"THIS IS H-013 OF SC-DIV-4, BEGINNING ARCANE EXAMINATION TEST LOG #1 OF SUBJECT SC-DIV-4 ANVIL-1847."

The voice was monotone. A grating, scratchy noise. The sound came from a space high on the wall, through a rune fashioned like an open mouth with rows of sharp teeth, glowing blue whenever it projected the voice. Just below it was a one-way window, a pane of perfect blackness in contrast to the pristine white walls around it. I couldn't see the person behind the tinted glass, if there even was one at all.

"YOUR COLLAR HAS BEEN REMOVED FOR THE PURPOSES OF TESTING AND ROUTINE EXAMINATION. WHILE THE COLLAR IS OFF, YOU WILL REMAIN IN THE CENTER OF THE CHAMBER AT ALL TIMES UNLESS EXPLICITLY INSTRUCTED OTHERWISE. ANY ATTEMPTS TO DIRECT ANY ABILITIES TOWARDS THE WALLS, FLOOR WINDOW OR CEILING WILL RESULT IN AN IMMEDIATE CEASING OF THE TEST, PUNISHMENT, AND A RESTRICTION OF LUXURY PRIVILEGES."

Even though the collar wasn't clamped around my neck, my breathing didn't come any easier. I kept my breathing deep and steady, like I always did, but the weight on my neck and shoulders felt no different.

I rubbed at the red indent around my neck, a cold mark left in the collar's absence. Like every other room in this place, it was spacious, white and featureless. My eyes darted around, looking for something to break the monotonous white. Some mark, scratch or stain. Something.

The lack of distractions made it easier to think, but a distraction could be beneficial sometimes. When there was little to take my mind off of planning and escape, I was reminded of the ways I could burn time back home. Comics, a walk through the town, working on my-

"THE TEST WILL BEGIN IMMEDIATELY. YOU HAVE BEEN IDENTIFIED AS AN ANVIL CLASS CASTER WITH NO OTHER NOTABLE CLASSIFICATIONS. IS THIS CORRECT?"

I wasn't as well versed in the Caster Classifications as I would have liked to be. Still, I didn't have the time to answer a question with a question. The voice was demanding, one with no tolerance for uncertain answers. Familiar. I nodded.

"Yes," I spoke back, hoping my voice was loud enough for the person behind the window to hear. It was hard to judge how loud to be while in a large, empty room with no face to address. The echo bounced off the walls around me, making it sound like I was surrounded on all sides by my own voice.

"DEMONSTRATE YOUR ABILITIES IN THE CENTER OF THE ROOM. IF YOU REQUIRE MATERIALS, STATE YOUR REQUEST. IF DEEMED ACCEPTABLE, YOU WILL BE PROVIDED WITH MATERIALS FOR THE SAKE OF TESTING, AND TESTING ALONE. ANYTHING YOU CREATE DURING THE TEST WILL BE THE PROPERTY OF THE FACILITY. CREATING TRAPPED OR CURSED ITEMS WILL RESULT IN A PUNISHMENT AND A RESTRICTION OF LUXURY PRIVILEGES."

The voice reminded me of something. Whatever it was, it lingered at the edge of my mind, just far enough away that I couldn't figure out what, but close enough that it was certain to irritate me if I didn't devote more time to it, like an itch I couldn't scratch with my hands or tail alone. I was going to be busy with whatever this test was, but I'd be sure to think about it later when I-

"IF YOU REQUIRE MATERIALS, STATE YOUR REQUEST. THIS QUESTION WILL NOT BE REPEATED A THIRD TIME. IF THE SUBJECT IS UNCOOPERATIVE, THIS WILL RESULT IN PUNISHMENT AND A RESTRICTION OF LUXURY PRIVILEGES."

That same message again. My fingers tapped relentlessly against a scale on my leg. There was nothing 'luxury' about this place to begin with. What could they possibly take from me that they hadn't already taken? I reached up to rub my temple with both hands, taking a long, deep breath. Anger wasn't going to get me anywhere. It needed to go.

"I need metal. Iron or steel. If you have springs or wires prepared, I'll need those too. And metalworking tools," I spoke through a stream of consciousness, mentally running through the list I'd used back in Addersbrook. I'd never put much thought into what I needed for work. Having metal and my tools on hand or in my pouch had always been second nature.

"FOR THE PURPOSES OF TESTING, THIS REQUEST HAS BEEN APPROVED. RAISE YOUR HANDS AND STAND WITH YOUR BACK AGAINST THE WALL FARTHEST FROM THE DOOR. SEVERAL ARMED WORKER DOLLS WILL ENTER THE CHAMBER WITH THE MATERIALS REQUESTED. ANY ATTEMPTS TO APPROACH THE DOLLS BEFORE VERBAL AUTHORISATION TO DO SO WILL RESULT IN-"

I tuned the voice out. I... I'd gotten the message.

