The stone in the town square was painted with streaks of blood. The stench of iron hung heavy, mingling with the reek of dirt and sweat. Each lash had cracked the air with a sound that still echoed in the villagers’ ears, sharp as splintering wood. The mix of blood and soil clung to their throats, bitter on the tongue, enough to make stomachs turn.

  They knew Lina bled for them, to buy a moment’s reprieve from the endless extortion that ground them down. Vierna saw it in their eyes: grief twisting with rage and desperation. Though she and Lina had only just arrived, it seemed the villagers at least care enough to show those kind of expression. Either it was simply humanity or genuine care she didn’t know for sure. She herself could not hold back her tears.

  When Korrn finally stopped his whipping, she rushed forward. Lina lay topless, her chest still moving, proof she still lived. Vierna snatched up her discarded clothes and dropped to her knees.

  She tried to cover Lina’s body, but froze. The blood pouring from her back was too much, soaking her hands, slick and hot. She didn’t know what to do. At last she tied the sleeves around Lina’s neck, letting the fabric fall forward so her bare chest was hidden from the crowd.

  Her fingers shook as they brushed against the endless flow, sticky and warm like fresh paint spilling over stone. She conjured her storage rune, pulled out a cloth, and dampened it with her own magic before pressing it to the wound. The smell of the fabric and blood mixed, acrid in her nose.

  Twenty lashes. She remembered every one of them—the crack in the air, the snap of the whip as it tore skin, the sound of droplets splattering on stone. She recalled Korrn’s every movement as he desecrated Lina’s body.

  Vierna smeared Lina’s blood across her own face. It felt like it carved into her skin, but she didn’t care. It was a brand, a mark of the atrocity committed against the kindest girl she knew. Some people had to go, and those two—if they could even be called people—would perish by her hand.

  I SWEAR I WILL FUCKING KILL THEM BOTH!. The word pounded in her skull as she glared at Korrn without blinking.

  Then Lina’s arm shifted, weakly gripping her hand. In that moment, Vierna understood what Lina wanted. And so not to disgraced Lina’s wish she hold back.

  “That’s what you... fucking get,” Korrn panted fervently, out of breath like a butcher wheezing over the carcass he’d hacked apart.

  He looked at all the villagers gathered around the square. The elf’s face was frozen in shock and disbelief. “And since all of you are complicit, next month’s pay is going to be—”

  “Herr Korrn, wait a minute.” Mirelle’s voice cut him short.

  “What the fuck, bitch, you know I hate—” Korrn stopped as Mirelle leaned in and whispered something.

  Vierna watched his pig-like eyes sweep over the square, taking in the villagers’ clenched jaws and trembling fists. His face twisted, ugly as ever, yet softening with sudden agreement.

  Another venom, Vierna thought.

  Korrn turned back to the crowd. “Ehem... Look, I am not unreasonable. I realize this slip-up was caused by my stupid staff.” He glanced at Vierna and Lina as though they were trash. “And so, I will punish my staff instead. They will stay here and work off your debts, because I know you wouldn’t have done something this foolish if my staff weren’t complete morons. There will be no increase next month.”

  He walked toward the elven chief. “You see, elf? A reasonable judgment. I place blame where it belongs, not arbitrarily.”

  The elven chief said nothing, his eyes fixed on the two girls lying broken before him.

  “Guard, give her the keys. Crysta, you will pay me everything the villagers didn’t give me. You want to ease their burden? Now it belongs to you entirely.”

  “...”

  “I will also make sure that you and Aline spend your whole miserable life here, in the place you love so much. Enjoy living among subhumans.”

  Vierna didn’t answer Korrn; it took everything in her not to use her magic against him.”

  “Do you hear me!?”

  “I do,” Vierna replied calmly. The unnatural calm in her voice like a storm being bottled inside a glass was enough to make him flinch and step back. He knew that even a cornered rat would fight to the death if it had to—so he chose not to press further.

  Vierna’s eyes however didn’t moved an inch away from Lina’s body. It didn’t blink at all, just waiting for something that she herself didn’t know what.

  Korrn turned to his militia and Mirelle. “Let’s go. I’ve had enough of this place.”

  The group left without ceremony, leaving the villagers dumbfounded.

  “SOMEONE HELP THE DAMN GIRL ALREADY!” the elven chief shouted. His words snapped the villagers from their shock. They rushed forward, but as they approached Lina, they found Vierna crouched over her, shielding her like she just saw another threat. Her eyes were wild with rage and fury, so lost in it that she didn’t realize they meant no harm.

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  “Calm down, girl,” the elf said. His voice was low and steady, carrying a soothing weight—as if a touch of magic lingered within it, easing Vierna’s bloodlust. “We are going to help her, not hurt her.”

  The voice snapped Vierna back to reality. It pained her to admit it, but this arrangement worked in her favor. At least some of the villagers now saw them in a better light, and being left behind was exactly what she had wished. Yet the cost was too high. Watching Lina disgraced and wounded tore at her heart.

  But she had to carry on—make the best of it and continue the mission. The only flicker of solace she found was that Lina was not in her real body. If it had been Lina herself, with her long silver hair and scarred beauty, suffering that humiliation, no amount of restraint could have quelled her rage.

  Vierna shook her head. “Of course, Chief. I don’t know what came over me. Forgive me.”

  The chief nodded “Bring her to the hall.”

  The villagers moved quickly, as though tending to the wounded was second nature to them. They carried Lina into the same hall Korrn had once used to rest while bleeding them dry with taxes. The Chief use telekinetic magic to brush aside the clatter that’s left in the table. The other villagers quickly wipe the table using soap and dry it using was cloth and wind magic so that Lina’s wound won’t get infected.

