We meet Director Suxen in an alley barely a hundred meters away from the building where I stashed my flow. I chose this one because we can retreat there if something goes wrong.

Tsek stands vigil from the roofs while Aisha, Vikiana, and I hide in the streets below out of sight from the crossing we told her to meet us at. Tsek can easily warn us when they get in range.

As we wait for Suxen to arrive, the Exemplar makes use of the time to continue training me in hand-to-hand combat. She shows me various holds to break or submit my opponents while I'm shackled. We spar in slow-motion to avoid exerting ourselves.

It's difficult to tell which one of us wins at slow speeds but I do more often than not considering Vikiana can't counter my symbiont's strength, the best she can do is match it with a strengthening construct.

I also have an advantage as my symbiont's range of movement is inhuman and it can set its bones back in their sockets by itself. These things don't change the fact that Vikiana's skill is far above mine.

One of my worries rears its head again, the fact that getting trained by the Exemplar means that she is getting a very, very, good idea of what my weaknesses are.

It is no longer in general terms, as it was before when she criticized the way I do battle, she has now acquired an intimate knowledge of my habits and thought processes whether I attack or defend.

Although, that works both ways as demonstrated during this little training session. If it comes to a fight between us, I must either take her out at long-range with flow or engage her at very close range where I can leverage my symbiont's advantages.

“Heads up!” Tsek calls out. “Twelve of them this time, counting the Director, no one else in sight.”

The three of us perk our heads up, Aisha takes the lead while Vikiana stands behind me. Twelve, so one more. The Shade throws me a glance. I wait until I detect the Director enter my other sense's range to give Aisha permission with a nod.

She walks out of the alley. I follow after nervously adjusting my mask over my face and activating the runic shackles around my wrists. Through my sense, I detect Vikiana taking a deep breath.

Suxen is standing in-between two of her Numbers, four and six. There is a satchel around her shoulder, inside that bag are various glass containers, some full, some empty, and a frightening amount of sharp blades.

The other eight members of her escort are dispersed behind them. The composition is identical to last time as far as I can tell, half men with two-handed long-swords, half women with short swords and shields. All of them wear dark cloaks.

The eleventh is carrying Suxen's book with both hands and is obviously not one of her guards as he wears the same kind of white blouse as she does, except a little shorter. His gaze is alert and worried, in sharp contrast with Suxen's inscrutable personality.

“Let's go, there is work to do.” The Director declares with a polite smile. “I'm bringing my assistant, number four, and number six. Non-negotiable, he is necessary to speed this up.” I ruffle my shackles to signal my agreement to the Shade.

“One hour from when we arrive at the warehouse.” Aisha replies.

We make our way out of the slums in silence. The assistant trails behind the group, often throwing looks at my back. He's either a really good actor or so jittery that I doubt he'll be a threat.

My worry is that he's male and I've inferred from Aisha's comments that the Shade posted in Meiridin is also male but that's true for half the population so it isn't much to go on. I try to keep my attention on him nevertheless but Suxen's frightening smile makes it very difficult.

It takes us a good half-hour for our group of seven to get to the warehouse, I'm not counting Tsek because he is to stay behind for ten minutes to ensure that the rest of Suxen's escort isn't following us and only then rejoin us by taking a convoluted route.

Suxen sends her two Numbers inside first and then follows with her assistant. Since she doesn't have eyes on me, I deactivate the runic shackles and set the timers for the constructs I set all around the warehouse to countdown from an hour. If we went in first, I could have done that as well.

I walk inside and find that the assistant is dusting a shelf's lowest rung while Suxen flips through her book's pages. Once the man is done, she deposits her satchel and book on it.

“The chair will do, four, six, set the specimen down on it.” Suxen orders offhandedly without even looking over her shoulder.

The two women turn to me in sync, they walk around me, dead-eyes locked on my shoulders. They seize and drag me over to the chair, forcefully making me sit down in it.

