Arcane Fang

## 9. The Sacrifice The corridor stretched endlessly before them, the faint glow of Aetheric channels along the floor casting ghostly reflections onto the damp stone walls. Each step echoed ominously, swallowed by the suffocating silence that seemed to grow heavier as they advanced. Calwyn's amber eyes darted between the carvings lining the passage-desperate figures intertwined with Aetheric energy, their faces contorted in pain or triumph. The images told a story he wished he couldn't read. As they neared the door at the corridor's end, the hum of Aether grew louder, a resonating pulse that seemed to vibrate through their very bones. The door itself was a masterpiece of Primekin craftsmanship, towering and etched with intricate designs that glowed faintly with rhythmic light. Calwyn ran his fingers along its surface, his heart pounding. "It's still open," Vera muttered, gesturing to the gap between the doors. Her voice was low, taut with urgency. "They're already inside." ### 9.1. The Sacrificial Chamber  They pushed the door wider, the grinding stone reverberating through the air. Beyond, the sacrificial chamber revealed itself in a terrible and awe-inspiring splendor. The room was immense, its sheer size rendered almost incomprehensible by the faint, pulsing glow of Aetheric channels crisscrossing the floor. These glowing veins of energy converged at a massive central dais, their light casting shifting, otherworldly patterns onto the towering walls. Lanterns hung from iron chains attached to the ceiling, their flickering flames struggling against the oppressive darkness, adding a faint amber hue that mixed uneasily with the blue glow. Three raised platforms surrounded the dais, each connected by glowing channels. Shackled figures knelt on each platform, their forms silhouetted against the pulsating light. Above the dais, a vortex of swirling Aether spun lazily, its rhythmic pulse accompanied by a deep, resonating hum that seemed to emanate from the very stone. In the far corners of the chamber, braziers burned low, their embers casting a faint, smoldering red glow. The oppressive heat from the braziers mixed with the cool dampness of the ruins, creating a cloying, metallic scent that clung to the air. Shadows danced on the walls, twisting with the light, as though the chamber itself was alive and watching. It was a place that demanded reverence and fear in equal measure-a shrine to both power and destruction. --- On each platform, shackled Beast-kin prisoners knelt, their forms barely visible through the pulsating blue glow. Their heads were bowed, their bodies tense with exhaustion and despair. Vera's breath caught in her throat as her eyes locked onto the platform to the left. A familiar figure knelt there-frail, battered, but unmistakably alive. Her mother. "No..." Vera's voice cracked, trembling with disbelief and rising fury. She took a step forward, her grip tightening on her spear. Calwyn's hand shot out, gripping her wrist firmly but gently. "Wait," he whispered, his voice low but steady. "We can't just rush in." Vera turned to him, her golden eyes burning with desperation. "That's my mother, Calwyn," she hissed, barely able to contain the growl in her voice. "I can't-" "We will," he interrupted, his amber eyes locking onto hers with a determined calm. "But not yet. If we charge now, they'll kill her before we can get to her. We need a plan." Her body trembled with barely restrained rage, but she held back, her claws flexing. "Fine," she bit out, her voice tight. "But we're running out of time." Calwyn's gaze shifted to the center of the chamber. A group of cultists surrounded the massive dais, their hooded forms illuminated by the swirling vortex of Aether above them. Soldiers patrolled near the platforms, their weapons gleaming faintly in the shifting light. On the central dais, a figure in shimmering robes raised their arms high, chanting words that seemed to reverberate in the air like an oppressive weight. Calwyn's jaw tightened. "We'll take them in waves. I'll distract the soldiers and draw them away from the platforms. You focus on getting to her." Vera shook her head sharply. "No. I'm not leaving you to face them alone." He allowed himself a brief, wry smile. "Hey, I thrive under pressure. Besides, who doesn't want to be the center of attention in a creepy sacrificial chamber?" Vera's tail flicked sharply, her golden eyes narrowing. "This isn't a joke, Cal." His smile faded, replaced by grim resolve. "I know. But if we don't play this smart, none of us are walking out of here. At least this way, your mother has a chance to be free." Vera exhaled heavily, her gaze lingering on the platform where her mother knelt. Her claws flexed against the pummel of the sword, a mix of anguish and determination tightening her expression. "Just... don't do anything too stupid," she said, her voice low but steady. "I won't," Calwyn promised, his grip