Nerisity was finally sleeping.

  In the beginning, she found it hard to get any rest in the cold and dampness of the cell. But she was so drained of energy and hope that sleep came quickly. Her back pained terribly from the increased weight of her stomach and the child, the wondrous child that charged into her life. And indeed, the child was wondrous. She would not see out the end of the this month before the child's birth.

  Nerisity had found herself smiling when thinking of the baby. She knew that she was too young to be a truly efficient mother. But with the care system by Margret and her friends of the Night Tavern, Nerisity felt reassured. Accidental children were a common occurrence in the Night Taverns before Margret and her family came to manage them. They would be more than prepared.

  The Belle Dame, who revealed her name to be Margret, was doting and caring. A feat that was admirable for a place such as this. She ensured Nerisity was seen to with extra bedding that she managed without, extra portions of her meals to be handed to Nerisity, despite her own diminishing strength and health.

  Nerisity objected to each and every offer, for it would diminish Margret’s comfort, but relented as she was fixed by the stern look of her guardian. And the baby was taking all her strength and will. It was a miracle, as Doctor Hacker had called it.

  Nerisity had spent enough time in the Silverstreak Night Tavern to see Nightwomen come to full terms with their babies, if they allowed themselves to be pregnant. Eight to nine months, that would be it.

  Not even a week for her and her body seemed ripe for the birth. She had asked Margret the meaning for it. Perhaps she had seen this before. But even she had not, it was unheard of. Getting nowhere with such questions with no definitive answers, Margret told her to rest and to attempt to hold off this fever that had settled in her. Being careful not to allow her hands anywhere near Nerisity’s stomach, Margret had guided the pregnant girl back to her cot after her daily exercise to avoid bedsores. They had some light to work with, thanks to the sconces which lined the cells’ corridor.

  While she moved, they talked about the names they could give the child when she came to term. If they were a girl, Nerisity wanted to call her ‘Helia’.

  That was the Paratellen dialect for the sun as Nerisity herself originated from the merchant city. And if the baby turned out to be a boy, then she would happily name him ‘Raphael’. The name of the hero in her favourite fantasy novel growing up: White Horse, Green Serpent. The noble hero Raphael, riding upon a white horse born from the clouds with a spear and shield in hand, charging down a demonic serpent bent on the world’s destruction. All to save a princess he loved.

  There would be many days where Nerisity found herself fantasising that she were the princess, locked in a tower of misery with no escape. Only for the hero that she waited for would come. And a hero did come, for a short and happy time. Arcos was that hero to her, as naive as that sounded.

  Nerisity appreciated the rest Margret insisted upon. But she did not appreciate the heat that came with this fever harassing her. This fever was a gradual heat, a heat that seemed to build from her core, in her womb, before pushing through her chest and into her mind. It spun her mind and made her go off-balance on her feet more times than she cared for. The fever was also consistent. It would regress and fall down within her body like the ocean tide before returning with equal speed. She wondered that maybe it was the baby’s presence. Maybe the baby’s life-force pushing through with such vitality that her flesh could not hold it all in.

  Worshippers of the Healer believe that a baby within the womb of any mother, be it human or animal, holds great power that would even rival those of the Marked. The power of the Healer’s influence, gave the essential requirements for a birth to occur. Maybe that was the fever Nerisity felt and if it was, she really did not like it.

  Before she fell asleep, Nerisity soothed herself by stroking her distended stomach. She pictured what the baby would look like.

  Would they have red hair like her? Or blonde like him? Their blue eyes or some other colour? Would they be temperamental and brooding? Or maybe they… would… be…

  She smiled as the exhaustion finally swooped through and brought her to a deep rest.

  And once again, for the sixth sleep in a row, Nerisity was back in the same dream.

  She opened her eyes to find herself again standing on a solid bank of cloud. She walked forward and felt the clouds solidify into an impossible stone-like platform.

  Before her was the open sky with the expanse of the cosmos stretching into infinity. She would expect to be blinded by the sun that sat on the horizon, as it was seated on the same cloud bank as her.

  But something was wrong, as always. The sun was blotted out. Blotted out by that great mass of darkness. Not an eclipse from the moon. But true and encompassing darkness.

  Nerisity squinted at the thing as she would grow to hate each time. The darkness was a writhing mass of shadowy tendrils that constricted the ball of flame, snuffing out the fire’s light in every way it could. The darkness moved with an eerie sentience, as if it were alive. As if it were starved of light and demanded to have its cosmic meal.

  The sun would fight with all its power to try and break the darkness’ hold, but would fail. The light would falter and the night would draw in with each passing moment.

  Nerisity could not explain the draw she felt towards the sun’s helplessness. She just felt she had to do something. Anything to save the light. So she ran. She ran until she was committed to a dead sprint. She just had to get there. She just had to save the sun, the fire. The fire that she felt was attempting to nourish her and everything she loved.

  But as she drew closer and closer, the warmth was taken over by a coldness that she was certain the darkness was emitting.

  And as she was only three-quarters of the way, someone would stop her.

