Silver for MonstersThe Witcher 3

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The next morning, when I went to the music room, Elise was waiting by the doors again. "Josef reported that your Medium is ready," she said in lieu of a greeting.

"Really? That fast?" I fought to keep the caustic tone out of my voice.

"As I've told you, Josef is one of the best Tinkers around," Elise replied easily. "You shouldn't be surprised at his ability to craft something within such a short span of time."

I stilled my tongue. Elise looked like she had absolute faith in Josef, whether for good or bad. If I spoke out against him, I would only get brushed aside.

Elise had already trailed away into the distance when a gust from an open window blasted me in the face. I hobbled along with my crutches, struggling to catch up. Although I've already been here for a full month, everyone still couldn't help but cast side glances at me as I walked by. Or more specifically, at my leg. Thank goodness I hadn't been assigned any maidservants—Elise had taught me how to dress and wash myself with the aid of magic.

Once we were admitted into the Tinkers' workshop, Josef came bounding towards us. The wide grin plastered onto his face betrayed nothing of last night's incident. His limpid brown eyes were merry, and his muscles were completely relaxed, no subtle tension laced in them. I didn't let my guard down. One of the first rules to escaping trouble was to always be ready, and to always observe, so that you could notice the signs when someone was about to lash out.

"Here is the lady's Medium." Josef held out a long and slender bundle, wrapped in coarse, leathery fabric. I took it and undid the wrappings. It fell away to reveal a flute. But not just any flute.

My flute.

There were new engravings along the wood, and it looked like it had been polished and smoothened out. However, I could still recognise the comforting crookedness of the homemade affair, the scent of the unprofessional hands that had crafted it caressing my skin. I turned the flute around to inspect all of its angles, running my fingers both lightly and desperately over it at the same time. No, it couldn't be—but it was.

My flute had been salvaged, and it was here. My beloved flute was here. For the first time in a long time, I smiled.

The smile died out when I saw the dangerous glint in Josef's eyes. "How did you find this?" I asked.

"Find? Oh no, milady, a second hand would never do for you." I didn't fail to detect the trace of malevolence in his voice. "I made it myself, and I'm sure that you'll take very good care of it. After all, you are a brilliant Magus." He smiled a wolf's smile. Witchling. The sting of his insult last night surged throughout me, making me grit my teeth in frustration. He wouldn't act in such a bold manner if he wasn't sure that Elise trusted him wholly.

"I will. Thank you, Josef." I clutched my flute—now imbued with the power of a Medium—to my chest.

"The pleasure is mine." His eyes were hard, out of place with his easy-going smile. But I got the warning: Stay out of everything, don't speak if you know what's good for you.

"We'll have to get back to our lessons now," Elise said, oblivious to the understated exchange of poison between Josef and I. "Good day, Josef."

"And to you." Josef gave us a quick bow before wheeling on his heel and returning to his work. Meanwhile, I followed Elise back to the music room in a daze, just aware of what the returning of my flute meant.

It was a message from Josef: I'm keeping my eye on you.

I barely noticed when Elise stopped. But this wasn't the music room. I blinked, taking in the vaulted ceiling and its detailed frescoes. The new room was in a circular shape; towering pillars resembling formidable guardians lined the edge. There were plenty of windows, allowing sunlight to stream into the room. No need for steinliohts here. On the ground, starting from the centre of the room, and extending its reach towards every corner, was a star with multiple points. It was painted in white across the obsidian floor, making it stand out starkly, like a palette of comets racing across the night.

A bang sounded behind me, and I jumped. I turned around to see that Elise had closed the double doors behind us; the echoes bounced throughout the crevices. I pushed down an involuntary shiver, distracting myself by speaking out loud: "What is this place?"

Elise didn't answer, starting to walk along the points of the star, forming a circle. She was singing—a slow, haunting tune that glorified ancient times, when humans had first settled in these lands, drawing magic from the earth and shaping it into something friendly, using it to fend off the beasts that roamed the area. It sang of mountains, of stars and of winds, of rocks and dust, unyielding, steadfast, always there when empires fell and rose.

Then it took a darker turn. The beats grew faster, faster, and the mood spiralled downhill with all its poignancy. The star began to spark, then glow—like Nerillium burning in the northern sky. I staggered backwards, careful to not touch any part of the star, watching as mists started to smog before my vision. The atmosphere was colder, denser. Only Elise's voice kept me anchored to the world. I hugged my flute to my chest, as though it could protect me against whatever sorcery that was being conjured.

Slowly, the mists began to take shape. To my horror, I recognised what they were forming.

Monsters.

It was a pack of lycanthropes. Their maws were frothing up. Their scarred, hollow eyes were red with pure, primal hatred. All of the front legs were sizeably larger than the hind, thick and stocky trunks, able to crush almost anything in their grip. Their coats came in different assortments of colour—black, brown and grey—but they all served a similar purpose: to intimidate and petrify. It definitely was working on me. My muscles were frozen. The pack, on the other hand, seemed excited, practically revelling in my fear.

"Use your Medium. Defend yourself," was all Elise said before the room faded away.

I stood in a forest, dried leaves crunching beneath my feet. It was a maze of endless trees, only serving to addle my already bewildered mind even further. Unfortunately, the lycanthropes hadn't disappeared. They were right in front of me, snarling and howling and snapping their jaws.

When Elise had said that learning magic was do or die, I didn't imagine that she would throw me to the wolves. Literally.

The pack charged at me.

I couldn't even react. They were all upon me in milliseconds, knocking me onto the ground, breathless. As I stared at the leader—the largest one of them all, with magnificent red fur and golden, merciless eyes—I knew that I was going to die. Painfully and without dignity.

He shook his shaggy great mane, dribbling saliva all over my face, before closing his wicked teeth around my arm.

A wracked scream escaped from my lips. A fresh wave of pain came when another lycanthrope buried his jaws into my leg. I thrashed about, only to have more lycanthropes pounce on me. We were a tangle of hair and fangs and limbs. Agony flared from my left arm; I barely managed to crane my head to see what damage had been done. But my arm was gone. In its place was a ripped, pitiful stump, oozing bright blood. Then I saw it lying a distance away from me, detached from the rest of my body.

Black spots danced before my eyes. I couldn't feel anything. They were clawing everywhere. They shredded my dress away, dug into my skin. Several of them ripped out chunks of flesh. I couldn't even move without inducing another beast to tighten its grip over me.

I was being eaten alive.

I lost the ability to sob. All I did was prayed fervently in my head, hoping that I would find peace in the afterlife, that the Saints would be kind enough to allow me into their Heavenly dwelling. I didn't know if I had done any good in my life, but I certainly didn't do much bad.

At least, I hoped that I didn't do much bad.

The leader was still atop me, shredding my breasts apart. I didn't know how I was still breathing. I had forgotten how true pain felt like—this was a mere circle of agony, one that didn't have a beginning or an end. No matter how I attempted to push my way out, it kept drawing me back in. Eventually, I stopped fighting, letting the agony engulf me, surrendering to its might.

Then a cool breeze brushed over my face, and the weight upon me was gone.

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