loosening as he released her wrist. A faint smirk played on his lips. "Let's give them a performance they'll never forget." ### 9.2. Unleashing the Chaos Calwyn slipped into the shadows near the edge of the chamber, his bow in hand and an arrow nocked. His amber eyes scanned the room, settling on a pair of guards patrolling the outer edge of the platforms. He drew the bowstring back, his breath steady as he aimed. The first arrow flew, slicing through the air with a faint whisper before embedding itself in the guard's neck. The man staggered, his hand clawing at the shaft before collapsing to the ground. Calwyn was already drawing his next arrow, shifting his aim to the second guard. The shot landed true, piercing the man's side. He fell against the pillar he was patrolling near, slumping lifelessly to the ground. Calwyn moved to another vantage point, crouching behind a low stone barrier. He loosed a third arrow, this time striking a guard near the central dais. The soldier fell with a strangled cry, clutching at the wound as he crumpled. The sound carried across the chamber, and the reaction was immediate. Shouts echoed through the air as the cultists and soldiers turned, their focus drawn to the source of the attack. Weapons were drawn, and the once-ordered ritual turned into a scramble as they rushed toward Calwyn's position. "Here we go," he muttered to himself, nocking another arrow. The tension in the air crackled as he stood, drawing the bowstring back. His mind raced, calculating how to keep the attention on him long enough for Vera to make her move. --- Vera crouched low, her golden eyes fixed on the platform where her mother knelt, shackled and unmoving. The chaos Calwyn had orchestrated was working; the guards and cultists were scrambling toward his position, their shouts filling the chamber. Her heart pounded, but her steps were deliberate, each one silent as she slipped between the shadows cast by the towering pillars. The glow from the Aetheric channels pulsed rhythmically, illuminating her mother's frail form in stark contrast to the grim surroundings. Vera's hearth tightened, her breath hitching as she saw the weariness in her mother's posture-the way her shoulders slumped and her head hung low. But she was alive. She reached the platform and crouched behind it, scanning the area for any lingering threats. Satisfied the path was clear, she climbed the short steps, her claws silent against the stone. "Mother," she whispered urgently, placing a hand on the shackles. Her mother stirred, her ears twitching slightly, and when she raised her head, their eyes met. "Vera..." Her voice was hoarse, barely audible, but it carried a wave of relief that made Vera's chest tighten. "Quiet," Vera murmured, gripping the hilt of her newly acquired steel longsword. The rusted shackles holding her mother's wrists were thick, but the age and wear on the metal were evident. She slid the blade carefully under the first shackle, angling it for leverage. With a controlled motion, she twisted the blade, forcing the weakened metal to strain. After a tense moment, the shackle gave way with a soft clink. Her mother winced as she moved her wrist, the raw skin underneath bearing the marks of captivity. "Almost there," Vera whispered, her voice steady despite the racing of her heart. She repeated the process with the second shackle, the longsword's edge biting into the corroded metal until it snapped apart. The second shackle followed, and Vera slipped an arm under her mother's shoulder to help her stand. "Can you walk?" she asked, her voice low but urgent. Her mother nodded weakly. "I'll try." Together, they moved down the steps, Vera's ears swiveling constantly to track the sounds of the battle unfolding in the distance. They ducked behind a low barrier at the edge of the platform, hidden from view. Vera gently eased her mother to the ground, her gaze flicking back toward the dais. "Stay here," she whispered. "I'll be back." Her mother's hand weakly gripped her wrist. "Be careful." Vera gave a firm nod, her golden eyes burning with resolve. "I will." She slipped back into the shadows, her grip tightening on the steel longsword. Her mother leaned against the base of a pillar, weak but safe for the moment. ### 9.3. The Turning Tide Vera's focus shifted to the other platforms. Two more Beast-kin captives remained, their forms slumped and shackled. Every second wasted could mean their lives. Keeping low, she moved swiftly and silently, weaving between the glowing Aetheric channels and the shadows cast by the towering pillars. The first platform loomed ahead. A feline Beast-kin woman, her striped fur matted and dulled with grime, sat slumped forward, her breathing shallow but steady. Her lithe frame suggested agility, but the weight of captivity had clearly drained her strength. Vera crept up the steps. The bindings were thicker here, less rusted than her mother's. Using the longsword, she