  The figure, wreathed in bindings of shadow and armour of clotted blood, would explode from the clouds with an ungodly screech before her. A pair of leathery, tattered wings would spread from their back, with barbed bone horns on their ends. A lank and dank length of ashen hair would hide their face, but Nerisity sensed that they were a male, hinted by the two gnarled claws with ten red-tipped talons that acted as his hands and the deep cackle of laughter from his mouth. The ashen-hair monster would loom over her and Nerisity would feel primal fear. A fear that prey would feel for an apex predator.

  But she would also feel deep-set rage. She felt that rage in her stomach, in her womb where her child in the world of the awake was. She felt such anger that it burned her eyes with heat.

  There was something that this thing had done that she considered inexcusable. Something so vile and cruel and monstrous, she couldn’t help but feel no empathy for him. That was the reason for her boiling rage.

  And that rage would propel her feet forward. With a warrior’s cry, Nerisity hurled herself at the winged demon who cackled his cold laugh.

  With a second of movement, the monster darted and Nerisity felt an ice-cold claw on her throat.

  She felt herself be lifted from the ground as she fought to break the hold that was more stone than flesh.

  The creature threw back his head and clacked out another dust-laden laugh. The hair fell back a step, revealing a black-lipped mouth bordered by cracked chalk-white skin. And in-between those lips were the fangs. Two rows of crimson fangs, once white but puckered with that deep sanguine by the bloodstains. Four particular fangs, two on either row in opposing positions, were longer and sharper than the rest. A black forked tongue skittered over and around his teeth like a worm.

  Foolish Incarnate. The creature hissed. His voice was dreadfully old, broken, worn, and haggard, but filled with such an evil strength that it threatened to snap the air around them like a broken twig.

  Fire may burn back Shadow. But Fire must feed. Fire must burn to live. Fire cannot last. Shadow need not food, nor rest, nor shelter. Shadow is the cold canopy which overlaps Life and Love and Hope. Shadow ends Reason. Shadow embraces all. Shadow is Eternal.

  You will die here. In Darkness. In Shadow. It is cold. You can sleep in Cold. Your Ancestor failed to end me. The Black’s Children failed to end me.

  Nerisity fixed him with a glare. She refused to let this apparition frighten her. He was only a nightmare. Just another bad memory amidst the army of bad thoughts that Nerisity kept at bay by her willpower.

  The creature cocked his head and his cruel smile would haunt Nerisity for hours on end.

  Oh… You think you have suffered so much that nothing can hurt you anymore? Not only foolish but also blind, Incarnate. I am afraid you are sorely mistaken… Life has a way— a habit really— of breaking the strong.

  There is Pain. There is Sorrow. There is Suffering… And then, there is Agony.

  And when you feel the Agony, and it will come on swift blackhearted wings, you will beg for my Shadows to hide you from it.

  Nerisity screamed at him.

  The creature laughed once more before he flicked the wrist of his claw holding her neck. There was a snap. And Nerisity lost all feeling in her body as he broke her neck. Her arms, legs, and body would all go numb.

  The creature dropped her onto the cloud floor, letting her roll to her back so she would helplessly watch on as the creature brought up his bare foot, also clawed with red talons, to crush her head.

  She closed her eyes, preparing for the end.

  And the end did not come. What came instead was a blast of heat and a whooshing swing of steel.

  Nerisity opened her eyes.

  The creature had darted away, skidding back with a wary hiss through gritted fangs.

  And standing over her were two humans.

  One she recognised instantly. Arcos’s hair was a pale white with flecks of black, but his tall body and clothes were the same that she recalled on the days he would visit her in the tavern. In his gloved hands were two swords. One of silver and one of midnight black. Both of them glowed a Marked-like Essence that Nerisity felt in her mind like a soothing balm.

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  The other human, she did not recognise.

  The young girl was tall like Arcos but her hair was bright coloured like sun-tanned copper or red sand. She wore a set of leather armour that moved with expertly-stitched ease over the joints in her body as she stood by Arcos. And her hands… they were on fire. But not in such a way that her skin burned and melted. No. The fire was coming out from her hands. The fire was her.

  Don’t you fucking dare. Nerisity would hear Arcos snarl at the monster.

  Both Arcos and the girl charged as one towards the demon. Nerisity struggled to move but she could only watch on as Arcos and her other mysterious saviour leapt for the fanged enemy-

  And Nerisity would wake up with a flick of opening eyelids.

  For hours into each morning, Nerisity would rack her weary brain over the meaning of the lucid dream. Was it a metaphor for the dangers she was in? Was it a premonition of an event that she would play a part in?

  Who was the creature who seemed so familiar with her? Why did he refer to her as ‘Incarnate’? What did that even mean? And who was the young girl that fought beside Arcos?

  So many questions unanswered, and she knew that with each dive into the dream, she would feel the same fear and the same anger. Over and over again.

  Nerisity had considered that. Maybe it was the dream’s way to tell her something, and once she had understood it, the dream would be over…

  But this sixth awakening was not a peaceful rouse as before. Nerisity felt her body shake, and her eyes shot open to see a worried expression on Margret’s face, with her hands on her shoulders.

  “What is it?” Nerisity asked as she carefully pushed herself up. “What time is it?”

