The light burned yellowed at the center, orange on the fringes. It was intense despite it being small like a star in the night sky. There was a pulsing, animated liveliness to it. It was tranquil to look at, akin to staring into a campfire after a forced march throughout the day. When his eyes started to water from the stinging dryness, Cutter blinked. And then he blinked again. To his surprise he was drawing breath, alive, and staring at a burning kerosene lamp.

He sat up, perplexed at his apparent survival. The letting from the slash on his wrist had more than guaranteed his passage into that mysterious country called death. Somehow despite his wound he had delayed his passage to that country to some other day. With a curious hand he touched his slashed wrist and found it was bandaged. Something stained the white bandage with a luminescent blue and it had a pungent odor.

“I’ve applied a poultice to stem the free flow from the wrist,” Aella said, her hands crusted with old blood. “You should thank me. Bleed any more and you would have been ushered off.” There was an edge to the comment, sharp like stinging nettles on a fragile plant.

Ira laid motionless on her side. A placid veil had settled on her face, a stark contrast to the savaged state of her body. An arm was missing and her chest was struck through. It had to have been agonizing, suffering to the end. Cutter wondered whether she could only look so placid because of the promise he made to her, the little sugar that made the bitter draft easier to digest. Cutter inhaled, feeling his chest expand, then exhaled, feeling the breath expel from his lungs. The promise he made to protect her child was more so to get Ira to relax, not a sincere commitment to actually become some sort of ward to a beast child. He was a Hospitaller, a man-at-arms, sworn to a creed of annihilating all beasts rather than fostering one. He felt ill-suited, like a child wearing clothes several sizes too big. It was overwhelming to think of. Cutter wished that Ira had chosen somebody more suitable. That witch Aella would certainly be more qualified, having lived with the arachne rather than Cutter who was a stranger to their customs. He buried his head in his hands. Whether it was made in earnest or not did not matter. A promise was a promise, and his word was his bond. To rescind would mean spitting upon the sacrifice Ira made to save all their lives.

The taste of dirt had congealed onto his tongue. With his upper teeth, Cutter scraped off the layer of dirt and spat it out. He was about to stand up when he saw Pyrik who was laid next to Ira. He assumed that after getting a paralytic-laced arrow shoved into her heart the girl would have surely died. So, surprisingly, he was perplexed at the rise and fall of Pyrik’s chest. A swell of fear rose up from his stomach, and Cutter scrambled to find his saber. Aella swept in and forced Cutter back onto the ground. He could not understand why. It was made bluntly clear that the only way to subdue the girl permanently was to remove the head from the body. And just for reassurance he would have the head and body burning from day to night on a pyre. Only when the fire was exhausted and ash remained could he relax from the animal tension that possessed him.

“Calm down, captain. Calm down! Look, look! She’s reverted back to her human form,” Aella pointed out.

The wings, the claws, it was all gone. The wounds too. Healed seamlessly. Nobody could have imagined that the girl was stabbed and shot.

“How is that possible?” Cutter asked.

“She’s not like you or I. Wounds that are normally fatal to us can be survivable for her. All that it takes is a little patience.”

“I still don’t understand how you can trust her not to go feral again.”

Aella produced a knife from her sheath. It was laced with the green paralytic. “I don’t, really. The monster is for the girl alone to hold at bay. Should she prove too weak…”

They started at Pyrik. The girl stirred, deep in sleep.

***

The first time that the beast within took control was when Darius had gotten overwhelmed by those Jaegers. They had a musket to his head, prepared to shoot. A snap judgment was made to save his life. She saw no other way. Control was relinquished to the beast inside and it ripped and tore through those Jaegers like rain through paper. The ease was terrifying. And like a boulder that was gathering momentum, it was hard to stop. She found that her body refused any commands to stay her hands. Another will was working through her body and she realized it was that beast within. After slaughtering the Jaegers it went after Darius. He would have certainly joined the other refuse from her butchering had she not managed to wrangle back control. She tried to approach him, to apologize, that she had only done it to save him, not harm him. However, harm had been done. His armour was scarred with claw marks. A cut above his forehead ran into his right eye like a streak of red paint. Darius had to prop himself up on his sword like a walking staff. She tried to get closer, he staggered back. It wounded her far worse than any bullet or cut. The terror plastered on his face was total and absolute, as though he saw nothing but a beast. The regret was instant and he attempted to apologize but it was too late. Pyrik ran away.

Those feelings of remorse confronted Pyrik once more as she stared at the beast within. It was a brutalist creature, all angles and sharp edges, etched from the shadow itself. Even a slight touch could draw blood. Its existence was ugly, and difficult to face. Pyrik wished that such a part of her never existed. And so pervasive too. She was thankful that Ira succeeded in subduing her beast and now it was drowsy with paralytic. As repulsive as her second nature was, there was a visceral joy in indulging in the violence.

“You foolish girl. You can't contain me. I am inevitable,” it spoke in a drawl, its control fading away from her consciousness. “To stay away from me is to hold your breath. It’s useless. Spare yourself the abstinence and give in to temptation.”

Pyrik remained silent. There was a kernel of truth that she could not deny. A part of her did like causing harm, like flame feeding upon dry tinder. On the other hand though, she was bluntly aware of the consequences that followed in its wake. The cost of ending her murderous rampage was countless lives, including Ira.

So, with a quiet disdain, she watched as the beast within returned to its slumber.

That was when Pyrik jolted awake, falling back into her body. The sensation was sudden and it felt as if she was still dreaming. She tested each limb individually to see if she did regain full control, which moved upon command. Feeling confident now, she sat up. A wave of nausea and sorrow hit her. Ira laid not far from her, with an arm missing and a hole punched through her chest.

“Pyrik?” Aella asked. She was holding a knife at her.

Pyrik glanced at Cutter who was next to Aella, and he stared with cautious apprehension. His wrist was bandaged. At least he was still alive.

“I’m sorry for slashing your wrist,” said Pyrik.

Both Aella and Cutter relaxed.