  “Get me some spirits!” a female beastkin shouted to a villager.

  They brought a bottle, and a murmur rose among the crowd. A younger elf stepped forward. “Chief, this is our last spirits. Are we sure we should give it to this girl?”

  “She tried to defend us—you all saw it. And now you want to save a bottle of spirits?” the chief snapped.

  “Of course not, Elder. Forgive me,” the young elf said quickly.

  They boiled the cloth in spirits, then used it to wash Lina’s bloodied back. The smell and fumes of the spirits was strong enough that Vierna felt it lingers on her throat.

  “AHHHH!” Lina jolted awake from the combined sting and smell. Her body arched, eyes wide but unfocused, breath coming in ragged gasps.

  “Where—? What—?” Her voice cracked, words tumbling out broken and confused. “It hurts… it hurts…”

  Vierna quickly caught her hand, steadying her. “Ssssh, Aline, it’s all right. It’s all right.” She gripped it tightly, as if letting go would let Lina slip away.

  Lina’s gaze darted around, glassy and frantic, until it landed on the curved, orange-tinged needle with string attached. Recognition flickered through the haze, then terror sharpened her features.

  Her head shook frantically. “Vierna… no… no… VIERNA HELP ME! DON’T LET THEM HURT ME!” Her voice cracked, her disguise forgotten. Some of the villagers exchanged confused glances, but no one dared speak; saving her life came first.

  “Girl, we won’t hurt you. Trust us and let us help you.” The elven chief said, his voice edged with enchantment — a low, steady weave meant to calm. For a heartbeat it touched her, then Lina’s panic flared so bright it blew the charm apart; she thrashed, screaming, beyond the reach of his magic.

  “No! Vierna, I’m afraid! Please, tell them to stop! I don’t want this—please, Vierna, please!”

  She tried to rise from the table, but four villagers pinned her arms and legs. Seeing the mighty Lina reduced to a terrified girl shattered Vierna’s heart into a thousand shards.

  “Don’t you have a healer or something?” Vierna demanded.

  “There are no human healers here,” the elven chief explained calmly. “If we tried to use elven or beastkin magic on her, it could cause a complication we cannot risk. It has to be done this way, girl!”

  Vierna looked at Lina. Her eyes glistened with innocence and hope, widening like a frightened puppy begging not to be struck again. Even through the haze, Lina’s gaze found her. Recognition cut through the terror — a proof of love so deep it reached her even in delirium.

  Vierna closed her eyes and grinded her teeth “Okay, do it.”

  “No… Vierna… why? WHY DID YOU LET THEM HURT ME?” Lina cried as a villager forced her to drink the spirit and put a gag into her mouth. She tried to spit it out, but the furry arms of the beastkin holding it were too strong. They sat Lina upright, pinning her shoulders. Vierna held her hand—both in affection and restraint—so she wouldn’t be able to break free.

  “Take a deep breath, girl,” the female beastkin said. The red-hot curved needle pierced Lina’s tender skin, dragging the thread through and pulling her gaping wounds together.

  “HMPHHHH!” Lina’s muffled scream tore through the gag. Her wide, tear-filled eyes locked onto Vierna’s, silently begging to be freed from the pain. Vierna met her gaze with the same intensity. She felt Lina straining, trying to pull her hand away, but she refused to let go. Even if it was only a grip, she poured all her strength into it, not allowing Lina to loosen it even slightly.

  The beastkin did not falter. Her movements were deliberate, careful, and fast. Her eyes never flinched. Vierna noticed then—she had shaved all the fur from her arm, leaving the skin bare like a human’s. It had been hidden before under the long sleeve of torn fabric. Her eyes glowed with a bluish hue; it seemed she was using magic during the surgery.

  “Can we make her faint again?” Vierna asked.

  “No, girl. We can’t risk forcing her under with magic. Her mind’s already in turmoil—you’ve seen it. If we tamper with her consciousness now, it could break her completely.”

  It went on for a while. Lina writhed and twisted under their grip, her breath coming in sharp, panicked bursts. Even with the villagers holding her down, she kept slipping free in small jerks of movement—twitches of pain she couldn’t suppress. The female beastkin didn’t slow. Her hands stayed steady, methodical, moving from wound to wound.

  By the nineteenth, Vierna felt her stomach tighten.

  The room’s air had shifted. The villagers’ arms trembled from strain. Vierna’s nails dug into her own palm as she watched—hating every second, hating that she couldn’t help, hating that this was the only way.

  The healer finally paused, lifting her hand for a breath, letting the weight of what had already been done settle thick in the room.

  “Girl, there’s a barb inside this last wound. I need to get it out before I stitch you back up, okay?”

  “HMPPHHH! HMPPHHHH!” Lina’s muffled cries broke out as she looked at Vierna, begging relentlessly for the treatment to stop. Her eyes, like onyx drowned in tears, pleaded for Vierna’s help.

  “It’s okay, Aline. Please hold on.”

  She shook her head desperately.

  The beastkin behind her conjured a pair of pincers, dipped them into the spirit, and steadied her arm.

  “Deep breath, girl. This is going to hurt,” she said as she drove the pincer into the wound. Her eyes glowed brighter now, deep blue like the ocean. She seemed to be enhancing her vision to locate the barb.

  It went on for a few minutes. When the claw finally gripped the barb and wrenched it free, Lina’s body arched in one last convulsion. The pain was sharper, deeper than all nineteen lashes combined. That was the breaking point—her strength gave out, and she slumped into unconsciousness.