"You know you didn't have to hurt them so badly," Roland said, his voice gentle but edged with concern. He lingered near Katherine, searching her face for any sign of regret.

  Katherine mustered a reassuring smile, though the anxiety gnawed at her beneath the surface. She carefully hid the lingering tremor in her hands, determined not to let Shade sense just how close things had come. His protective instincts ran deep—if he knew the full truth, he would never let her out of his sight again. "I made sure they got healing potions," she replied, her tone light but layered with unspoken tension. She eased herself onto the narrow bed, Shade pressing against her side, his claws unsheathed and twitching restlessly. He radiated a storm of emotions—not anger at the aftermath, but frustration with himself for arriving too late. Shade’s mate had interrupted his hunt to warn him, and Katherine had softened the truth, knowing how easily he could spiral into panic and guilt. The strain flickered between them, palpable in the air.

  Across the cramped cell, Shade's mate paced in tight circles, claws clicking on the stone floor. Her anxious movements betrayed both her unease and her fierce need to protect those she cared about. Katherine watched her, feeling a pang of empathy for the silver panther's agitation—a reminder that their small family was always under threat.

  Shade had secured Katherine's bag of treats with a few well-timed growls when the guards tried to confiscate it, a gesture that lent her comfort now. The mana-rich diet she and Shade had shared during their recovery had left him both stronger and more imposing. From the bag, Katherine retrieved a small orb, the one used to empower the illusions Shade’s mate conjured. She clicked her tongue gently to reassure the panther, extending the orb and a few pieces of meat with a soft smile. Shade’s mate stiffened, then accepted the treat, crunching the orb with a satisfying crack that seemed to ease her nerves, if only slightly.

  The cell door creaked open with a metallic groan, breaking the tension. A familiar voice filtered in, casual but carrying an undertone of amusement: "You seem to be in a tight spot."

  Katherine looked up, her heart skipping a beat as she saw Eli in the doorway.

  Roland's eyes widened in surprise, his wariness momentarily eclipsed by curiosity. "Eli? What are you doing here?" he asked, stepping forward but keeping a protective distance from Katherine.

  Eli shrugged, his posture relaxed but his gaze sharp. "Guard owed me a favor," he said, flashing a crooked smile as if slipping in and out of cells was nothing new. Beneath the surface, though, a subtle tension played across his features—an edge of calculation that Katherine had learned to watch for.

  A flicker of unease passed through Katherine, lingering just beyond conscious thought. She remembered their first meeting in the women’s facilities and how Eli always seemed to operate with one eye on an exit. Roland began to speak, "I'm sure it was worth—"

  Katherine cut him off with a gentle but firm, "Shade, if you don't mind," patting Shade’s flank in encouragement. Her voice carried an undercurrent of authority, signaling to both men and panthers that she was taking charge.

  As Shade and his mate approached Eli, their claws clicked in deliberate rhythm, a warning and an assessment. Shade reached Eli first, sniffing him with clear suspicion.

  Do you know this human? Shade’s mate asked, her mental voice sharp and wary as she circled Eli, nose twitching with each breath.

  In a manner of speaking, Shade replied, communicating through their private link. He smells off. Not quite human, he added, uncertainty threading through his bond with Katherine.

  Katherine rose from the bed, steadying herself with Roland's arm—her cane still confiscated by the guards. Shade's mate sniffed Eli again, this time a low growl rumbling from her throat, a clear warning.

  I smell blood. This one has hunted, she informed Shade, tense and alert. Suddenly, she reared up, pressing Eli to the ground with surprising force, her eyes never leaving his face.

  Katherine watched the encounter, her nerves humming. She leaned closer to Roland; voice pitched low but laced with dry humor. "In this town, caution isn't just a virtue—it's survival. Double-checking never hurts," she quipped, masking her underlying anxiety with wit. Then, patting Roland’s stomach, she added in a whisper as the guards’ footsteps echoed down the hall, "You can put me down now. Wouldn’t want the guards to think we’re staging a jailbreak."

  ...

  The guard captain descended the stairs, boots echoing against stone, with a surprised Abbie following close behind. At the bottom, Shade’s mate pinned a visibly nervous Eli to the floor. Abbie raised an eyebrow, her tone incredulous as she addressed him, “Eli, what do you think you're doing here?”