I raised my hands, holding them above my head as I backed upto the far side wall, opposite the door and the window above it. The thin shirt provided little insulation against the cold wall. Shivering from the contact, I pulled my tail up from my side, putting it between myself and the wall. Even if my tail was cold, it provided my back with some meagre relief. I was glad to have it, even if it was only a small comfort.

Was Sigura taking part in a similar test? I was sure she'd be happy to have her magic back, even if only for a short while. Getting to flex her abilities for the first time since their imprisonment must be a-

My heart sank at the thought of what could happen. She wouldn't try to attack the window, would she? There was little chance of escape, even if she had access to her magic. I silently begged whatever Gods were listening that she'd have the sense to hold back her anger. If she decided not to co-operate for a while, I could handle that. If she stonewalled these people, that would still be better than lashing out at them. The punishment for being silent was surely less than a violent outburst, right?

Metal ground against metal, and the sound of the doors opening redirected the feeling of worry. The armored Dolls stepped through, a group of four total. The two in front carried metal glaives that were as tall as I was, tipped with a curved steel blade and an emerald-green crystal. The pair behind them carried boxes that rattled with a metallic jangling. They came closer and closer to me, and for a moment I worried they were going to immobilise or attack me, searching for the first excuse they could find to strike. I stopped breathing, my chest going still as my eyes were locked on the workers.

The group stopped in the center of the room.

The pair of Dolls at the back gingerly bent over, placing the boxes on the ground with surprising care. They turned around without incident, walking towards the exit. The armed Dolls walked backwards without turning, keeping their eyes fixed solely on me, weapons still clenched in their metallic fists. They backed up into the corridor beyond the testing chamber, the door grinding shut behind them. I felt my eyes begin to water, the eyelids wobbling from the strain. I forced myself to blink, no longer worried enough to keep my focus on the Dolls.

"YOU MAY STEP AWAY FROM THE WALL. THE MATERIALS REQUESTED HAVE BEEN RECORDED AND PLACED IN THE CENTER OF THE ROOM. APPROACH THE BOXES AND DEMONSTRATE YOUR MAGIC. IF YOU USE A METHOD THAT ALLOWS FOR SPEECH DURING THE PROCESS, EXPLAIN YOUR THOUGHTS AND HOW YOU BELIEVE THE MAGIC IS CONNECTED TO YOUR IDENTITY AS YOU CRAFT."

I walked towards the pair of boxes, kneeling down to look inside. The box on my right was organised by size and tool, filled to the brim with metalworking apparatus. Wrenches, screwdrivers, hammers, a flashlight, measuring tape. Some were made for hands like mine, while others were clearly built for smaller hands or designed for more delicate work. Others were oversized, heavy and unwieldy enough that I figured they were useless to me.

The other box was less organised. It was stuffed with metal bits and pieces of varying sizes. Some looked as though they'd been ripped straight from other constructs, with sharp, broken edges and corners jutting out. I extended my hand, about to blindly put my hand into the metal death trap. Bad idea. The last thing I needed was to cut myself and show weakness. Slow and steady. Instead, I put my hands on the side of the box.

With a single push, I tipped it over. The sound of the metal crashing to the floor was erratic, breaking the silence of the otherwise sterile room as the noise violently bounced around me. Using the end of the hammer, I began to separate pieces of metal, pushing them away from one another to get a better sense of what I was working with, to bring some organisation to-

"SUBJECT, EXPLAIN YOUR PROCESS."

The voice jarred me from my thoughts. If they were going to interrupt me like this, I worried I wouldn't be able to get in the zone.

"These pieces are jagged. I have to sort them out to know what I can use."

I continued sorting, feeling a small sense of relief when they didn't respond.

"UNDERSTOOD. CARRY ON."

That was short lived.

Over the next few minutes, I focused on nothing but the metal. My breathing was even, and I felt more calm than I had in... I wasn't sure, but it had felt like a long time, now.

I was in my element now, surrounded by sharp metal and a world of possibilities. I didn't know what I wanted to build. I disliked the thought of inventing for someone else, but after all this time I was itching to flex my magic. Not for them, but for me. It was like a craving, one that I couldn't ignore now that the temptation to indulge in it had been placed right in front of me. It was a reminder to myself of what I could do, the powers unique to me that they had temporarily stripped away.

With every piece of metal that was pushed away from others, my understanding of them as a collective grew. Springs, wires, broken bits of pipe, thick metal sheets. Each could be a piece to a puzzle of my own design, slotting together to turn from junk into something usable. Something I could be proud of and comfortable trusting myself to use. Every piece deserved my undivided attention. I took my time considering each sheet of steel and jagged shard as I slowly nudged them apart with the hammer, the sound of the iron and steel scraping across the floor serving to expunge the uncomfortable silence.