“Four remove the specimen's clothes, six secure the specimen while four does so. Once done, use your runic shackles to secure the specimen's wrists to the corresponding armrest and the ankles to the corresponding leg chair.” The Director instructs.

I had hoped that I wouldn't end up naked again as she quickly lost interest in my intimacy last time. Regardless, it isn't unexpected. I close my eyes and focus on my breathing.

It doesn't help as I can only detect what's happening more clearly through my symbiont's sense. It has grown into such an integral part of me that, unless my eyes are open, I cannot shut it out.

The numbers strip me bare, sleeve glove last, before taking three other pairs of runic shackles out to chain me to the chair. Suxen absently waves her hand at the chair to reinforce the wood with a construct.

Thankfully, my mask remains. I might have killed them all here and now if they removed it. I can tolerate Aisha because as much as I don't trust her, and despite what Vikiana told me, I truly think that there are limits to how far she'll go.

Not to mention that her affection for Cecil isn't faked. She was prepared to defend the Madame and attack me to do so despite the fact that, even then, I don't doubt she suspected that I was a Rykz creation.

The Director, on the other hand, I cannot tolerate living after seeing my face. I suddenly notice something I've dreaded seeing on a human's face for so long. The look of horror on the assistant's face as his lock onto my left shoulder and arm.

He didn't even spare a glance at my chest or thighs. The man is completely aghast by the sight of my symbiont. His cheek's lower in temperature, he is paling. It takes all I have to grit my teeth and push away the superposition of Leomi's face, gazing at me with the same expression. I shiver and tremble like I'm standing in snow.

“It appears that the specimen is frightened.” Suxen observes. “I will not tolerate distractions, Francis. If you cannot handle the aphrodisiac, perhaps you will be better suited to work in the third laboratory.”

“Don't send me to the zoo, I would never find that abomination attractive!” The assistant, Francis, exclaims with wide fearful eyes.

“Abomination.” Suxen repeats coldly. “We are scientists, Francis, not zealots. This specimen represents advances in fields we've barely even defined yet. Now, take a.” She pauses.

The Director suddenly takes her runic glasses out of her front pocket and walks up to me. She sets them on her nose and injects flow into the runes before leaning over my symbiont to touch it with the tip of her finger.

“Odd. The parasite is not deploying the aphrodisiac.” Suxen comments. “Was I incorrect to think it was triggered by the specimen's fear? The specimen wasn't ovulating last week so that cannot be it.” She ponders for a moment. “Shade, can the specimen still ovulate?”

“How would I know?” Aisha asks back.

“It seems like something one would think to check after finding such a specimen.” Suxen replies, disconcerted by our lack of curiosity.

I hadn't thought of that. Not that having kids was ever a consideration for me. I've considered the idea of adopting one when I got older, and Father got too old for hard work.

Mostly because I feared that I would end up alone than because a child could help with farm work. At the time, I didn't think I would ever be able to find someone. It seemed to me that raising a child would be a good way to fill that void, or the only way available to me.

“It's just an arm, it wouldn't hinder her ability to bear a child.” Vikiana affirms.

“What would you know of this, Exemplar?” Suxen rebukes.

“I have a daughter.” Vikiana replies with a spark of pride in her eyes.

“And that qualifies you to speak, how?” The Director sneers.

Vikiana ignores her to turn to me with a reassuring smile. I don't think it would bother me to find out I can't have children but it warms my heart that she thinks it would and tries to comfort me. That simple gesture helps a little, it allows me to fight back against the trembling of my limbs.

Except, now that I've seen the face that the assistant made, I cannot get the terrifying image of my Lady turning away from me with disgust. It might be irrational, but he is the first 'normal' human who has seen it.

The rest were Templars and a Shade, hardened warriors and an agent who infiltrated Rykz territory. Lance is one too, but she holds no love for the Rykz, perhaps even hatred. I cannot fathom her accepting me like this, it is already difficult for me to believe that she would want to be with a cripple for long.

