Ratcatcher rolled in cold waters, sailing through the ocean of eternal darkness. She could not see a thing. Darkness, thick and oily to the touch, filled everything above and below the horizon, leaving the girl wondering how she is keeping afloat in this substance. The void wasn’t all-encompassing; occasionally, a flash of a rainbow speared the darkness, bringing back memories.

Nadya, her leg broken, rested in her arms as the young Ratcatcher fled into another darkness, bleeding from her shoulder. The next flash reminded the girl of their first official meeting in the hospital, and how Nadya screamed her lungs out. Another memory brought up the wonder of the elevator and Ratcatcher riding it up and down, and Bloodsworn apologizing to the neighbors for the confusion, who smiled and assured the mighty Abnormal that everything was fine. One pleasant woman even gifted homemade cakes to the family.

Speaking of food. Her mouth watered at the sight of the blue streak racing overhead, showing her and Vengeanceater hungrily devouring their first ice cream. A treat worthy of the Planet! She tried to touch her stomach, but found nothing — no hole, no wound — her fingers slipped through the empty space and…

“You will rule. You have no choice now.” A thunderbolt split the darkness, and her blood turned cold.

The blue streak stretched into a window, filling the darkness and illuminating the floating Ratcatcher. Its color changed; dark, sickly green splotches dotted the surface, devouring the soothing color and instilling panic into her very being. She wanted to run and hide; her survival instinct warned the girl of the approach of something alien, something that should not, could not be here. And she couldn’t move even a single imaginary muscle, immobilized by her own fear, and laid bare for the green light.

A hand surfaced from the dark green, having a slightly lighter shade. Another followed, pulling out the swaying, featureless human shape. It struggled to break free of the happy memory, staining it with its impossible glow. The shape’s head had two glowing dots and two blue flames that left traces in the air akin to falling comets as the thing’s swaying intensified, turning into a blur.

It came to a halt without warning, still stuck to the waist in the memory, the head connected to the thorax, and there was no visible neck. It leaned toward her from the dark sky, bigger than anything and utterly alien. She had met it once. Ratcatcher was sure of it. But no matter how hard she tried, no memory came. In her frantic search, a dark crack appeared to her left, and Eight’s clawed hand reached for her neck. With a single snap of its fingers, the green shape banished the accursed apparition.

“Fear is unacceptable,” it boomed, both chastising and disgusted by her weakness. And through it all, she sensed… concern? “You are better than this. Stronger. Resilient. Through fidelity to your country, you had proven it.” A ghost of Wivin’s offer echoed across the dark waters. “By showing clemency, you have earned allies for life.” The happy memories of her group dragging Ratcatcher to the party pushed through the dread, calming her heart. “Your family is waiting for you in the realm of consciousness.” Liam raced across the dark sky on all fours, leaving a brilliant road after him, and a younger Ratcatcher followed, trying to catch him. Her legs slipped, and she rammed into a wardrobe, saved from it smashing her by Dad as Mom caught Liam.

“What is your wish?” The blue eyes demanded. Her body started levitating, closing in on the giant head, and she saw its surface bubbling. Solidifying. The shapeless features disappeared, and a drowned crowned man burned his green eyes into her, and the memory of the filth who ate her made Ratcatcher scream in horror. The apparition vanished after becoming a part of the vast green. “What do you desire? What ambition shall drive us? Tell me, tell me…”

“Tell me, Eliza.” A vision of Mr. Brock pushed through the green shape, and she found herself floating in the history class. The jovial man raised a hand, restoring order. “Settle down, settle down. Laughter is good for the health, but we all make mistakes and there is no need to embarrass your classmate. Eliza, stop chuckling and think about how Ravager would sustain such a push…”

White light flashed into her eyes, and hospital lights materialized in the view, popping like night stars appearing in the sky. They dispelled the darkness, revealing a white hospital room. To her left was a large window letting in the sun’s rays, and several flower pots decorating a windowsill gave the place a somewhat homey feel.

She lay on a large hospital bed, covered in a white blanket up to her chin, and a white oxygen mask pumped a stream of fresh, clean air into her mouth and nostrils. Elastic cords and rubbery tubes from various machines around the room snaked under the blanket, their ends all over her body. Some were in her arms, no doubt carrying either antibiotics or vitamins or feeding her intravenously, and the ends of two tubes were in her… Oh. Oh, my. Ratcatcher took off the mask and noticed the writing on the oxygen tank.

Rise and shine, sleepyhead! These broad letters, made by careless strokes of the red marker, belong to Carlos. Get Well Soon, Lizzie. Blue and yellow marks left by the twins. Eliza, if you wake up and find no one around, don’t panic and press the button to your right; it’ll call the nurse. Do not try to get out, or I’ll beat… Get Well Soon. Elina’s hand left the bright and elegant writing, and Ratcatcher smiled, trying to reach for the button, when a large black figure rose from a chair and filled the view.

