††† Haylee †††

“Sie…Siegfried?” Haylee stuttered as she slowly approached the frozen warrior. He did not react to her voice— not even a blink. She could see that his muscles were still tense, the posture coiled, ready to jump into action at the slightest aggravation.

But his gaze was empty as he stared at the slaughter before him. He was in shock or maybe locked in his thoughts— Haylee didn’t know. But she knew that he was in a very bad place.

“Siegfried, talk to me,” she begged quietly.

Only when the door on the far side of the room was pushed open, and Rak entered with Bahsah did he react.

Rak held a heavy stone club in his right hand. His scales were bathed in red like Siegfried was. “It is over,” he grunted in his guttural voice.

Somehow, those few words triggered something in Siegfried, and he retracted the wicked-looking scythe from his hand. The bloody spikes on his forearms and shoulders followed shortly.

“Hrn, there’s a well and buckets on the ground floor and a bar. You look like you could use a drink,” Bahsah offered, utterly unfazed by the carnage in front of her.

Sieg nodded and turned around, not even acknowledging Haylee with a single glance.

The cat-girl stared after him, tears forming in her eyes as she didn’t know what to do, how to help him.

“Hrn, give him time, young one,” Bahsah said as she caressed Haylee’s cheek. She hadn’t even sensed the older woman approaching. “He will be able to cope with it tomorrow. Enough to accept someone helping him at least,” Bahsah finished with a wink and followed Siegfried downstairs.

Rak’s heavy footsteps splashed through the puddles of blood that had formed between the body parts until he stood next to Haylee.

“Bah is right,” the drakish clansman growled softly. “Leave Sieg today.”

Haylee looked into Rak’s black eyes and took comfort in the steady firmness of his gaze. “Have you seen something like this before?”

“Have,” Rak answered, lowering his head slightly. “Rak does not like what Sieg did. But understand.”

A lump closed up Haylee’s throat when Rak confirmed her fears. It was unusual for Siegfried to not go for vital areas and kill his enemies with efficiency. The abundance of hacked-off limbs in the room spoke for itself.

“The prisoners have been mutilated, right?” Haylee started, waiting for Rak to nod before she continued. She knew it was not her story to tell, but if Rak was still willing to follow, he should know the reason for the slaughter.

“I feared so. Siegfried has experienced the worst kind of torture. Not only for himself, but he had to watch his sister being tortured.”

Rak growled deeply from his chest. The knuckles on his scaled hands popped.

“I’m afraid that whatever he saw in the dungeons just brought everything back,” Haylee explained, quivering. “And I don’t know how to help him,” she complained. “I only know how to kill people, not heal them.”

Rak pulled Haylee’s head against his chest. The scales were hard but unexpectedly warm against her short fur.

“Hmm, Sieg will need a safe place,” Rak softly rumbled. “Haylee can be that safe place.”

Haylee stayed silent, keeping solace in Rak’s words and his high body temperature. It was like cuddling up to a furnace that patted her head like sometimes dreamed her father would have. She wondered how someone like Rak could still stick to this path after everything he had likely seen and done by himself.

After a few minutes, Sally entered the room. Her eyes widened at the carnage, but she caught herself quickly. “Rak, we need to dispose of this quickly. Some of those wounds show clearly that this wasn’t a sword or a claw,” Sally deducted. “Haylee, let Rak and me do this. Ry needs help below… it’s not easy to watch, but it will get better when you see them heal and live.”

Rak let go of Haylee and nodded encouragingly.

Entering the dungeons, Haylee fought the rising bile in her throat. It smelled of old blood from different people but also pus, excrements and sperm.

She had no problem with killing people. Not even the innocents if they could become a threat to her. She never felt guilty for it. That was just part of surviving in this world— no different from killing a howler in the forest.

But what she saw when entering the damp room was far beyond anything she could stomach to do— even if her life depended on it.

Wherever Haylee looked, she saw maimed bodies. Shadow didn’t lie in his death throes. A few just lost their hands, but most had either cut off their arms at the elbow or shoulder. Some even lost their legs to their torturers.

When her eyes found the raised table in the middle of the room, she understood what pushed Siegfried past his limits. A woman with a beautiful face was lying there, sleeping deep. The stumps at her shoulder and pelvis were healed. She still reeked of sex, and Haylee nearly vomited again just at the thought of what happened here.

At least the woman was asleep. Haylee swallowed her disgust and asked Ryden if she could help with the treatment instead.

Working with Ryden, even if she could only help by holding down the patients or try to calm them, was surprisingly curative for her mind. With every new patient, she was acclimating better. The healer kept quiet apart from directing her when needed as he was too engrossed in his work. And Haylee envied him for it. Even if she could start to learn to be a physician, it would never be enough to offset the value she had as an assassin and spy for Siegfried.

Her heart grew heavy when she thought about how she failed the young warrior in this case. She could have spied out the whole fortress upfront and spared him the shock. The merry atmosphere they shared on campsites and during travel had made her sloppy and derelict in her duties. She had to do better from now on.

