Varga walked over with heavy steps, causing the worn floorboards to groan in protest under her weight. She moved into the small corner of the infirmary, where he laid and sat at Femi's side. The thick fur of her cloak brushed against the blankets of his makeshift bed as she settled beside him, the cabin's lanterns taken from the stores of raided goods flicked at the sudden draft from the opened door.
Yippe, Yippe
Victim, Femi's scrawny wolf pup, had stationed itself loyally at his side, keeping watch over its fallen master. The little beast perked up at her approach, its ears twitching as it greeted her with a high-pitched whine.
Varga nodded at the creature, it may be small, but it was fiercely devoted. It had been surprisingly helpful, if only in keeping Femi company during his unconscious struggle. Right now, she'd take any help she can to keep him tethered to the living.
Femi however didn't stir.
With careful fingers, she pulled the covers down just enough to examine him. His small body was wrapped tightly in layers of bandages, the sharp scent of strong medicinal herbs clinging to him like a shroud. Bitterroot probably for the pain and some Frostbloom to cool fever, likely, mixed with something more pungent to stave off infection. The wrappings were stained with dark patches where his blood had seeped through before clotting.
She couldn't even tell if he was still breathing.
In all honesty, he looked dead.
The thought twisted something inside her. She had fully expected him to die that day, after the Harpy Queen's talons had carved through his soft belly. Even the old Krag herb-man, with his gnarled hands and milky eyes, had shaken his head and muttered that his chances were slim.
But what had struck her most wasn't the amount of blood leaked from him, nor the way his breath had come in faltering gasps. It was his eyes.
Even as he bled out in her arms, his small body growing cold. His gaze hadn't been filled with the fear she'd seen in him so many times. No, this time…this time…there was Just… acceptance.
Quiet acceptance
And that had triggered something deep within her.
She couldn't let him go like this.
She had snarled at the herb-man, forcing him to do everything possible, every medicine, strange concoction or just incantations, everything. The elder had protested, insisting the ratling wouldn't survive the night.
But Femi had proved him wrong.
Even now, despite the deathly stillness of his body, he clung to life with a tenacious, stubborn will that impressed her greatly.
Her frown deepened, carving lines of weariness into her face as she leaned closer, the scent of herbs filling her nostrils. She pressed her ear against the cool linen over his chest, just as the herb-man had instructed her to do. To check his heartbeat regularly, to see if he was still alive.
Thump… thump…
A slow, weak rhythm met her ear, as if it would stop at any moment.
A strange tightness coiled in her chest as she pulled the blanket back up, tucking it securely around him. The cold wasn't kind to the wounded.
"Try not to die… Femi," she whispered.
"VARGA!"
Tarlak's voice tore her out of her thoughts and it sounded urgent.
Tarlak, another survivor of the Eri attack, a competent scout and a steady warrior stood at the cabin's entrance, his broad frame blocking it.
She sighed, the weight of leadership pressing down on her once more. After one last lingering look at Femi's still form, she pushed herself to her feet.
"Look after him, pup," she commanded Victim.
"Yipp!" the little wolf responded, its tiny body straightening with purpose, as if it understanding the gravity of the charge.
With a final nod, she turned toward Tarlak, her boots thudding against the wooden floorboards.
"Does he still live?" Tarlak asked, his eyes darting past her to the small bundle on the bed.
"Yes. He does," she replied, sharper than she intended.
Tarlak's mouth quirked in a small grin. "I knew he was strong. He may still have a chance."
"He just may" she answered.
Her patience which was already frayed, wore thinner.
"So, what do you want, Tarlak? I have much to take care of. You'd best be brief."
His expression sobered. "We found something troubling and It needs your attention."
Her fingers twitched. "What did you find?"
Tarlak shook his head. "You have to see it yourself. I don't want to make assumptions. It's... strange."
Another sigh escaped her. She'd been sighing a lot these past few days, ever since Arieus had left her with this damned responsibility.
Her gaze flicked back to Femi one last time before she motioned for Tarlak to lead the way, her cloak swirling around her as she turned.
As they strode toward the camp's entrance, the wind whipping at their faces. She couldn't help but wonder what Femi would say in a moment like this.