I didn't know how long I'd been crouched here, absentmindedly pushing metal pieces away from one another, but it was therapeutic. Not being able to tell how long I'd been here was something I took as a good sign. It meant I was forgetting about other things. Idle thoughts and poisonous emotions were drifting further and further away. I was getting lost in the zone.

With the collar off my neck, I reveled in the ideas that flooded into my mind, the possible outcomes that I could make reality with own two hands, if I could just-

"BEGIN THE PROCESS, SUBJECT."

The scales around my neck and shoulders stood up. I could feel the shirt being pulled upwards by the involuntary response. With my free hand, I grabbed the bottom of the shirt, pulling it further down over my thighs.

"I can't," I said, speaking a half-truth in my irritation. "I need peace and quiet. If I don't get in the zone, I can't invent."

I expected another short response, but what came back wasn't what I expected.

"ARE YOU CAPABLE OF SPEECH WHILE IN THE INVENTING PROCESS? IF YOU ENTER A TRANCE OR ARE OTHERWISE INCAPABLE OF PERCEIVING YOUR SURROUNDINGS DURING THE PROCESS, THEN CLARIFY."

A trance...? I knew that I could be oblivious while I was working, but I wouldn't go that far.

"Yes, I'm capable of speaking," I called out to the empty room. "But I won't. I need quiet, or I won't be able to work my magic."

"UNDERSTOOD. CARRY ON."

They didn't press me on it? Thank the Gods for small mercies. I could probably speak during the process if I wanted, but I didn't want to distract myself. If I lost my train of thought, I'd need to dismantle whatever I was making and start from the beginning.

I closed my eyes, hammer in hand as I focused on my breathing. I cleared my mind of all distractions, using magic in conjunction with my [Silent Heart]. Thoughts of the facility, of survival, of Sigura. They all drifted out of my head, leaving only a black void in my mind. I imagined the pit, the one that I'd created as an outlet for my [Silent Heart]. I would need to draw from the pit if I wanted to get work done. Inspiration didn't come from logic alone, I'd found.

"[Creative Process]," I muttered, more to myself than anyone else.

I was in the zone.

These people had described it as a trance, and perhaps they weren't completely wrong. My hands moved on autopilot, reaching for pieces of metal as my mind looked on, detached. I was free to think, and my thoughts would influence what I did. It was a process I'd become very familiar with.

I needed a good foundation. A sturdy piece of reliable metal that would serve to hold the rest together. I pulled several lumps of thin corrugated sheets together. I held out my hand, watching as a small flame billowed to life. I smiled at the sight of the flickering fire.

It reminded me of my first time learning magic. [Ignite] was a Spell many young Casters learned. It was a 1st Tier Spell, something even a child could learn with enough practice. It wasn't something that anyone could learn, obviously, but I'd been around fire my whole life. When you were the daughter of two smiths, heat and flame became second nature.

I was disappointed to learn this was as far as I could take my flames. [Ignite] could hurt someone with contact, but it didn't burn as hot as real flames, not without concentration and effort. I could never turn it into something bigger, like a [Fireball] or [Wall of Flame].

Ever since conjuring my first [Ignite], I'd imagined myself as a seasoned [Pyromancer], creating towers of fire and gigantic birds crafted from honed infernos. It was a pipe dream, one that I'd let go of early on. Still, the desire to become an adventurer had lived on in my heart. Even if I couldn't fling fire around, I had other uses for it.

I pressed the flame up against the metal, watching as the steel grew hotter and hotter. I couldn't work it while it was as unyielding as it was, but with effort, I could get the flame to burn stronger. I'd learned early on that my flames were most effective on metal. I'd tried burning wood the same way, but it took more effort. One of many small intricacies my magic had, I supposed.

I was only vaguely aware of what my body was doing as I thought to myself. I could hear the banging of steel on steel as I brought the hammer down, smoothing out the edges of the sheets, bringing them together. I'd welded three pieces together, creating a rough 'V' shape. A fine foundation. I continued to work, letting my mind drift.

In truth, I still wasn't sure what I was making. I'd read about this type of magic, and learned that those who let the magic take over some of the work tended to be more successful. Their work became more pure, unbound by misconceptions and open to subconscious influence. Invention Magic was as much an art as it was a science, as counter-intuitive as it may seem. Without realising, my magic would subtly influence the metal as I worked, changing its properties to fit what I wanted. I didn't know what changes were happening, but I tried not to think about it.

"Where is it... where is it...?" I heard myself mutter. I usually wasn't aware of myself speaking while crafting. Maybe it was because of the unfamiliar territory.

I picked up the end of a broken pipe, heating and cutting the top, making a smooth, curved surface that I bound to the base of the 'V'. I brought more pieces of metal together, using springs and wire to add to the invention, building it closer and closer to completion. A memory came to mind as I worked. Sitting next to the river at home with a pile of pebbles next to me. I remembered the splash of my first attempt to skip stones off the water. It was a failure, but after having seen someone else do it, I was determined to learn.