slid the blade under the shackle, angling it carefully before applying pressure. The shackle groaned but didn't give way immediately. "Hold on," she whispered, her tone firm but quiet, as she adjusted her grip. With a sharp twist, the shackle snapped. The feline woman's golden eyes flickered open, locking onto Vera's. Her pupils, sharp slits, dilated slightly as recognition and confusion warred in her gaze. "You're safe," Vera murmured, freeing the second binding with another swift motion. The feline woman rubbed her raw wrists, her movements sluggish. Her tail, striped and elegant even in its weakened state, twitched feebly. "Where...?" she began, her voice hoarse and barely audible. Vera steadied her with a firm hand. "No time to explain. Head to the pillar over there," she said, nodding toward the shadowed corner where her mother was hidden. "She'll help you stay out of sight." The feline woman hesitated for only a moment before nodding, her ears flicking forward as she mustered what little strength she had. Her movements were unsteady, her striped tail swaying weakly behind her as she slipped into the shadows. Vera watched her go, ensuring she reached the pillar safely before turning her focus to the final platform. The last captive was a bear Beast-kin woman, her broad frame slumped against the restraints. Her fur, dark and dense, was matted with streaks of blood, and her shoulders heaved with labored breaths. Even in her weakened state, her muscular build spoke of formidable strength, though now it was barely enough to hold her upright. Vera's jaw tightened as she took in the reinforced bindings. These were newer and thicker than the others, a grim testament to how much effort had been required to subdue her. Adjusting her grip on the longsword, Vera angled the blade with precision and applied pressure. The metal screeched as it gave way, the sound cutting through the chamber like a warning. Vera winced, her ears swiveling toward the sounds of the ongoing fight, but the chaos continued unabated. "Can you move?" Vera asked in a low voice, her golden eyes locking onto the bear Beast-kin's weary gaze. The woman shook her head weakly, her voice gravelly and pained. "Not on my own." Without hesitation, Vera knelt and draped one of the woman's heavy arms over her shoulder. The weight was immense, but she gritted her teeth and adjusted her stance to support her. "Then I'll help," she said firmly, her determination unshaken. Step by step, Vera guided the bear Beast-kin toward the shadows, her muscles burning from the strain. The clamor of the fight echoed through the chamber, Calwyn's arrows and movements keeping the guards' attention diverted. Vera glanced back once, her heart pounding as she saw him surrounded, but she pressed forward. Reaching the pillar where her mother and the feline Beast-kin waited, Vera eased the bear Beast-kin down beside them. Her mother's golden eyes flicked toward the chaos in the chamber, her face suddenly etched with alarm. A sharp gasp escaped her lips, drawing Vera's attention. "What is it?" Vera whispered urgently, following her mother's gaze. Her heart sank as her eyes locked onto the scene across the chamber. Calwyn stood near a toppled column, surrounded. Soldiers pressed in from all sides, their weapons gleaming ominously in the eerie Aetheric glow. His movements were slowing, his twin daggers barely deflecting the relentless flurry of blows. Despite his skill and determination, the odds against him were crushing. Calwyn's defense faltered as a soldier feinted high and slashed low, the blade catching him across the chest. He staggered back, his breath hitching as blood darkened his tunic. "Calwyn!" Vera's voice rang out, sharp and desperate, echoing across the chamber as his knees buckled. The clang of metal and the shouts of soldiers faded into a tense silence, the moment hanging heavy in the Aether-lit air. ### 9.4. The Beast Within The silence that followed Vera's cry was shattered by an unearthly roar. Calwyn's body convulsed, his head snapping back as an agonizing growl tore from his throat. His amber eyes, dulled with exhaustion moments ago, now burned with an otherworldly intensity. The Aetheric glow in the chamber seemed to flicker, drawn toward him like a moth to a flame. The soldiers nearest to him faltered, their steps hesitating as they tightened their grips on their weapons. The metallic clink of shifting armor echoed in the chamber, but none dared move closer. The cultists, once cloaked in an air of unshakable authority, shrank back, their faces contorted in terror. Even the cultist leader, perched on the dais, stumbled over his incantations, his voice quivering as he took an involuntary step back. "What... is that?" a soldier whispered, his voice trembling. His gaze darted between his companions, seeking reassurance, but finding only fear mirrored in their wide-eyed stares. Calwyn's back arched unnaturally, bones