She wasn’t afraid, not one bit, smelling the newcomer before her eyes could focus on it. A medical grade hardening gel covered the cruel talon, ensuring its edge would cut no one by accident; thick gloves covered the muscular paws; and a modest black dress. And yet, the scent! Musk of excitement left the pores of both people, conveying their love and care through smell better than any words could. Family. Kin. Worry.

“Eliza!” Bloodsworn wrapped her tree-trunk arms around the thinned body, and Ratcatcher found herself at a loss for words.

She wanted to tell Mom that all was fine, but the memories of the brutal beatdown and the desperate fear of something that had wrangled control of her body drowned out any bragging. Tears welled up in her human and rat eyes, and she whimpered, breaking down and pressing her forehead to Mom’s chest, seeking safety as if she were a kid who broke a bone or got scared by spiders once more.

“Mom! Mom, I was so afraid,” Ratcatcher said quickly.

Pain! She remembered it — the ultimate, unimaginable agony — dissolving her every muscle, gnawing at her bones, setting fire to every cell. Pain, unyielding and merciless, it receding for several minutes as she screamed, only to return, accompanied by a horrible itching tormenting her body. When someone had tore her free from the Chosen Prince Ratcatcher even tried to bite off her tongue, doing as the eldest and sickest people back in their village did to escape indignity and mutilating passing. It didn’t work; someone had jammed her jaws, making her live, making her scream!

“It’s okay, precious.” Bloodsworn ran her fangs along her neck, grooming her fur of any imaginary parasites and abandoning the civilian persona she had built up for so long. Here and now, her mother was not Joanna Vong, but the mutated Abnormal of Scrapyard, the best fighter of their village, and secretions released by her glands calmed the panic, turning the unfamiliar room into an image of home.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“I tried to be strong; I tried to run away, but the spider… Eyuuuaaah!” she screamed at the sudden pain, shocking Mom and jerking as a sensation that felt like her insides were being ripped out graced her bottom.

“Got them!” A black-pelted boy announced, jumping up on one leg.

“Liam?” Planet, he grew a few centimeters! The rascal wore a white sleeveless shirt. Unlike Mom’s, his paws were free of gloves, and hardened foam covered the tips of his fingers, preventing the claws from coming off. His tail slipped between the shirt and blue shorts, slicing through the air in excitement. “The hell are you doing?!” She put a hand to her chest, trying to slow the beating heart that threatened to cause a stroke. In her fear, she imagined this all to be an illusion and thought that the pain was coming back.

“Philippi and Rowen told me the tubes will be taken out when you wake up,” Liam said unabashedly.

“But not by you, I bet! You…” Ratcatcher tried to chastise him and nearly choked as her brother shoved a slice of pizza into her mouth. “Are… you… kill me?!”

“Less talking, more eating.” Liam pushed a tray full of food onto the bed. “Doctors said…” Ratcatcher’s stomach growled. “And here it is.”

She didn’t listen to him anymore, ignoring even Mom’s words, and grabbed the food, chomping at apples, well-cut steak, cakes, and pizza. She swallowed large chunks, obsessed with filling her stomach. The hunger almost made her tremble; it was as if some seal had been broken in her body and it needed food to propel itself, and the stomach, like an angry demon, demanded sacrifices. Ratcatcher obliged, eating too fast to enjoy.

The blanket came down to her waist. She was littered with various sensors and probes, clinging to her like parasites. Needles pierced the veins in her arms, and she looked like a starvation victim! The belly sank to the spine; her pride and joy, the mighty iron muscles, were gone, and she grasped at food with noodle arms. Her fur pelt lost its lushness, turned dim, and was way shorter than she remembered it. Ratcatcher had lost the well-developed physique she had worked so hard to build in the Academy, along with all the scars and everything reminding her of Scrapyard.

No use crying over spilled milk. I’ll catch up to Elina again yet! The trainee promised herself, touching her whiskers and finding them almost nonexistent.

Liam and she head-butted each other, making a muffled noise, and growls left their limbs. Mom had told her a story once. When two children were born to the same mother, they often competed for the mother’s milk, pushing each other away. Liam had never had to experience this, but the worries about his sister had awakened up some instincts in him, and he charged for food. Because of her stress, Ratcatcher was also driven by instinct and tried to push him away, understanding how weak she was.

Liam let her win. She knew it for sure; she wasn’t strong enough to win the contest, but he leaned back and ate the scraps at the tray’s edges, still growling, but his growl came more off as a surprise, and there was a shock in his eyes as his pores let out the musk of aggression and challenge. He sniffed himself, curious as to where the smell came from. Raised among the Iternians, Liam didn’t instinctively understand why he would ever do this, but the biological predisposition and certain reflexes were ingrained in their bodies with their mother’s milk, and unlike his sister, no one had trained him to keep his natural urges in check.

She changed the snarl into a smile, still shoving meat and chocolate down her throat. Her tail slipped out from under the blanket, so lean and weak. Liam’s moved too, and their tails tangled as Liam moved to sit closer, hugging her with one hand and hungrily picking at food with the other. There was no need for words. Here and now, everything is perfect. Ideal.