As I worked, I felt a headache coming on. My body worked the same as always, but I felt a dull throb forming in my temple. I winced, even as my hands continued to mold metal and glow with a soft murky green light.

"Break...?" I heard myself say, speaking louder now.

"CONTINUE THE TEST, SUBJECT."

I did.

The walls and base were complete, but they needed something more. As it was, the creation was simple. It would serve to protect and fulfill its purpose, but it didn't feel as though it were enough. It was missing something. A secret ingredient.

The throb in my temple was becoming more pronounced now. I felt my thoughts drifting from the project, moving from idle thoughts of mechanisms and magic to memories.

The pain reminded me of the first time I'd felt Soulburn.

After learning [Ignite], I'd worked harder and harder to become a [Pyromancer]. Father had warned me not to force it, and I tried to listen. During the quiet moments, while I was alone, I tried anyway.

He had told me Fire Magic was the tool of a destroyer when pushed beyond crafts. I wanted to be an adventurer, even if it meant I'd have to hide my abilities from my family. I remembered the exhaustion, how I pushed beyond it out of desperation. I remembered the pain in my hands when my magic went too far, burning my hands and leaving them red.

I had ran out to the stream while mother was hanging washing on the line. I dunked my hands in the river, trying to be discrete. Father had told mother what I'd been doing, and they had punished me.

It was the same when I practiced Enhancement Magic. I had tried to make my arms tougher, to push myself to the point of breaking bark and stone with my bare fists, like a seasoned [Boxer] or [Monk]. My hands had trembled, and my skin became weaker, fragile. I'd pushed myself again, and I began to shed scales. Even lying in bed had been agony. It was a lesson I'd learned a second time, but still I pushed myself.

This was different.

While fire and enhancement were beyond me, Invention Magic clicked. It made sense in a way the others hadn't. I knew that I carried the blood of a resourceful crafter. I was the child of two [Blacksmiths]. I couldn't create fire, or harden the hands that could craft a [Swordsman's] blades, but I could build in a way they couldn't. While they used the heat of a forge and learned technique, I used imagination and creativity.

This was my magic.

This was where I felt at home.

I felt as though my head was being squeezed between a monster's jaws. I dropped whatever I'd been working on, knowing that I was finished. The rune above the door released sound, but I couldn't make out what was being said over the ringing in my ears. I felt a sense of relief and calm as I closed my eyes. The pain stung and throbbed incessantly, but I couldn't suppress the feeling of pride. The feeling that it had all been worth it.

After a few minutes of breathing, I felt the sharp blades of pain in my head weaken, becoming a dull throb once again. The throbbing was bearable. I rolled onto my side, commanding my tired, trembling arms to push me upright. I managed to hold myself in a cross-legged position without falling forward. Stable, for now.

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The device in front of me looked like a crude gun, or a mechanical slingshot. The 'V' had formed a long, makeshift barrel. The pipe I'd picked up had become a handle. I'd woven a trigger of bent steel into it at some point, connected to springs and a thick length of wire along the back. I picked up a deformed ball of metal, sliding it into the barrel. I pulled it back against the wire, relaxing as I heard the creaking of steel. It wasn't a reassuring sound on its own, but it was my sound. Once I'd deemed it to be back far enough, I aimed it at the wall on my left.

The voices were saying something, but I couldn't hear them.

I pulled the trigger, and the wire snapped taut. The sight of it reminded me of my grappling hook. It was a similar mechanism. A similar memory. The thought of it brought a sense of melancholy, a feeling quickly replaced by pride as the ball shot out of the barrel, striking the wall on the far side. I smiled weakly, eyes locked on my target. It didn't dent the wall, or even leave a scratch, but the bang of the impact was satisfying. Even if it did leave my head ringing.

The door opened, and the four Dolls walked in. Still feeling off, I picked up the invention, cradling it to my chest. Two Dolls pointed spears at me, keeping me from moving as one of the unarmed Dolls stepped forward, reaching down to grab the invention.

My breath quickened, arms tightening. I held onto it for dear life, as though it were a life raft and I was drowning. Without it, I'd fall. My strength was nothing compared to that of the Doll. My gun was pried from my grip, and I fell forward. The other Doll grabbed my arms, roughly lifting me to my feet. I had no desire to stand, not with my head like this, but I wasn't being given a choice. As one, the Dolls moved, guiding me to the door.

I could hear the voice speaking in the background, saying something my ears didn't want me to hear. The words didn't reach me, but the tone and intention was clear. Irritation. Dissatisfaction. My eyes drifted back to the Doll holding the gun. My gun. I felt a sharp sting of indignation as my fists clenched.

It clicked in my head. I knew why the voice sounded familiar. It was a voice that had wanted me to build for them, not for myself. A voice that wanted my talents for profit and their own gain, instead of letting me explore them in my own way. A voice that wished to own and direct me, without any regard for my desires or the path I wanted to take.

As the doors finally closed shut behind us, I knew.