cracking and shifting beneath his skin. Muscles rippled, surging with power as his frame expanded. The tunic tore away, revealing a chest that broadened and hardened, his skin darkening to a rough, fur-covered texture. Fingers lengthened into claws, razor-sharp and glinting in the dim light. His jaw elongated, teeth sharpening into fangs that gleamed as he let out another guttural snarl. The transformation wasn't instantaneous; it was raw and violent, each moment imbued with a terrible, primal energy. His limbs stretched, sinews and tendons snapping into place as he grew taller, more imposing. His shadow against the wall warped and twisted, taking on a monstrous shape that dwarfed the surrounding soldiers. The guards hesitated, their eyes wide with terror. One stumbled back, dropping his weapon with a clatter. Another froze in place, his trembling hand clutching his sword as beads of sweat rolled down his face. The cultist leader, still standing on the dais, stared in horror. "What... what is this?" he whispered, his chant faltering. Calwyn's roar grew deeper, resonating through the chamber and sending a palpable wave of fear rippling outward. His claws flexed, the tips digging into the stone floor as he took his first step forward. The movement was both feral and deliberate, a predator sizing up his prey. His transformation complete, Calwyn stood taller than any man, a creature of shadow and fury. His fur, dark and coarse, bristled with energy, and his glowing amber eyes locked onto the soldiers with predatory precision. His chest heaved with each breath, the slash across it now merely a faint scar, healed by the transformation's unnatural power.  The soldiers closest to him broke, their fear overtaking any sense of duty. They turned to run, their screams echoing through the chamber as Calwyn lunged. His claws swept through the air, rending through armor and flesh alike with brutal efficiency. Blood sprayed in arcs, the crimson stark against the cold blue glow of the chamber. The cultists recoiled, their once-commanding presence reduced to trembling figures clutching their robes. "Stop him!" one cried, but no one moved. The terror in their eyes betrayed the truth-they had no hope of stopping this force. From her position by the pillar, Vera watched in stunned silence. Her mother clutched her arm, golden eyes wide with a mix of fear and awe. The beast before them was unrecognizable, yet in the depths of its fury, she could still see the man who had fought so desperately for her and the others. The tide of the battle had turned, but at what cost? --- Calwyn roared, the sound reverberating through the sacrificial chamber like a thunderclap. The guards and cultists scrambled, their fear palpable as they tried to rally against the monstrous figure before them. His glowing eyes burned like twin embers, locking onto the nearest group. Without hesitation, he lunged. The first guard didn't have time to raise his weapon before Calwyn's claws raked across his chest, sending him crumpling to the ground. Another charged at him with a spear, but Calwyn swatted it aside as though it were a twig, his claws tearing through the man's armor with a sickening crunch. Blood spattered the glowing Aetheric channels on the floor, mingling with the eerie light as chaos consumed the chamber. Vera, crouched near the pillar with the other Beast-kins, watched with wide eyes as Calwyn tore through the ranks of their enemies. His movements were terrifyingly precise, his sheer strength unmatched, yet she noticed something else-every so often, his glowing gaze flicked toward her. It wasn't the unbridled rage of a predator, but almost... a concerned look, almost like... he was ensuring that she and the others were safe. The realization sent a shiver through her. Even now, in the throes of his transformation, he hadn't forgotten who he was. The cultists began to regroup, their leader barking orders from the dais. "Surround him! Bring him down!" Their fear was now tempered by desperation, and they moved with renewed coordination. Calwyn snarled, his keen senses picking up the shifting formation. A trio of guards rushed him at once, their blades gleaming in the faint light. He ducked beneath a wild swing, his claws ripping into one guard's leg, sending him crashing to the ground. Another guard stabbed at his flank, the blade scraping against fur and muscle. Calwyn roared in pain but twisted, catching the man by the arm and hurling him into a pillar with bone-shattering force. From the shadows, Vera clenched her fists, her instincts screaming to help. But she knew this fight wasn't hers. Calwyn was holding them back, keeping the tide of enemies from reaching her, her mother, and the other Beast-kin. Her heart tightened as his eyes met hers again, just for a second, before he spun to intercept another attack. Calwyn's rampage continued, but the strain was beginning to show. His strikes were no less