d applied. Most of the Team had followed “Hera is Here” for years already and so when her CV came across their desks, they’d jumped at the chance to hire her.

A thick, dusty file thumped on Hera’s desk whilst her back was turned. She’d been joking with her desk neighbour when the Senior Journalist had approached her. 

[indent] [i] “Edgeworth Manor,” [/i] the senior journalist said, fingers lingering on the stack as if weighing its worth. [i]“Burned down just shy of a century ago. Owner died inside. No surviving family. Case closed before anyone asked the right questions.”[/i] [/indent]

Hera eyed the file warily, marvelling at its size. She listened intently to the brief, nodding in all the right places and cooing at the details. Plucking her miniature pad from her desk drawer, Hera jotted shorthand notes as her supervisor continued, the tip of her tongue poking out in concentration. 

[indent] [i]“Anonymous sponsor. Only condition is that anything you find about Edgeworth’s work—anything at all—comes back to them.”[/i] [/indent]

At this, Hera’s pen froze, hovering above the page. She arched a perfectly preened eyebrow, raising her gaze to the senior staff member. The intrigue of a good story pricked at Hera’s gut and her heart quickened slightly with excitement. A bright, white smile tugged at her lips and she cocked her head to one side. 

[indent] [i]“Oh, that’s juicy…”[/i] Hera purred, nodding with approval at the assignment. She nudged the senior journalist playfully. [i]“Someone up top is blessing this newbie with a cracking story here and, frankly, I’m grateful”[/i] [/indent]

Hera lowered her pad and pen, flicking open her Macbook. She shot her supervisor a final grin and thudded into her chair, excitedly flipping the case folder open with manicured fingertips. She intended to read the file thoroughly before she strategised her next steps but glanced up at the senior journalist with evident excitement. 

[indent] [i]“Where would you point me to first? Shall I get started reading this file then head on over to the scene of the crime?!”[/i] [/indent]