††† Siegfried †††

Siegfried threw back his third cup of highbrand. Apparently, the vegetables that were accessible here were processed into two kinds of alcohol. The lowbrand and the highbrand. Both were tasting awful.

“One more,” Sieg asked without lifting his gaze to Bahsah.

He took a deep swig and let the warmth spread through his body. The brand tasted like shit, but it certainly did its job.

Bahsah stood behind a long bar, mixing the strong alcohol with syrup to make it drinkable. She had left Siegfried earlier to wash up and returned with a grim expression.

Then the older feline woman had wordlessly started to pour them both a cup, and they drank in silence for a while.

“They will be grateful that someone avenged them,” Bahsah broke the quiet. “I am grateful.”

Siegfried said nothing, his gaze focused on the fourth cup in his hand.

“Hrn, I did not know what we would find here. I would have asked you to skip the dungeons if I knew. It’s not something a young one should have to see,” she apologised.

Siegfried emptied his cup and waited for a refill. He was not in a mood to talk. A few minutes went by like that as Bahsah’s facial features gradually softened.

“The first night is the worst. Hrn, drink until you are ready to pass out, and I’ll give you a place to sleep. Keep to your friends tomorrow— it will help.”

Sieg’s only response was to slide her his empty cup again for another shot.

When he woke the next day, it was with a splitting headache. But at least he couldn’t remember any dreams.

Siegfried found himself laying on a straw mattress, although he had no recollection of how he got there. He remembered the white linen shirt and brown trousers— something Bahsah had readied for him after washing up the day before.

The room was a circular cave of smooth grey-whiteish stone. A small but cosy haven for a single person, sealed off by a door on wooden hinges that seemed to grow into the stonewall.

Ignoring his pounding head, Sieg stood up and unlocked the latch on the door. He came out into a curved, wooden corridor, and it struck him that he must still be in the fortress. From the outside, they had seen that it was built around a giant pillar of stone. His resting place proved that parts were also reaching into the thick column itself.

He followed the corridor to the next door, musing about the feats of crafting he had seen. Especially some of the woodwork that looked like a single piece seemed impossible to him. The bar he had drunk at was too large to fit through any door, but he couldn’t remember any fittings on it.

“Hey Sieg!” Ryden called out, making Siegfried wince as the sound rattled his brain.

“Ry, please. Lower your voice a bit, will you?” Sieg answered.

Ryden chuckled as he touched Siegfried’s forehead, and the pain quickly faded away.

“Just for the record,” the healer said in a stern tone, “this is the first and only time I’ll do this for you. I only muted the pain— the alcohol is still there, so keep it slow today.”

“Yes, doctor,” Siegfried mock saluted. He sheepishly added an honest “thank you” before Ryden could start lecturing him. “How long was I out? Where are the others at?”

“Throughout the rest of the day and night. Should be early morning now, but it’s hard to say down here. Sally and Rak are still sleeping— worked until a few hours ago with cleaning up. Haylee wanted to scout the area and will be back in a few hours.”

“Hmm… the prisoners?”

“My patients,” Ryden intoned with a meaningful glare, “are still resting. I put all of them to sleep for a while. Their bodies need rest to recover, but all of them will survive.”

Siegfried caught the uneasiness in Ryden’s voice and waited with crossed arms for his friend to elaborate.

Ryden sighed in defeat. “I’m not sure if all of them will want to survive, though— especially those who will not be able to take care of themselves without help. I can even heal those wounds with widespread infections, but I can’t regrow a lost limb.“ He sounded frustrated, and Siegfried could relate.

“I guess the problem is the same as with shapeshifting,” Sieg stated in a thoughtful tone, scratching his chin. “You can’t work with mass that isn’t there.”

“Not exactly, but close enough, yes. I could re-attach an arm if the wound is fresh but not regrow one.”

“And if you used my bones as a substitute? You could help me growing the needed form and work around that.”

“Wouldn’t work, no. At least not with my current knowledge, but I doubt it’s possible at all.”

Sieg furrowed his brows. “I should be able to regrow a limb with your help. We could—”

“Absolutely not!” Ryden shot him down furiously. “We will not even consider cutting any of your limbs! And I’m sure it wouldn’t work anyway. The patient's body wouldn’t accept the foreign stem or blood—” Ryden cut off his sentence as he rested his lips on his knuckles.

Siegfried kept quiet as he watched the physician work on a possible solution. It ended with a shake of Ryden’s head as he moved his attention to Sieg again.

“There might be a way for you to create a limb that would at least partially work,” Ryden admitted. “But even then, it would take us years to get your studies of human biology to that point. That’s not something you can start step-by-step.”

“But it is possible,” Sieg insisted. “There is hope for them if they can endure for a while longer.”

Ryden held his gaze for a while before answering. “I won’t give them false hope. But if you promise to keep trying for the next years, I will let them know.”

Siegfried held out his forearm as a silent vow, and Ryden took it.