ferocious, but his movements were growing less fluid. A spear found its mark, plunging into his side. He staggered, pulling it free with a snarl, blood dripping onto the stone. The cultists pressed the advantage, their leader chanting a guttural incantation as the remaining guards encircled him. Vera bit her lip, her claws digging into her palms as she watched him falter. He was outnumbered, outmatched by sheer volume. Yet, even as his wounds mounted, Calwyn's gaze flickered toward her one last time. It wasn't fear she saw in his glowing eyes-it was determination, a silent promise that he wouldn't let anything happen to them. The realization hit her like a blow. He wasn't just fighting for himself-he was fighting for them. And no matter the cost, he would see it through. ### 9.5. The Final Push Vera's heart pounded as she watched Calwyn battle the encroaching guards and cultists, his werewolf form a whirlwind of claws and fury. Her mother clutched her arm tightly, worry etched into her tired face. The Beast-kin captives huddled close, their gazes darting between the chaos and Vera. Her golden eyes scanned their surroundings, desperate for something-anything-that could tip the scales. Then, her gaze landed on Calwyn's bow and arrows, discarded near the pillar where she was standing. The sight sparked an idea, reckless but necessary. She gently pulled her mother's hand away. "Stay here," she whispered firmly. "I'll end this." Without waiting for a response, Vera snatched the bow and arrows, her claws moving deftly to nock an arrow onto the string. The weapon was heavier than she anticipated, but she adjusted her grip, the tension in her arms igniting a familiar determination. Her focus snapped to the dais, where the chief cultist loomed above the fray. His voice rose in a guttural chant, the Aetheric energy in the room coalescing around him. The glow from the Aetheric channels grew brighter, pulsing with his incantation. Whatever spell he was weaving, it couldn't be allowed to finish. Vera moved with practiced stealth, keeping low as she lined up her shot. Her sharp eyes zeroed in on the cultist, his robes shimmering unnaturally as he raised a staff high above his head. "Not today," Vera muttered, her voice cold as steel. The bowstring creaked as she drew it back, her muscles straining against the unfamiliar weapon. She exhaled slowly, her focus narrowing to a single point. Then, she released. The arrow sliced through the air with lethal precision. The cultist's chant faltered as his eyes widened in shock. A heartbeat later, the arrow struck him square between the eyes. The force sent him toppling backward, his staff clattering to the floor as his lifeless body slumped onto the dais. But in the cultist's final moments, his hands flared with Aetheric energy, the spell unfinished but unleashed. A wave of raw power erupted from his body, radiating outward. Vera's eyes widened as the energy swept through the chamber, cracking stone and shattering pillars. The Aetheric channels pulsed erratically, the glow flashing brighter before dimming to near-darkness. The blast threw Vera backward, her body slamming against the base of the pillar. Pain flared in her side, but she gritted her teeth, forcing herself to rise. Her vision blurred as she glanced toward the dais, the remains of the cultist's body now surrounded by fractured stone and fading light. Vera's ears rang, but she didn't need to hear to know the chaos wasn't over. --- The air in the chamber was thick with dust and the acrid tang of burnt Aether. Shattered stone littered the floor, and the once-bright glow of the Aetheric channels flickered weakly, like a dying heartbeat. Vera pushed herself to her feet, her chest heaving as she steadied her grip on the steel longsword. The weapon felt solid and balanced in her hands, a cold promise of what was to come. Her golden eyes locked onto the cultists and soldiers still standing, their hesitation giving way to grim resolve as they regrouped. They weren't retreating. If anything, they were more determined now, like cornered beasts fighting for survival. Across the chamber, Calwyn stood amidst a circle of bodies, his werewolf form a living nightmare. His jet-black fur was matted with blood-both his and his enemies'. His claws gleamed in the dim light, and his chest heaved with ragged breaths. But his amber eyes, now blazing with feral intensity, found Vera through the chaos. For a brief moment, their gazes met, and she saw it: not just the raw power of the beast he'd become, but the unwavering determination of the man she knew. Without a word, Vera charged into the fray. Her sword sang as she swung it, catching a soldier mid-lunge. The blade bit deep into his side, and he crumpled with a choked cry. Vera didn't pause. She moved with fluid precision, her attacks a deadly dance honed by years of survival. Another soldier came at her, his axe raised high. She sidestepped the