The voice reminded me of father.

______________________________________________________________________

The atmosphere was different.

After walking into the cafeteria on a day that I had thought would be the same as any other, I could tell something had changed. I kept my posture steady and my head down, not wanting to garner any unwanted attention. When I'd come here before, there had always been people uncaring of whether or not others saw them. They were the people that had the strength and confidence to defend themselves from others, should they come under attack.

That strength and confidence was nowhere to be seen, now.

The cafeteria wasn't as lively as before. There were far fewer people than usual, and those that remained seemed wary and worried. I kept my eyes forward, feeling more on edge than I had in... I wasn't sure how long. I'd been getting accustomed to this place, settling into habits and consistencies that made the facility more of an extended training regimen of tasks and objectives I could work my way through, but now it felt foreign. Something had shaken the status quo. Something was changing.

I waited by the usual spot, standing by the trough around the outer rim of the cafeteria. Without realising, I'd memorised some of the faces I'd seen here. After people had gotten into the habit of taking certain 'routes' around the cafeteria runs, I'd started to recognise them, even if I'd never thought too much of it.

I hadn't ever spoken with those people, but I felt their absence now.

There was only a single person I recognised, a confused Human child. He was looking around in shock, shaking like a leaf even more than he typically did. Perhaps he was feeling the same thing I was. Poor thing. I wished I could have given him the same ability to bury fear that I had.

I stood in place as the minutes dragged on. My stomach continued to rumble, and I was certain that the food should have appeared by now. The people around me were murmuring to one another, hushed speech overtaking the usual silence and rush of activity.

"Fuck is wrong with the troughs?"

I looked to my left, watching as Sigura approached. She usually waited at the meat trough she'd gone to the first day, but now she'd come to see me early. She must have noticed the change in the atmosphere too. It wasn't just me being paranoid or overly wary. I saw the child cower away from her as she approached, her expression burning with irritation.

"I don't know..." I muttered back. "The food should be here by now."

"You know anything about this, tumor?" Sigura called out, swinging her eyes to her left. I followed her gaze, spotting Yrlack at the inner circle, waiting for the fruit and vegetables to emerge from the floor.

"It is quiet today, is it not?" he responded, his voice hollow.

"No shit," Sigura muttered back. She made her way over to the Brainmane, and I followed suit.

"Where's everyone gone? The Dolls should've gotten everyone to the cafeteria by now, right? What gives?"

Yrlack looked down towards the ground, unable to meet Sigura's eyes. He wore a small smile on his face, one that carried a bitter, melancholy tinge. It was enough to cause the scales on my shoulders to stick up.

Something was seriously wrong, and Yrlack knew it too.

"For as brief as our time together was, I wish to say it has been a pleasure to get to know both of you, as little as such a sentiment may mean," he said finally, looking back up.

I focused on my breathing more than his words, keeping a steady rhythm of deep inhalations. Sigura only got angrier.

"We're not dead yet, you furball tumor. What the fuck is going on?"

The Brainmane shook his head, closing his eyes as his snout was once again pointed towards the hard metal floor.

"No," he whispered. "I fear we have been dead for weeks. The moment we were captured by these people, our destinies had been decided. I believe today to be the day of reckoning. It is only a matter of time before the reaper arrives to collect their dues."

"What are you talking about...?" I asked, my voice hoarse and strained. My breathing quickened, but I kept it deep, working hard to keep intrusive thoughts from my mind. His words weren't making it any easier to sustain the rhythm.

"I feared it was only a matter of time, but I had hoped for a longer interim, to get my thoughts in order to leave this world in peace," Yrlack continued, ignoring my question.

Sigura reached forward, grabbing his shirt with a clenched fist.

She was trembling. He was still.

"She asked you a fucking question, you shitty tumor! What's going on?"

Despite my own shaking, and the angry trembling of Sigura, Yrlack was deathly calm. Even with the help of my Skill, he was calmer than I was.

"The tests have begun," he whispered.

"Tests...?" I asked. My mind flashed backwards in time. I remembered the slingshot I'd crafted, and the persistent, throbbing headache that had followed in its wake. "We've gone through the tests, haven't we? They've never taken this many people out all at once for tests before, not before a meal time."

"These are not the same. What we have experienced was a mere evaluation of our worth. These 'tests' are experiments, a heartless use of our lives to dig for power and knowledge within the limitless potential of magic, using our very Souls as the shovels."

Experiments...? My heart dropped at the realisation. The Brainmane closed his eyes, his expression solemn. He'd seen the realisation in my face. Sigura had let go of the man's shirt.

"Shit..." she croaked. Her eyes rose to the ceiling, but no sky met her eyes. I could see disbelief in her expression. "They're going to turn us into Chimeras...? Now...?"

Yrlack said nothing. The silence spoke more than words ever could.