  Eli lay sprawled on the cold floor, giving a nervous smile while Shade’s mate’s massive paw pressed firmly against his chest. Her breath was warm and uncomfortably close to his face. “I was trying to get them out before anyone noticed,” Eli admitted, voice wavering. “I heard they’d been taken into custody by the guard. One of them owed me a favor from the old days, so I cashed it in—figured they could be home in time for supper.”

  The guard captain fixed Eli with a stern look, eyes narrowed. “You do know that helping people escape from a cell without proper authorization is a crime, right, young man?”

  Eli fidgeted, glancing at the panther’s paw as he tried to free himself. “Oh, come on, Neil; you know I wouldn’t have been caught. If it wasn’t for me pruning the Ribwort bushes, I doubt Shade’s mate would want to eat me—though the slobber near my ear suggests otherwise.” Eli shuddered as the panther’s hot breath tickled his skin.

  Shade glanced at Katherine, who gave him a subtle nod. With a soft chuff, Shade signaled to his mate, and she backed off, the pressure lifting from Eli’s chest as he scrambled to his feet, brushing fur from his shirt.

  The guard captain said, “This isn’t like you, Eli. As it is the first time that I can recall, you are free to go. Do something like this again and I’ll clap you in irons.”

  Eli gave a quick nod, relief washing over his face before he bolted from the cell, footsteps fading rapidly.

  Katherine started, her voice laced with a playful edge, “Just so you know, if you don’t have anything to keep people in, I probably could’ve walked out of here.” She hoped that would help Eli’s case a little, pointing to the shadow in the corner of the cell. Her fingers lingered on the wall, feeling the cool stone as she spoke.

  The guard captain gestured for them to follow, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “If you’re trying to help his case, it’s not working.”

  Katherine sighed, shifting her weight as a twinge of discomfort ran through her leg. I hate this is going to make me sound old, she thought. “Hey, does anybody have my cane?” she asked, her voice hopeful, missing the familiar weight in her hand.

  The captain explained to Katherine that she couldn’t use her familiar to trail suspects or extract information from them, since—unlike in her world—such evidence wouldn’t hold up in court. Katherine tried to listen seriously, but all she caught was the captain’s name, which sounded suspiciously like “Kneel and blow me.” Stifling a fit of laughter, she forced herself to focus on the matter at hand.

  At least there was one promising clue: their would-be attackers all carried matching items.

  Katherine turned the token over in her palm. Forged from a heavy, dark metal, it was smooth and unadorned, save for a single inscription that caught the light.

  [Item] Membership Token

  Allows entrance into a certain guild, organization, or similar group.

  Roland glanced at Katherine and then handed the token back to the captain—whom Katherine still referred to as Captain Blow Me in her mind. “I’m not sure who would come after us,” he admitted. “It’s no secret in certain circles that I work for the duke and have no plans to leave.”

  Katherine shrugged. “As for me, I’m not important enough to be a target. I mostly keep to myself. Only the people I live and work with—and Duke Osric’s immediate family—know who I am or what I can do. Everything I know is right here in this room.”

  Shade, impatient for attention, placed a heavy paw on the captain’s desk, his eyes searching for a treat. Katherine gave him a gentle nudge. “Shade, get down,” she chided, the panther’s claws leaving faint scratches on the wood.

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  Finally, the captain relented with a sigh. “Alright, since I can’t keep you here, I recommend you be careful,” he said, dismissing them with a wave.

  ...

  In a dark and dreary tavern thick with the scent of stale ale and smoke, a cloaked figure nursed a battered tankard at a shadowy corner table. The flicker of lantern light barely touched his hooded face as he waited, listening to the distant murmur of voices and the scrape of boots across warped floorboards.

  Another figure, equally shrouded in a heavy cloak, slipped quietly into the seat opposite him. The first man looked up, his gaze sharp beneath the hood. "You’re late," he said, voice low and rough.

  The newcomer pulled their hood tighter, shrugging off the accusation. "You should’ve warned me the target wasn’t alone," they replied, irritation clear in their tone.

  The first figure’s lips curled into a sneer. "I told you as soon as I heard about the dark one’s existence," he muttered, fingers drumming against the tankard.

  "True," the second agreed, their voice edged with frustration. "But your informant neglected to mention there was a second companion."

  The first leaned forward, interest piqued. "A second one?" he echoed.

  "Apparently, there’s another—and she has a pet capable of casting incredibly convincing illusions," the second replied, glancing around the dim room as if expecting shadows to jump. "She’s going to be harder to capture than gold from a dragon’s hoard. That is, if she doesn’t have a dragon hidden away too."

