“Zeddicus, is it done?” A disembodied voice called out—it was muffled and hard to hear. It was as if the voice had to pass through water.

Opening my eyes, I was met with sharp pain. Liquid rushed into my eyes, forcing me to shut them closed instinctively. Taking a deep breath, I slowly opened my eyes once again. As my eyelids parted, a thin film under my eyelids remained in place, keeping my eyes unexposed and protected from the liquid.

Scared, I tremble—tail in between my legs, comforting me while I hugged it. My wings slightly bent around me—an attempt to embrace myself. Over my ribs, the wings left my gills exposed; they slightly vibrated as my chest rose and fell while the strange green fluorescent liquid entered my body. I couldn’t help but twist my face in displeasure—a salty and bitter taste filled my senses; it was revolting!

“Well, the quantum tunneling needs to continue in the carbonic acid to maintain the acid-base homeostasis while the aqueous solution continues to flush out excess mutagens and decayed crystalized mana. Then…”

“…”

Sighing, he corrects himself. “No, give it 5 hours.”

“Excellent! Are there any concerns for complications?”

“No. The subject is relatively safe from any further complications.”

The disembodied voice seemed to just stare for a while. Then he replied saying, “that is good news. We should celebrate; this marks our first full success with phase one.” Not waiting for a response from him, the voice continues, “once this is done, deliver it to Orlando for the final step. Orlando needs to conduct the Washing since it still has free will.”

I stopped breathing. It wasn’t a conscious decision; I was just incapable of moving a single muscle. The implications of what that disembodied voice said hit me so hard that I just completely froze. Still has free will? No. They couldn’t mean that. Removing free will. No… no-no.

As my muscles slowly began unfreezing, I took short and rapid breaths. The world was spinning while the words still has free will continued to echo in my mind. My head started bobbing up and down in the liquid as my mind became confused, less coherent.

I resisted the urge to close my eyes; I needed to hear what they were saying. “Thanks for the advice, Zeddicus. I’ll let the strategy team know what you said. It sounds like that would be an excellent first mission for this subject. It will make the destabilization of the magical beast region quicker.”

The weight of my eyes became too much to bear. I thought I’d rest my eyes for a little bit; then, I blacked out.

…

Flashing my eyes open, I was awoken to the sound of my horns grating against the rocky ground. I was being dragged across the floor by a leash. When I tried to move my legs, I felt my whole body ache.

With a thud, I suddenly felt a sharp pain on the side of my ribs. I couldn’t help but whimper from the rock that stabbed my sensitive gills. Seeing another sharp rock in my path, I quickly moved my wings back to their usual resting positions—protectively hugging my ribs. In a second, my soft and flowing fur hardened like metal as the rock made impact. I flinched, but I was met with a moment of relief a second later. I successfully defended against the rock’s attack and was spared from more pain.

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Sliding by a wooden door, I noticed something strange. It’s completely silent. Not a single creature is making noise. Every day, for years, there were constant cries of pain, of anguish—pain caused by being dissected alive, watching as the humans surgically removed their insides. Or it was being forced to endure strange magic that enters the body and destroys you from the inside out. The magic was eating away at every cell in your body like rot or decay. Never has there been a time when silence blanketed the lab.

Looking down the hall, I was met with total dread. The sense of knowing the inevitable arrival of an ever-looming threat—it is as if my head was placed under a guillotine, slowly counting the seconds as I await the executioner. Down the hallway was a massive wolf. Standing on her four paws, she towered over the human who continued to drag me. But what was dreadful was the look in her eyes. They were dead. I could feel my stomach clench as the horror twisted in my gut. It was hard to breathe, and my body was trembling. The wolf was like a puppet; strings controlled her every movement and thought.

In a flash, I remembered the conversation I overheard. They took away her free will! She was forced to become a puppet, resigned to obey the master’s command, and not even granted freedom to think. That’s what they will do to me! No-no-no. I must escape; I can’t become a puppet; I don’t want to be forced to follow a master; what will they force me to do? They want to use me as a tool for violence; a means to destabilize the homes of fellow magical beasts; like the obedient pet that I am, I will kill, slaughter, torture; adults, elderly, children—the masters will command me, and I will act; No! I won’t be used to commit such atrocities; I must escape!

I tried standing, my legs shaking as I lifted the weight of all my emotions—dread, fear, anxiety, and pain. Like a mountain on my back, the weight nearly caused my legs to buckle. Until finally, with a yank of the leash, I fell. The weight of my future kept me pinned to the floor as I was dragged across the floor, slowly approaching the certainty of what is to come from inaction—like a guillotine being raised above my exposed neck, centimeter by centimeter, it is raised. The guillotine waits for the moment where gravity takes hold—the weight of my past slicing through the neck.

Every fall, the weight I carry doubles, triples, quadruples. It is unbearable! It mercilessly crushes me—it waits for me to rise, gain hope, only to target my weak spot and crushes my attempt. Should I give up? Surrender to my inevitable fate—a tool. This question plagues my mind. But then flashes of all the emotions I desperately tried to dissociate from crossed my mind—suppressed feelings of the past—loneliness, torture, abuse. I will never allow another to be subject to such violence! And with that thought, I was standing, limping behind the human guiding me by the leash.

Ready to make my attempt, I faced the opposite direction and pulled. I pulled and pulled as my life depended on it, and so did the lives of countless other creatures. The claws on my paws attempted to dig into the ground. The wings on my back stretched in front of me with an extended claw, trying to dig into the ground and pull myself away from the man. Only for all my claws to be stopped by a protective layer of mana—a vile effect of the collar adorned around my neck—a status of incarceration. The sheer force I was exuding caused the barrier to give off a faint white glow.

Then, suddenly, there was no resistance; the man fell backward and released my leash. It worked! Now with an opportunity for escape in front of me, I sprinted for it. I ran; a feeling of wildness and freedom washed over me, soothing the many scars on my mind. Each paw thuds on the floor, moving in a rhythmic pattern as I experience a feeling I haven’t felt in years. Only for the dread to come crashing down on me once more, the weight nearly causing me to fall.

In front of me stood the wolf. I saw it in her eyes, rage. Inexplicable anger that one can only feel once everything is lost. But I knew, I knew it was fake. It was an emotion forced onto her by the master. Like the puppet she is, the strings guided her every movement, her every thought.

I readied myself for the fight. My tail straight out, wings extended, eyes watching for the slightest twitch of the muscle. The wolf towered over me, more than four times my size. It was like my father’s stories—David and Goliath, a dwarf versus a giant.