blow, the steel blade arcing in a counterstrike that cleaved through his neck. Beside her, Calwyn was a whirlwind of claws and fury. He lunged at a group of cultists, his massive frame moving with terrifying speed. One fell instantly, his chest raked open by claws sharper than any blade. Another tried to run, but Calwyn was on him in two strides, his jaws closing around the man's shoulder with a sickening crunch. The remaining cultists hesitated, their fear palpable, but Calwyn's snarl left no room for mercy. A soldier broke through the chaos, his sword aimed for Vera's back. Calwyn saw him, his instincts screaming to act. With a ground-shaking leap, he was there, claws tearing the weapon from the soldier's hands before raking across his chest. The man fell with a gurgled scream, and Calwyn turned back to Vera, ensuring she was unharmed. Vera nodded her thanks, her lips quirking in a grim smile. "I can handle myself," she muttered, even as she lunged forward, her blade catching another soldier mid-step. The pair moved like two halves of a storm-Calwyn's raw, brutal power complementing Vera's calculated precision. Where he overwhelmed, she outmaneuvered. Where she faltered, he shielded her. Together, they carved through the remaining enemies, their movements synchronized by an unspoken bond forged in fire and blood. The last soldier stood trembling, his sword clutched tightly in shaking hands. His gaze darted between the towering werewolf and the bloodied wolf-kin, desperation etched into every line of his face. With a roar that was more fear than fury, he charged. Calwyn met him head-on. One clawed hand swatted the sword aside, the other closing around the soldier's throat. The man struggled, his feet kicking helplessly against the ground, but Calwyn's grip was unyielding. With a final growl, he hurled the soldier into the wall, where he crumpled and lay still. Silence fell over the chamber. Vera stood, her chest heaving, her sword dripping with blood. Calwyn remained in his werewolf form, his amber eyes scanning the room for any remaining threats. But there were none. The chamber was theirs. She approached him cautiously, her gaze steady despite the pounding of her heart. "It's over," she said softly. Calwyn turned to her, his massive frame still radiating an animalistic tension. For a moment, she thought he might not recognize her. But then his shoulders relaxed, and a low, rumbling exhale escaped him. He stepped back, the beast in him retreating, though not entirely gone. Vera lowered her sword, her eyes never leaving him. "You did good," she said, her voice steady despite the weight of the moment. Calwyn's gaze flicked to the freed Beast-kin huddled behind the pillar, then back to Vera. Slowly, he nodded. Together, they stood amidst the carnage, their battered forms illuminated by the faint, flickering glow of the Aetheric channels. The battle was won, but the cost lingered in the air like the aftermath of a storm. They were alive. For now, that was enough. ### 9.6. Aftermath and Goodbyes The chamber was quiet now, save for the faint crackle of dying torches and the muffled groans of the wounded. The freed Beast-kin began to emerge from the shadows of the pillars, their movements tentative and halting. The feline woman, her striped fur matted but regal, stepped cautiously forward, her golden eyes flicking between the aftermath of the battle and the towering werewolf form at its center. Her tail twitched nervously, and her ears pressed flat against her head, every line of her body poised to flee if necessary. The bear Beast-kin woman followed, her broad shoulders hunched under the weight of her injuries. Her dark fur bristled slightly, her steps heavy and shaking as she was struggling to move. She could only move thans to Vera's mother support. Her round, expressive eyes carried equal parts awe and apprehension as they darted between Vera and the monstrous figure beside her. Even Vera's mother hesitated, her golden eyes locked on Calwyn's imposing form. Her lips parted slightly, and for a moment, her usual composure faltered. Gratitude mingled with a deep-seated wariness in her expression. Vera sheathed her longsword and stepped toward Calwyn, her trembling hands brushing against her side as she steadied herself. "It's alright," she said softly, her voice breaking the stillness. She looked at the others, her gaze firm yet gentle. "He's with us." Her words hung in the air, and while they seemed to steady the Beast-kin, uncertainty still lingered in their eyes. The feline woman's tail swayed cautiously, and the bear Beast-kin shifted her weight as if ready to retreat. Vera's mother took a hesitant step closer, her gaze searching Vera's face for reassurance. Before anyone could respond, Calwyn's massive frame lurched forward. A deep, guttural growl rumbled from his chest, and his claws dug into the ground as his body convulsed violently. The Beast-kin froze, their fear