Seeing that her offspring had overcome their calls of nature, Bloodsworn kissed them both and told her daughter not to move and her son to stay away from the wires. She opened the door, and Ratcatcher saw her father standing with his back to the entrance, wearing a hat and an ill-fitting brown suit, his tail wrapped around his waist.

“So, are you a Malformed or something?” asked a young boy in the overalls of a Barjoni medical student, holding a data slate in his hands.

“Tough question, Philippi,” Seeker said. “We don’t eat human meat. Iterna classified us as mutants.”

“That can’t be right!” A girl in the white and green of a city guide stomped on the floor. Based on her resemblance to the kid, Ratcatcher assumed she and the boy were family. “Mutants revert to human appearance in each successive generation. And Limy certainly looks more like a rat than you. They must be Malformed; otherwise, why are they so different from each other?”

“The Insectoid Commune is also all different,” the boy said thoughtfully.

“Been making friends, are you?” Ratcatcher whispered to her brother as Mom stepped toward Dad. “Please tell me you disassembled nothing.” He gave her a shit-eating grin. “Liam!”

“Sweetie!” Dad smoothly turned around and rushed in, closing his arms around her, kissing his daughter on the forehead. “Call a nurse!”

“On it!” The siblings said, scurrying in different directions.

“I am sorry,” Ratcatcher said with a full mouth. “I am so sorry for making you worry and…”

“It’s all right, Lizzie,” Seeker hugged her, giving her space to eat. “Everything is fine. We love you. You are safe. Rest, relax, and don’t even think about sneaking away!”

“But how are you…” She choked on a piece of bone, and Dad sat her upright, helping her oscillating neck’s muscles snap the thing in two and push it down. “Sorry. “

“Use your fangs, Eliza.” Mom put a hand on her head. “No child of mine will ever be stupid enough to lose to food.”

“Yeah,” Ratcatcher blushed. “How come you’re all here so soon?”

“Soon?” Dad asked.

“I was only injured yesterday…”

“Liz.” Liam elbowed her. “It’s been twenty-four days since they put you to bed. You and that friend of yours have been sleeping for almost a month.” He grinned again. “Also, you have been snoring like an overweight drunkaaaa…” Mom yanked the laughing Liam by the ear, chastising him for teasing. “Don’t hate me for telling the truth! Lizy snores, walls shaking!”

A month? The fur on her nape rose. No way, it can’t be right; they had to be joking! She asked Dad for the terminal and was horrified. Twenty-four — more like twenty-five — days had passed! Still in shock, she listened to the account of how her family arrived here and what had transpired in the world. Rho International helped them with visas, doing in three days what should have taken months. All four countymeisters vouched for the trainees’ families, and the Oathtakers’ Ministry of Foreign Affairs made no fuss and quickly approved everyone for a touristic visit, extending their stay for thirty days.

Dad had offered to take the unpaid leave, but his manager and co-workers wouldn’t hear of it. The union filled out the paperwork in his absence, put him on paid leave to care for an injured child, made sure he didn’t miss a single paycheck, and also added a onetime bonus to his monthly salary.

Apparently, there was an international incident on Iterna, as the public staged a demonstration against the endangerment of the children, demanding the end of the training program of the would-be explorators and blaming the Oathtakers for failing to protect the Iternian future. Lord Steward took this on the chin. He had made several speeches, accepting the accountability but denying full responsibility for the incident. Diplomats from both sides tried to find a consensus to appease the people, and the Reclamation Army fanned the flames, painting their rivals as irresponsible and flaunting their security.

Headmaster Torosian and the Academy leadership went for the jugular, forcing the president’s hand into giving the Academy more resources and personnel to protect the trainees. Gone were the days of a single instructor accompanying the group. The military had coughed out a program for Problemsolvers to accompany underage trainees on all missions, greatly increasing the number and even the generation of these artificial soldiers.

In the wake of the Iternian enemies’ surprisingly precise attacks, the government unchained the Shadows. Though the government kept the results of their work from the public, several high-ranking officials resigned.

The Academy wasn’t finished. The Release into Service act, a public program designed to encourage young Abnormals in juvenile rehabilitation facilities, was about to undergo massive changes. Thanks to the heroic deeds of Yura and Jumail, greatly exaggerated by the media, the government made plans to loosen up the rules, and no longer force the non-human-looking Abnormals to return after citizens mistook them for monsters. Their right to stay in the cities after classes was to be heavy expanded, to the almost universal cheers of all minor ex-convicts.

The length of her incredibly long coma shocked Ratcatcher as she listened to the news in half an ear. She had missed so much! The map opened in her hand, growing larger and larger, and the girl breathed a sigh of relief that her friends were still in Stonehelm. She had feared they would all leave her behind.

Relieved, Ratcatcher closed the map and listened to what else had changed, throwing a strange thing out of her head. The dot marking her own location on the map. It was now in the shape of two overlapping circles.