Probably something ridiculous and strange.
"My enemies plot against me," he had mutter in that serious way of his, nose twitching as if he could actually smell someone conspiring against him.
The thought almost made her snort.
Come back, little rat.
-------
"I think you've done your job quite well." A feminine voice echoed through the room.
The room itself seemed to hold its breath, after those words as if waiting.
"Hello, Femi, my little rodent." The words seemed to come from all directions at once, wrapping around Femi like threads. He spun around frantically, his claws scraping against the floor as he tried to locate the source. The air itself seemed to vibrate with unseen energy.
"Who are you?" he demanded, his whiskers twitching violently. His brown eyes darted from corner to corner, searching the shadows for any sign of movement.
Outside the window, the world darkened unnaturally fast as if the sun had been snuffed out in an instant.
The demonic woman and her monstrous children, frozen mid-transformation just moments before, now crowded around Femi with grotesque grins before dissolving into wisps of black smoke. Within seconds, he stood alone in the empty room, the fake jollof rice still steaming ominously on the table, its once-appetizing aroma now smelling stale and artificial.
"Come on, little rat," the voice teased, the words dripping with playful condescension. "By now you're supposed to get it."
Femi's fur bristled along his spine. He turned sharply and that's when he felt it. A presence. Something vast. Something Strange. Something directly behind him.
Where the demonic woman had once sat, there now rested a glorious, terrifying figure, but trying to focus on it was like trying to stare directly at the sun. His vision blurred at the edges, his eyes burning with the strain. The figure pulsed with a radiant energy, its form shifting and indistinct, a silhouette of pure light that seemed to exist in multiple dimensions at once
"Ah, don't try to look too hard," the voice warned, its tone laced with amusement.
But the warning came too late for Femi, who was already mesmerized by what he saw, overriding his instincts. As if his mind turned off, filled with only a single, overwhelming thought: He had to see. He needed to know.
His pupils dilated violently as he strained...
...and then his eyes burst.
Blood streamed down his furry face in twin thick rivulets. He screamed in a high-pitched agonized sound that tore at his throat, his claws flying up to cover his ruined eyes.
"My eyes" he shrieked, his voice cracking with pain and utter terror, the coppery taste of blood filling his mouth from where he'd bitten his tongue.
The voice sighed, sounding almost disappointed. "I told you not to look too hard." A pause, filled only with Femi's agonized curses. "I can't quite control what's going on in your mind, so this is the best I can do for now. You won't see my full figure."
Then the glorious figure let out a soft, melodic chuckle. "My beauty is quite blinding."
Femi groaned in pain, his body curling in on itself. "Who are you?" he gasped, forcing himself to keep his eye less gaze lowered. "Are you a new demon that has come to torment me?"
Instead of answering, the voice hummed.
It was a melody unlike anything Femi had ever heard, soothing like the ringing of temple bells. The sound resonated in his bones, stirring something deep within him, something primal. He could feel himself getting lighter, and he felt the pain in his eyes ease before...
"Wait," Femi whispered, his bloodied eyes widening as a memory surfaced through the fog of pain. A memory of a goblin, blue light, a Skeleton wreathed in red aura, his own hand, severed and gone, replaced with... with …. "You're... you're the Mammy Water who gave me my arm after that fight with the... the Skeleton boss in the... the.... That evil Dungeon."
"Ding Ding, correct."
The radiant figure stood, its movements fluid and otherworldly, seeming to glide rather than step, closing the distance until it loomed over Femi's tiny form.
"Yes, I am," the voice confirmed. Then, after a thoughtful pause: "As for my name... hmm... It's not mammy water.... please call me.... Melin, if you will."
Femi stumbled back, his mind just figuring out she appeared before him. He scrambled to put some distance between them, his claws scraping frantically at the floor as he did. For some reason the name of this entity echoed in his skull, unfamiliar yet weighted with meaning, as if it were a key to a lock he couldn't see.
"Melin?" he repeated. "What does that mean?"
The figure tilted its head or at least, Femi thought it did; It was hard to tell when just looking at it made his brain ache.
"It means," Melin said softly, "that you're not in hell, little rat. You're somewhere far more interesting."