surging anew, but Vera moved without hesitation, rushing to his side. "Calwyn!" she cried, her hands hovering near him, unsure of how to help. The transformation began. His fur rippled and shrank, receding in patches to reveal pale, bloodied skin beneath. His snarls twisted into guttural cries of pain, each sound ripping through the air like a physical blow. Limbs contorted and cracked, claws retracting into trembling fingers as his massive hands reverted to their human form. His elongated snout shrank back into the familiar contours of his face, now lined with agony. Each movement seemed to tear at him from the inside, his body resisting the change even as it succumbed. When it was over, he collapsed to his knees, his chest heaving. His human form was pale and frail, his skin slick with sweat and smeared with blood. The remnants of his clothes hung in tatters from his battered frame, leaving him almost entirely exposed. A blush spread across Vera's cheeks, mirrored by the other Beast-kin women, but the embarrassment was fleeting. His wounds were too severe to allow for such distractions-deep gashes crisscrossed his torso, and blood pooled beneath him. --- "Cal..." Vera whispered, her voice trembling as she crouched beside him. She gently cradled his head with one hand, brushing his sweat-matted hair from his face. His amber eyes fluttered open, glassy and unfocused, but the faintest flicker of recognition crossed them. Vera's throat tightened as her gaze swept over his battered body, the deep gashes and crimson streaks painting a grim picture. She glanced toward her mother and the other Beast-kin. "Mother, the backpack," she called, her voice firm despite the ache in her chest. "Bring it here." Her mother hesitated for only a moment before nodding, moving quickly to retrieve the pack. At the same time, the feline Beast-kin, now standing on her own, stepped forward with surprising determination. "Let me help," the feline said softly, her voice hoarse but steady. Together, they worked swiftly. Vera rummaged through the backpack brought by her mother, pulling out the flask of alcohol and the bundle of bandages. She handed the bandages to the feline, who knelt beside her, unrolling them with nimble hands in preparation. "This will sting," Vera muttered, her golden eyes flicking briefly to Calwyn's face. She uncorked the flask, her hand steady despite the tightness in her chest. Tilting the flask, she poured the sharp-smelling alcohol directly onto the deepest gash across his chest. Calwyn's body tensed, a ragged groan escaping his lips as his head lolled back. Vera's jaw clenched, and her grip on the flask tightened. "Hold on," she whispered, her voice soft but firm. "Just hold on." The feline Beast-kin immediately pressed a clean bandage onto the wound, absorbing the blood and alcohol as Vera moved to another gash. Her mother handed her another strip of cloth, her own hands shaking as she hovered close by, her golden eyes filled with concern. Vera continued methodically, pouring the alcohol into each wound and working quickly to clean and bind them. The sharp tang of blood and spirits filled the air, and each hiss of pain from Calwyn sent a pang through her chest, but she didn't falter. Finally, the wounds were cleaned and dressed, the makeshift bandages holding firm. Vera sat back on her heels, wiping her blood-streaked hands on her trousers. Her gaze lingered on Calwyn's pale face, his breath shallow but steady. "You're stronger than this," she murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair from his forehead. Her voice trembled, but her resolve didn't waver. "You're not done yet, Cal. Not yet." --- I blinked slowly, the edges of my vision hazy and dark. The pain was everywhere-burning, sharp, and relentless-but it was distant now, muted by the sheer weight of exhaustion. Above me, Vera's face hovered, her golden eyes filled with worry and something I couldn't quite name. I tried to speak, but my throat was dry, my voice barely a whisper. "You're... okay?" She nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks as she stroked my hair. "I'm fine. You... you saved us." I smiled faintly, though it felt like my lips could barely move. "Good. That's... good." The world tilted, or maybe I did. Everything was fading, the sounds around me muffled, as though I was sinking into water. I reached up, my hand trembling as I brushed her cheek. Her skin was warm, soft, and for a fleeting moment, it grounded me. "Vera..." My voice was weaker now, each word an effort. "You'll... be okay. I know you will." "Stop talking like that," she said, her voice breaking. "You're going to be fine, Cal. You have to be." I wanted to believe her, but the darkness was so inviting. My hand fell away from her face, too heavy to hold up any longer. Her voice called to me, desperate, but it was drowned out by the silence that wrapped around me like a blanket. And then there was nothing.