After all, the vow she broke only mentioned messing me up, no more. It'll be difficult enough to break past her resolve not to be with me. I'll be no one. Thrown away. I'll end up alone.

I am almost thankful for the distraction when Suxen lays a hand on my lower belly. She sends a very small and diffuse construct inside, around my ovaries. It doesn't infiltrate or cause pain, but this remains another violation I'll have to make her pay for.

“No damage, the specimen's reproductive organs appear functional at first inspection.” Suxen speaks up.

Francis picks up a quill and writes down in the book. The Director pulls her construct back and takes hold of my knees to split them apart. She throws a rapid glance at my sex before releasing my legs and seizing my jaw, pushing my mask slightly up with the back of her hand for a quick visual teeth inspection, she then takes a look into my ears.

“No discernible changes from last week.” She tells Francis.

The Director assembles a large construct, the same one she used last time to probe me. After a minute of scanning my body, a frown appears on her face, her polite smile finally fades from her lips.

“Bring me my notes, Francis. I need to take a look at my points of reference.” Suxen calls out.

The assistant walks over, avoiding to look at me, traits reflecting his distaste at approaching me. He hands the book over to the Director who instructs him to measure my hair and nails while she reads.

Francis takes a string out of his pocket, which is marked every millimeter. He takes a single step in my direction before stopping short when his eyes fall on me. He jams the string back in his pocket and throws a stealthy glance at Suxen.

Finding that she isn't paying any attention to him, the assistant shapes a construct which he applies over my hair and nails. He quickly obliterates it and tells Suxen how long my hair and nails are.

“That is inconsistent with how long they should be, were the specimen aging faster. This is a step in the direction of proving that the parasite can alter the specimen's metabolic rate in function of what benefits it.” Suxen nods.

Does that mean my symbiont is killing me but not all the time? I find no time to ponder on the matter as Suxen takes a scalpel out of her pocket and suddenly stabs me right where one of the tendrils fused with my abdominal muscles. My symbiont tried to react and stop it but the runic shackle doesn't have enough slack so it didn't even come near stopping her.

“Arh.” I groan.

“Impressive reflexes, note that down Francis.” Suxen comments. “And bring me the containers I told you to prepare.”

“Suxen!” Aisha shouts.

“I am testing the degree to which the parasite has integrated the host specimen.” The Director explains absently.

She punctuates her words by twisting the scalpel in my wound, making me scream in pain. I deal with it and stop my symbiont from injecting its cool substance into my body. I do not want the Director to know about it.

I can deal with pain, I know pain. My Lady, don't leave me. My wandering, delirious, thoughts are interrupted by my symbiont, it feels like it's silently whining at me as it tries to heal our injury because the blade impaling its tendril and my abs is causing it trouble.

“The blood is viscous, it resembles sap, same as the Princess and the drones.” Suxen observes. She then pulls the scalpel out and dips her pinky finger into the injury. She brings it up to her mouth and tastes it. “Sugary.”

“You'd confirmed that before, no?” Francis asks.

“Indirectly.” She replies.

“Should I make a cut? That so-called Princess starved every time we bled it and ate whatever we gave her.” Francis says.

“Let's see if the specimen does so on its own first.” The Director denies.

What did they do to Celyz' sister, to Cetyz? I shake my head out of it to inspect what they're about to do to me. The assistant has two glass jars, one in each hand. The first contains a slab of meat while the second is empty. Francis hands the first one over and Suxen opens it.

“Open the parasite's hand, specimen, and eat it.” She orders me.

“Wait.” Aisha intervenes. “What's in it?”

“It's only meat.” The Director replies.

“If she ends up drugged, this will be the last you'll see of us, Director.” Aisha threatens.

“It is beef, Shade.” Suxen utters impatiently. “The drones and the Princesses have a similar makeup, it is necessary to do some tests to determine the parasite's origin.”

“Wait, you mean you can't tell?!” Aisha exclaims.