  ...

  Katherine turned off the incubator as the egg inside began to tremble. A spark of excitement lit her voice. “It’s starting to hatch.” Yet beneath her words, her heart pounded—each tiny shudder of the shell sent a pulse of hope and anxiety racing through her veins. She found herself holding her breath, afraid even to blink for fear of missing a miracle. It was as if time itself paused, the world narrowing to the egg and the possibility it held.

  She had moved the incubator to the common room so Roland could watch the event unfold. Shade’s jealousy hadn’t faded since his cub days; leaving him in her room gave him some much-needed alone time with his mate. Curiosity tugged at Katherine—what did the panthers do behind closed doors?—but some mysteries, especially those involving possessive panthers, were best left unsolved, and she quickly refocused on the hatching egg.

  Since buying the egg, Katherine had regularly infused it with her mana to sustain it—a ritual that had become comfortingly constant. A mana crystal collected and stored the energy, allowing it to be added gradually as the egg neared hatching. At first, the egg was ostrich-sized and unremarkable, giving off no scent. Now, with each passing moment, the air in the room thickened—electric, heavy, and tinged with the scent of oncoming rain, as if a thunderstorm was gathering indoors. The egg’s shell had darkened to a stormy gray, streaked with blue and white lines that flashed like living lightning. Sparks leapt across the shell, and every so often, the whole thing rattled as if thunder roared within. The tension in the room was palpable, making Katherine’s skin prickle with anticipation.

  The room fell silent, the expectant hush broken only by the soft crack of shell. A tiny beak poked through, followed by a wedge-shaped head. Katherine’s breath caught—tears pricked her eyes, awe and wonder mingling with a sudden, irrational fear that anything might disturb this fragile, perfect moment. The hatchling’s high-pitched squeak rang out, and as the shell split wider, a hand-sized creature emerged, immediately nibbling on the fragments of its own shell. Tiny arcs of blue lightning danced across its scales as it chirped again, its eyes brilliant and wild, reflecting the lantern light with flashes of untamed energy.

  “It’s eating its shell,” Katherine murmured, unable to hide the trembling in her voice. Wonder and confusion tumbled together—she felt small before this new life, responsible, exhilarated, and terrified all at once. “Is that normal?”

  Roland nodded, his own excitement shining through. “Most egg-born creatures do. The shell is packed with energy to jump-start their growth.” His eyes shone with both knowledge and delight—like someone receiving an unexpected gift.

  Abbie, hovering nearby, chimed in before Katherine could ask for more. “That’s a storm drake, at least. How did you not recognize it, Katie?”

  Katherine hesitated, a flush creeping up her cheeks. She recalled her studies and her monster lore; the creature’s appearance and the egg’s transformation suggested draconic origins, but not exactly a drake. Storm affinity seemed likely—Abbie was probably right about that—but Katherine knew there were stranger affinities out there, and she wasn’t ready to contradict Abbie in front of everyone or reveal her own uncertainty. She kept her doubts to herself, determined not to spoil the sense of wonder or draw attention to what she didn’t know.

  “What should I do now?” she asked, uncertainty creeping into her voice, betraying how much this moment meant to her—the culmination of weeks of hope and quiet fear that she wouldn’t be enough for the little creature.

  Roland grinned encouragingly. “After all the time and energy you spent, you bond with it.”

  Nervous anticipation fluttered in Katherine’s chest; her hand hovered, trembling, as she reached out—not just from nerves, but from the weight of what this bond might mean. Was she ready for the responsibility, for the unknown future this little life represented? She summoned her courage, intending to gently poke one of the creature’s stubby legs. Instead, her finger brushed its side. Instantly, a jolt of electricity shot through her, making her hair stand on end in a wild halo. “Ow!” she exclaimed, blinking away dark spots, but the pain was almost a relief—proof that the experience was real. Despite the sting, a reluctant smile tugged at her lips, laughter bubbling up against her will.

  Roland tried—and failed—to hide his amusement. “Did you bond with it?” he asked, voice light with humor.

  “Not yet,” Katherine replied, steadying herself with a deep breath. “Maybe after it finishes the shell.”

  Soon, the creature devoured the last bits, leaving nothing behind. Its awkward, serpentine neck wobbled like a bobblehead—almost comical in contrast to the magical lightning that flickered along its scales. Katherine tried again, this time offering a gold coin in her open palm, her movements slow and deliberate as hope and anxiety warred inside her.