Sigura's movements were sluggish. She reached up, and I saw her [Mantle] flare to life, an orange glow that surrounded her entire form, flickering with miniature suns. I hadn't seen her aera in so long. The sight of it reminded me of Sigura's determination, even if now I felt nothing but despair.

She gripped the collar around her neck, veins bulging on her arms as she worked to snap it with her bare hands. The grinding of her teeth caused my scales to stand up. No matter how hard she pulled, the metal never gave.

"FUCK!" she screamed, pulling with greater ferocity, like a wild animal lashing out. She desperately dragged her nails along the metal. They broke before the metal did.

Yrlack slumped to the ground, leaning his back against the metal trough. He'd given up. It was like he had said. He was 'alive', but he'd died long ago. His hope had withered away long before we'd come here.

Sigura's hands separated from the collar. The skin had turned rough and red from being scraped along the metal.

"We have to do something now, Yur. We're all out of time," she said, turning towards me, her voice dripping with desperation. "If we don't do something now, we won't get any more chances."

"What can we even do...?" I whispered. I wasn't sure she'd heard me. I had barely even heard myself.

"When those Dolls come in, we all use [Mantle] and rush them. If we take the weapons they've got, we can make a break for it."

I didn't have the heart to tell her it wouldn't work. I had only ever seen four Dolls traveling together at one time, but there had to be more. Even if we had access to our magic, there was no way for us to beat so many of them. We didn't even know the full extent of their abilities, or that of the facility as a whole. It was a lost cause.

I jumped as Sigura's hands clasped around my shoulders. Her grip was tight enough that it began to hurt, my hard scales digging into her flesh.

"Hey, Yur, don't give up on me, got it? That's an order as leader, alright? I've always been the leader, but you're the brains of our group. You can figure something out, right? You have to."

I couldn't.

Sigura's hands began to tremble. I kept my eyes locked on hers, and saw none of the confidence she usually had. It hurt to see, but the hurt was being swallowed by my breathing. I was starting to get into a rhythm, something I was so, so glad to have.

There was no list I could create. No objective I could focus on that would assure victory. There was a strange sort of peace that came with the realisation.

There was nothing I could do.

My body trembled like a newborn lamb, but my mind felt clear. I experienced that dream-like feeling again. A sense of mental clarity that came with the disconnect between body and mind. I stood there, the sound of Sigura shouting being drowned out. The other prisoners shared our concerns, even if they hadn't yet realised what was happening. They were frightened by Sigura's manic behaviour. Frightened by her display of erratic emotion. Yrlack was silent, sitting cross-legged on the ground with his back to a metal wall.

I watched, numb, as the doors to the cafeteria slid open.

The Dolls streamed in with greater numbers than I'd ever seen them. Some carried boxes of thick metal cuffs. They were cold steel, not like the black metal of our magic-sealing Ignor collars. Many Dolls stood at the entrance, blocking off the corridor beyond. With a mechanical precision, they began seizing the prisoners one by one, binding their hands behind their backs and their feet close together. Once bound, they were slowly led along towards the corridor, the cuffs making it near impossible to move, let alone fight back.

I turned my head, watching as the prisoners began to catch on. Some tried to run from the Dolls, but where could they possibly run to? They were already trapped. The Dolls were tireless, a persistent force that would always catch their prey.

If the prisoners resisted, they would touch the ends of their flat fingertips against skin or cloth, sending an electric shock through them, sparks of blue lightning that flashed for a moment as their targets dropped to the floor. I was reminded of the Minotaur, the one that Sigura had decided to get revenge on. One piece of unfinished business among many.

I looked away from the prisoners, standing still as the Dolls approached. Yrlack rose to his feet, putting his hands behind his back. I followed suit, not wanting to be shocked. If I was electrocuted, I feared that it would break the rhythm of my breathing. That was the one thing I feared in this distant, dream-like world.

I felt the cold metal clamp around my hands and feet. I could barely move with the weight and thickness of the cuffs hanging from my wrists and ankles. I feared I would have had a greater range of movement buried in a coffin. It felt stifling, as though my body were a single piece, rather than connected body parts and limbs.

I looked away from the empty faces of the Dolls. Sigura was running now, pursued by the tireless hunters. Her [Mantle] grew and thickened. She threw a punch at one of her pursuers. I saw a flash of orange and yellow, a beautiful, confident blast like the one she'd been struck by on the first day. Her fist dented the metal of their upper arm, but in the end she too was shocked.

For a brief instant, I felt pain and worry well up. The last thing I wanted to see was Sigura getting hurt. The feelings were buried beneath the breathing.

I could see her look towards me, screaming something as she rose to her feet, her form twitching. Even until the end, she fought. I felt nothing but sheer admiration for her. I wished with all my heart that Sigura would be more lucky in the next life, or that she would find a way to escape and live on, against all odds.