“I just told you I can by running tests, do not interrupt me again with such inane remarks.” Suxen declares and turns back to me. “Open that left hand, specimen, or I will bleed you and then the parasite.”

I do so and she drops the slab of meat into my palm. I close my fingers around it and tell my symbiont to eat, which calms it down. It begins exuding its clear milky saliva through the pores of its rubbery brown skin to eat the slab of meat.

“Drones cannot eat like this.” Francis comments.

“Indeed. The parasite has tendrils so this was a foregone conclusion but that doesn't mean we should stop seeking confirmation.” Suxen replies. “Take a sample and then prepare the pincers.”

Francis makes a grimace as he uses a thin slab of wood to take a bit of my symbiont's saliva and then drops it in the empty jar. He then puts it away in the Director's satchel. He comes back with a pair on thin, flat-headed scissors.

Suxen takes it and proceeds to jam the tool into the scalpel wound she made. I cry out. She ignores me to seize the tendril she injured. She then tries to pull it out, unsuccessfully for several reasons.

The slippery blood, my symbiont's struggles, and the fact that the end of the tendril is fused to my abs. The issue is that the attempt causes no end of distress to my symbiont and I have to smother my own to soothe it which forces me to set my anxiety about Leomi aside to be in the present, to not only control myself but help and reassure my symbiont.

An anxiety that has only been growing with the time I've spent apart and worried about us, alone. I feel a sharp pain where my left breast was, realizing with a delay that I dozed off.

The Director hands the scalpel she used to open my flesh over to Francis and takes back the pair of flat-headed scissors. She sets the heads into the cut and forces it wide open, tearing skin in the process.

She then takes hold of one of the tendrils wrapped around my bones and pulls on it. I notice that Vikiana is looking away, pale. Aisha's left hand is on her shoulder but she is keeping her eyes on me.

I feel a burst of sexual desire. There is no possible doubt that this is my symbiont's way of looking for help. Leomi. I try to plunge into my arousal, to use it as a way to pass time, but it fades as soon as it emerged.

It is replaced by a deep feeling of loneliness and depression, which are my own. Before I can even attempt to settle my emotions, Suxen removes the slab of meat from my hand and I have to focus entirely on my symbiont, reassure it.

The Director turns back to the tendrils in my chest, using a construct and her scissors. At the same time, Francis is surveying both my wounds with constructs of his own. I gather from their words that they're trying to determine the rate at which my wounds are healing.

I am not terribly surprised that the one on my abs is mending faster although they can't say how much because the time frame available to them is too short. Vikiana pinches her lips at the complaint and turns to throw me a glance.

I look down, away from her light blue eyes, unwilling to see her expression as her traits are now only a reminder of how alone I am. I do not know how long I stay like that on the chair, butchered on a small scale, but it can't have been more than an hour.

Can it? My constructs could have failed. Aisha could have betrayed me. She didn't even know where... I wiggle in my shackles, fight them, giggle. Francis steps on my bare foot and barks something at me. I growl in return and he steps back.

“The hour is up, Suxen.” Aisha speaks up. “Did you get what you needed?”

“I require a bit more of the specimen's flow but yes.” The Director replies. “Number six, open the right wrist shackle.” She pauses for a moment. “Oh, and word of warning. Don't touch the saliva coming out of the roots, if it's anything like what the Princess uses, it contains a paralytic agent.”

“Roots?” Aisha asks.

“The fingers. See, no nails and the tips aren't nearly as sensitive as ours. Those are roots.” Suxen replies.

The woman approaches. I think to lash out, to use my constructs. I reach out when she unlocks the shackle. That small action requires concentration, enough that it wakes me up a little, allowing me to catch myself before I ruin my plan.

I forcefully control my actions. No, I freeze them. I allow myself nothing, I take refuge in that void. I feel something cold touch my right palm. A vial of water. I send a trickle of flow inside and cut my link.

I hear a bit of an argument between the Shade, the Exemplar, and the Director. I cannot split my focus so I smother myself once more. Alone.

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