Femi's whiskers twitched violently as conflicting emotions warred across his rodent features. His claws dug into the floor, leaving tiny grooves as he weighed his options.
"So," Melin continued, her voice carrying an undercurrent of amusement that suggested she was enjoying his internal struggle, "if you wish to know more about why I brought you here, just follow me."
With an elegant wave of her hand that left trailing, shimmering motes of light dancing in its wake, she gestured toward a door that hadn't existed moments before. It materialized from the very air; its surface carved with intricate patterns that seemed to shift when looked at directly.
Femi's nose wrinkled as he studied the mysterious portal. The wood grain pulsed with a faint, rhythmic light, as if breathing, and the brass doorknob gleamed with an unnatural almost liquid shine. His chest rose and fell rapidly beneath his fur as he considered his next move.
"Okay," he finally conceded, but his voice was laced with suspicion. He lifted a clawed hand, slick with his own blood, to point accusingly at the shifting carvings. "As long as you're not leading me to my death…
...I've had quite enough of dying recently."
Melin's laughter filled the room, the sound somehow both beautiful and unsettling. The walls themselves seemed to shiver in response to her mirth.
"Of course not," she assured him, though her unseen grin widened in a way that suggested she found his suspicion entertaining.
"Come."
As they approached the mysterious door, Femi noticed strange details, the carvings now clearly depicted scenes of rats in various heroic poses, their tiny forms battling monstrous creatures. The brass knob turned on its own with an audible click just before they reached it, swinging inward to reveal a passageway that defied comprehension. The space beyond shimmered like a heat mirage, the walls appearing to be made of liquid gold one moment and solid stone the next.
Melin crossed the threshold without hesitation, her bare feet or the suggestion of it, glided effortlessly over the shifting surface that rippled and solidified momentarily where she stepped before returning to its liquid state.
She turned back to Femi as she extended a hand that pulsed with an eerie inner luminescence. The light cast shifting shadows across the walls, making the carved rat figures appear to move in the flickering glow.
"I will show you something quite interesting," she promised, her voice carrying an undercurrent of excitement that set Femi's fur on end. Her tone suggested she was enjoying some private joke at his expense.
Femi risked another glance at where her face should be and immediately regretted it. Her eyes burned with secrets and playful malice, the irises swirling with impossible colors that defied description. The colors in her irises swirled like oil on water, never settling on a single hue.
"Oh boy, I am a fool," Femi muttered to himself, his whiskers drooping in resignation. The realization hit him like a stone to the head. "Is this not the witch in dreams that takes your soul if you follow them?" His claws dug into deeper in the floor as he fought against the growing urge to flee.
Taking a deep breath that filled his lungs with energy. Femi's mind raced. If Varga was here, she would call me a coward and walk right in, he thought bitterly, imagining his fierce companion's mocking glare.
Despite the fear coiling in his gut, Femi bared his teeth into a wide grin.
"It's a good thing I'm not Varga," he declared aloud, and with that, he spun on his hind legs and launched himself toward the nearest window, his muscles propelling him through the air toward potential freedom.
But before he could even get close to the glass, a heavy sigh echoed through the room, seeming to emanate from the walls, the floor and even the air.
Then an invisible force grabbed hold of Femi mid-leap, yanking him backward through the air with unanswerable force. His claws scraped uselessly against the empty space as he was dragged, flailing and screeching, back toward the glowing doorway.
"I suspected you would do this, little rat," Melin's voice purred with dark amusement. "But unfortunately, you are coming with me whether you like it or not."
"Nooooo!" Femi's screech tore through the air as he writhed against the unseen bonds that held him. His tail lashed wildly, his claws seeking any purchase as he fought with every ounce of his strength. But the pull was inexorable, drawing him closer to that shimmering threshold with each passing second.
The last thing Femi saw before crossing over was the false reality of the house beginning to dissolve like smoke in the wind, the table with its untouched jollof rice fading into nothingness. Whatever lay beyond this threshold, whether wonder or horror, he would be forced to face it against his will as usual.
With one final squeak of protest, Femi was dragged through the doorway into the shifting chaos beyond, the portal snapping shut behind him.