Their pulses are thready.Weak. Too close to death for comfort.
Movement ahead draws my attention from my unconscious companions. My enhanced vision picks out a small figure standing perhaps thirty feet away, facing what appears to be a wall of pure magical energy. The barrier pulses with internal fire, creating the only source of light in this oppressive realm—though calling it light seems generous. It's more like watching flames through black glass, muted and wrong.
The figure is a child. A boy, no more than six or seven in appearance. But appearance means nothing here.
I rise slowly, careful not to make sudden movements. My motion draws his attention, and he turns to face me with a pout that would be adorable on an actual child.
On this being, it's disconcerting.
He points at me with one small finger, accusation clear in the gesture.
"Feline shifters have been a pain all through the centuries."
His voice carries weight beyond its childish timber. Ancient irritation compressed into a boy's vocal cords. I've heard similar tones from beings who predate human civilization, who watched empires rise and fall with the same mild annoyance most people reserve for seasonal allergies.
I allow myself a small smirk, the expression feeling strange on features tight with environmental stress.
"But you can't deny our loyalty, can you?"
The boy frowns, clearly wanting to argue but unable to dispute the truth.
Cats, for all our perceived independence, are perhaps the most loyal of all shifters when we choose to be. We simply don't give that loyalty easily or often.
When he doesn't immediately respond, I know I've scored a point. He looks away, muttering with childish petulance that doesn't match the ancient calculation in his eyes.
"Why are you an ally to my sister?"
Sister.
The pieces click into place with almost audible precision. This must be Gabriel—the real sibling hidden within Gwenivere.The one who revealed himself before everything went to hell.
The one who warned us, in his own twisted way.
I consider the question carefully. In this place, surrounded by darkness that could crush us all with a thought, honesty seems the only viable currency.
"Gwenivere didn't see me as a tool," I say, letting genuine emotion color my words. "In all my time at the academy, she was the first to look at me and see a person rather than a useful ability to be exploited."
The memories surface unbidden. Years of being passed between powerful beings, each one seeing only what I could do for them. Transformation here, information there.
Always the tool and never the craftsman. Until her…
"She offered friendship. Companionship. Not because of how I could be deemed useful in a realm of wicked survival, but simply because she thought I deserved it." I meet his impossible eyes directly. "So yes, she has earned the righteousness of my loyalty. Which is why I will stand by her side."
Child Gabriel tilts his head, considering.
When he speaks, his question cuts to the heart of something I've already considered and dismissed.
"Even if she ends up being the villain in this story?"
My smile comes easier this time, carrying a truth that surprises even me.
"It would be nice to see the villain win for once, don't you think?"
The question hangs between us, weighted with implications neither of us voice.
How many stories end with the hero triumphant and the complex, damaged antagonist destroyed? How many times have we watched someone labeled 'evil' fall because they couldn't fit into neat moral categories?
Gabriel huffs, the sound perfectly childish despite the ancient mind behind it.