She was shocked again, forced down to the ground by the Dolls before getting cuffed. She was dragged to her feet, still struggling against her captors. I couldn't read her expression, clouded as they were by streaming tears. She was shouting something to me, something I couldn't make out. I wanted to say goodbye. To tell her I was glad to have met her. That I was sorry I hadn't figured something out sooner.

I was too afraid to do it. A show of emotion could have broken the dreamy spell.

She was led out of the room, down a long, metal corridor, never to be seen again. I could feel my eyes well up with tears, but no emotions came with the action. I kept my breathing steady.

At the nudge of a Doll, I began to walk forward. Yrlack did the same. The two of us walked side by side, led by the Dolls. We were going down the same path, in the end.

The corridors were as quiet and sterile as they'd always been. Backtracking towards the room I'd been sleeping in, we arrived at the metal door with the magical lock. The one I'd been afraid of touching on the first day. One path of many I'd made the choice not to take. One of the Dolls pressed their hand against the panel as cobalt light drifted down along the glassy surface. With a click, the door began to slide open. We were going somewhere new now, a direction I'd never been.

Would things have gone better if I'd explored more? If I had fought and been more active in devising escape attempts? If I hadn't retreated into myself to idly search for escape plans that would never come? If I'd done anything different? It was useless to think of these things now. Illogical. But I couldn't help myself.

In my mind, I now held an objective. I wanted to remain calm and collected until the end. No matter what, I wanted this dream-like state to stay with me. I wondered if this was how my parents had felt, living their lives with a casual disconnect from the world that I'd only mastered in my final moments. Living my entire life like this would have been awful, but it would have been safe. Nothing would have hurt me in the same way. The highs would have been lower, while the pain would have been more bearable. Would that have been a worthwhile sacrifice to make?

We were led down the corridor. All around me were glass windows. It was a stark change from the empty halls I'd become reluctantly accustomed to. They were all darkly tinted, making it hard to see what was inside. I didn't want to look, either. I didn't know what was beyond the glass, but if it threatened this dream-like safety, I wanted nothing to do with it.

That was how I thought, but my head turned nonetheless. It was much like a dream in that way too. As disconnected as I felt, I found myself powerless to defend against my own whims and curiosity.

Beyond one window I saw a mound of flesh. Not one of blood, but a pulsating mass of greenish skin. Gooey threads stuck to its sides, suspending it from the ceiling. Drops of the liquid fell from the monster, causing soundless splashes on the ground that sent thin wisps of black smoke into the air. I didn't think hard about what I'd seen.

The next was a Goliath. It was easy to recognise as one from its body shape and Humanoid skin. As easy as it was to identify the grey skinned monster's race, I'd never seen a Goliath like this. It's nails and teeth were replaced with long blades. Its jaws and lower face were obscured beneath a veil of criss-crossing steel. Its head was hairless, its eyes blank and empty, devoid of feeling or colour. I wondered how similar our eyes looked, in this moment.

The third was a child, a young boy with light grey hair and purple tattered robes. It struck me as odd. They were the first subject I'd seen that wore clothes beyond the plain white dresses and shirts the facility provided. The boy was sitting on his knees, his long shirt sprawled out on the ground around him. It was only when the long sleeves moved that I realised he wasn't wearing normal clothes. At the ends of the sleeves, thin writhing wisps of thread wriggled like a can of worms. I looked back to its face for a reprieve from the imagery, only to notice his hair moving much the same way. I saw the skin of his cheek peel off, the pale skin splitting into fibres. The boy had fused with his clothes, and he had become fabric himself.

"It will be easier if you do not look at them, little one," Yrlack spoke. His voice sounded distant, even though he was walking next to me. I tried to drown out his voice, focusing on the heavy footfalls of the Dolls and the heavy jangling of the chains around our feet and wrists.

I knew what these creatures were. Experiments using the living bodies and Souls of test subjects. An exploration into the depths of magic using the sorts of depraved methods that one would expect to see in a vile, visceral horror book. They were an example of what magic could do to a person when pushed to its extremes.

They were Chimeras.

The Dolls led us through a labyrinth of cold steel, dark glass and broken souls. I didn't know how much time had passed, but my feet were beginning to silently weep in pain. I wanted to stop. I wanted to take the heavy cuffs off. I wanted to go back to Sigura.

But I couldn't. It was far too late for that.

We arrived at another door, one of many we'd passed through. Unlike the corridors from before, this time I could hear sounds as the doors parted. Sounds other than the chains, footfalls and heavy breathing I'd become subconsciously accustomed to.

The sound of speech.

I looked around, but couldn't spot the speakers. We were in a thinner corridor now, one that was more personalised. The walls weren't as white as the ones I had become used to, these were tinged a slight blue. The doors were smaller, with symbols and markings engraved on each. I couldn't make sense of what the icons meant. This place was so different from the place I'd been living in that it took me by surprise. It was a surprise I forced myself to bury deep down in a hurry. I couldn't slip up. Not now.