  The creature peered at the coin, considering. Katherine repeated a silent mantra: Don’t shock me, don’t shock me, don’t shock me. The inevitable happened—a small static jolt, gentler than before, made her yelp and drop the coin. The creature pounced, cradling the gold between its four legs as it gnawed playfully at the metal, its tail flicking with satisfaction.

  Katherine steadied her nerves and extended her aura, reaching out to the creature’s mind. She pressed gently, meeting resistance—a wild, electric energy that was eager, indomitable, and untamed, much like Katherine herself, though she always seemed calm on the surface. She realized, with a thrill of possibility and a tinge of fear, that the creature’s spirit would never be truly conquered, no matter how strong the bond. In that instant, awe overwhelmed her: she was witnessing destiny unfolding, and she was a part of it. The magic between them finally clicked into place, and Katherine knew—deep in her bones—that nothing would ever be the same.

  “Well, that was unexpected,” Katherine remarked, with a devious look that told everyone that she was up to something. "I can say it is not a drake."

  ...

  Lira had scoured the city for any sign of Katherine. When Lira heard that Katherine and Roland had been taken in by the guard, she rushed over, only to be told they had already been released. Frustration gnawed at her—every false lead only fueled her anxiety, thoughts racing with worst-case scenarios.

  She tried the guild next. Even though Katherine wasn’t physically capable right now, she’d shown interest before; maybe she’d signed up just to get her name on the roster, waiting for Arnold’s approval before taking jobs. Lira lingered for a moment, hoping for a clue, but found none.

  The sky above was a clear blue, barely a cloud in sight, yet the distant thunder startled Lira, echoing unnaturally around her. She rolled her eyes, muttering, “How many times do people need to be told? Storm magic shouldn’t be practiced in the city.” The urge to bolt through the streets to find Katherine was overwhelming, her heart pounding as she imagined her friend wandering somewhere, vulnerable. “Damn it, Kat. You can only hobble with that cane Arnold gave you—how far could you possibly have gone?” she thought, irritation and worry tangled together.

  Suddenly, the roar of the colosseum crowd was drowned out by a blinding flash of lightning and the loudest clap of thunder Lira had ever heard. Her breath caught as she scanned the arena’s direction, pulse quickening with dread and curiosity.

  What was that, folks? It looks like our newcomer has the very skies at her command, Lira heard the announcer’s voice echo, excitement bleeding into awe. It’s not often we find a tamer in our midst, but this seems Bastet herself… The rest was lost to another deafening crash and flash, momentarily blinding Lira. By the gods, if I didn’t know better, we might have guessed a prophet was in our arena.

  Determined, Lira quickened her pace, still searching for Katherine. She knew her friend enjoyed watching the arena fights but doubted she’d go alone—especially after Corin had taken her once, and probably wouldn’t again soon. Doubt flickered; had she missed an obvious clue?

  You should have recruited her like you were told, child, came the raspy voice of her patron, more patronizing than usual. Power hated being denied, and its words dripped with both annoyance and authority. I applaud your loyalty to those you think are your allies, but we both know you don’t have true allies—our pact ensures that. The patron’s reminder stung, a cruel truth she tried to ignore. Let’s see if this can’t give you proper motivation.

  Lira froze mid-step as an icy sensation swept through her. She gasped, realizing something vital had been stripped away—her magic.

  Skill [Enact Hex] has been temporarily revoked by your patron. You are no longer able to produce this kind of magic until your patron restores it.

  Skill [Enact Charm] has been temporarily revoked by your patron. You are no longer able to produce this kind of magic until your patron restores it.

  Lira shivered, recalling the terms of her pact—her magic was never truly her own, always subject to the High One’s whims. But why was her patron so obsessed with Katherine? What secret, what power, could possibly lie hidden within her friend?

  I give you one day. One day for her to meet members of the coven. If that doesn’t happen... Well, deathwalkers as you know are so...fragile.

  Lira darted into a nearby alley, drawing angry shouts from city-goers as she cut them off. She needed to commune with her patron, desperate for answers. Why do you want her so desperately, High One? She’s only another mortal. Lira pressed the question through their mental link, hoping for clarity.

  Simple, child. The dead should stay dead. The patron’s reply was sharp and possessive, a hint of past grievance in its tone, making Lira wonder if Katherine had slipped beyond its reach before she’d ever met her.