We arrived at a set of metallic double doors. On the front was a titanic, all-encompassing engraving that stretched from wall to wall and floor to ceiling. It was the symbol of a butterfly.

My body shivered and locked up. I took another deep breath. There was no change. I kept going, taking breath after breath after breath. I tried to move, but my body refused to obey me.

The Doll nudged my shoulder, trying to shove me forward. When my body still didn't budge, it pushed me harder. I was knocked to the floor, falling flat on my face. I could hear a distant sound like snarling from above me. My breath quickened, the rhythm breaking. For just a moment, I saw a mass of grey fur, red eyes and a bloodstained maw.

The vision vanished. I saw Yrlack snarling at the Doll that had pushed me. It showed no reaction, bending down to wrap my arm in its fist. It yanked me to my feet. I was afraid to plant my feet on the ground, worried I would be shoved again. My heels found the floor. I looked up from the ground, continuing the walk on burning feet.

The doors opened, revealing a large room with one entrance. The final room.

I saw shelves covered in beakers of liquid, both mundane and glowing. Racks lined the walls, with hangers holding lab coats and protective helmets by the necks. Dark blue crystals hung around the room, casting the chamber in a dull, pulsing glow, like a warped heartbeat. In the center was a metal staircase leading up into a steel hexagonal vat. I couldn't see inside, but I heard the sound of bubbling liquid.

What most shocked me were the people.

They looked like [Scientists], each wearing thick, protective full-body suits. Black glass visors blocked their faces. The only face I saw in those visors was my own. The reflection I saw was an empty husk, one with a broken, bloody nose and empty, listless eyes. The impact of seeing some of the people behind this place, behind everything that happened, and what they'd done to me, was the last straw.

It shattered the dream.

I was here now, in this room, the distant world I'd been seeking refuge in long forgotten. The safety and calm of 'home' was lost now.

One of the suited men spoke in a foreign tongue, words I couldn't understand. The words sounded shorter than I was used to, muffled behind the mask. The language was rough, hard on the ears. Yrlack said something in that same tongue, but they didn't respond.

My heart was beating fast, blood rushing through my veins. I felt hard spikes of fear dig themselves deep into each and every crack of my mind. I shivered and cried, disappointed that I couldn't fulfil my last objective. I'd failed again.

The Doll dragged me forward, and my feet once again refused to comply. It didn't take no for an answer this time. With one cold, metal hand gripping the back of my neck, it pushed me forward. I winced as the front of my feet scraped along the floor. I was forced to right myself to stop the pain, my feet screaming in agony. I took little comfort in the fact that I didn't have far left to walk.

Yrlack's voice grew louder somewhere behind me. He sounded less distant now. I could hear the fury and malice in his voice. Despite all the advice he'd given us on how to stay calm, how to stay collected, how to handle one's emotions, he sounded like Sigura.

I was pushed forward again, and I took the first step up the staircase.

I tried to breathe. The collar had gotten tighter around my neck. No matter how deeply I tried to breathe, I couldn't get enough air into my lungs. I was trapped. Locked out of that dream-like haven that had been my final support. All I could do now was walk forward.

I heard a sharp thump, followed by something falling to the floor.

I took the next step, refusing to look back.

I closed my eyes, figuring it would make the trek easier. The world I saw behind closed eyelids was just as horrifying as the world beyond them. A flowing river. The screams of an injured man. The snarling of a monster in the night. The howl of pain from a dear friend.

I opened my eyes. I couldn't hide anymore. There was nowhere to hide, nowhere I could turn. The only thing I could do was walk.

The Doll wasn't holding my neck anymore. I was walking the rest of the way alone, even more alone than I'd been before. More alone than I'd been in my entire life. I walked, and walked, and walked. After what felt like an eternity of cold metal steps and vain attempts to hide, I reached the peak.

I stood at the edge of the vat, looking down into a pool of bubbling green liquid. I didn't know what it was, but the sizzling sound promised only pain. I thought of the staircases. The one I'd walked down to begin my journey into town for the last day of my life as a free Varani. The one I'd walked up to end my journey as a living being.

Now I was at the top, a collar around my neck, my magic bound and my fate sealed. It seemed no different to having a noose around my neck, waiting for my final support to be kicked out from underneath me. One step forward, and it would all be over.

I heard the [Scientists] speaking. Their tones were harsh and their words rushed. One of them shouted something in my direction. I couldn't move. I wouldn't. I felt a hand on my back. Not a hand that was there to comfort or support, but a hand to shove me forward. The Doll pushed me off my crying feet as I fell forward. I could feel the heat of the vat in the instant before I made contact. In that brief moment where my vision was filled with death, I said my final goodbyes. To my friends. To my family. To Sigura.

As I fell into the vat of pain made form, I screamed in defiance, struggling against my bonds as my skin boiled and broke. Even as my lungs filled with acid, my body melted and my form turned to nothing, I could still think, just for a moment, before even that was ripped from me.

Then, it finally happened.

Death.