  “It’s only been an hour, starling.” Margret whispered. “Get up. Someone’s coming.”

  Nerisity listened, and indeed she could hear footfalls. Not just one person; there was a group.

  Dread and panic filled her. Hacker was not alone. He had made it so that only he would come visit her and Margret. This was to protect her secret. If he was with someone, they would find out.

  Margret grabbed the rag of a bed cover from the cot and yanked it out from under Nerisity.

  “Wrap this around you! Hurry!” She hissed as she threw the cover over Nerisity’s shoulders. “Hide your belly!”

  Nerisity obeyed and instantly adopted the disguise as the footsteps grew louder and louder, and a light from lit torches brightened the dimly lit cell. Both Margret and Nerisity looked up with wide eyes as Hacker limped into view.

  Limped.

  Nerisity stared in horror at Hacker’s battered face, blood dripping from his cracked mouth and nose. His eyeglasses were askew on his nose, and his eyes were bleary. What the hells had happened?

  He was pushed ahead, nearly causing him to fall to his knees, by the three others who followed in his wake.

  Hildur Blackheart strode into view, flanked by two Bodyhunters.

  The sight of that woman, grinning with a cold malice in those eyes, gave Nerisity a sharp twinge of terror that she audibly gasped. The female Bodyhunter haunted her thoughts nearly as much as the demon from her dream.

  Nerisity remembered the cruel smile she had when she reported her successful killing of Marvis back in Silverstreak. A good man who deserved mercy. Nerisity despised how Blackheart laughed about it on the Southern road to the Fortress. She joked that she should have dragged him back and made him run again for target practice. Target practice, as if Marvis was a hare to be hunted.

  And now that woman, as she stood by Hacker on the other side of the cell door, was staring right at Nerisity.

  Nerisity felt her body freeze. She did not like how Blackheart stared her down.

  “Open it.” Blackheart ordered with a sharp nod. One of the Bodyhunters fished out an iron ring of many keys, expertly selected one with the plethora of rusted keys and deftly unlocked the cell door with a clank. The gate swung on creaking, dry hinges, making a keening sound that scratched both the air and Nerisity’s teeth.

  Blackheart grabbed Hacker by the back of his neck and forced him into the cell, followed by the Bodyhunters.

  “What the hells are you doing here??” Margret demanded. “We’re in quarantine! No one’s allowed in here but Doctor-”

  With a flash of speed honed by years of training, Blackheart lashed out her free hand and struck Margret across the face with a snap of leather glove on pallid flesh. Nerisity yelped in shock as Margret was sent to the stone floor with a garbled curse. Margret lay there on her knees, holding her mouth as blood and spit dribbled from between her fingers.

  “Silence, you old whore.” Blackheart cooed sweetly. Then she turned her gaze on Nerisity. “Someone’s been very naughty.” Nerisity watched the Bodyhunter’s eyes travel from her face and down towards her stomach. “You’ve been keeping secrets…”

  Nerisity paled and sweat seeped from her neck and back. No. Gods. No. She knows. She knows.

  “You bitch…” Margret hissed. “You soulless, evil…”

  “Get her up.” Blackheart clicked her fingers.

  The Bodyhunters rushed for Margret. Margret scrabbled to her feet before they fell upon her. Screaming and kicking, Margret fought with all her strength. She kicked her feet into the two men’s shins and spat bloodied saliva at their faces. They lifted her to her feet regardless, their strength overwhelming her.

  Blackheart tutted. She threw down Hacker to his knees, quickly approached Margret and slammed a fist into the woman’s stomach. Hacker looked away in fear and disgust.

  Margret doubled over and coughed badly, gasping for the air that was driven from her gut. She would have fallen, had it not been for the Bodyhunters holding up her arms.

  Nerisity lurched at Blackheart, if only from the cot for a second before falling back down on it. Gods, she wanted to tear that bitch’s throat out but she was too fucking weak.

  “Stop it! Leave her alone!” She begged, her voice rasped against her screams.

  Blackheart grabbed Margret by the chin roughly and held her up to her own face. Blackheart’s face remained cordial and sweet with no anger in those deranged eyes.

  “I don’t need your eyes, nose or mouth to get this done.” She said calmly. “Continue to aggravate me in my duty…” Blackheart drew out a long hunting knife from her hip’s sheath. It was serrated on one side and she placed the sharp tip on Margret’s face, just centimetres below her left eye. “Then I will make sport of your face. Have some dignity and compose yourself.”

  Margret blinked as she spat out words amidst her gasps. “Get… what… done?”

  “Exactly.” Blackheart grinned. She sheathed her hunting knife, turned her head towards Nerisity and hissed at her. “Strip.”

  Nerisity blinked dumbly. “What?”

  Blackheart rolled her eyes. “Strip, whore. Take off your dress, your undergarments, your garters and your knickers. Do it now. Or I will do it for you.”

  Nerisity looked towards Hacker, seeking any explanation for this. Hacker just stared at the floor, hope dashed from his eyes.

  Then she looked to Margret, her guardian and dear friend. Margret stared at Nerisity and continued shaking her head.

  “Any time now, Nightgirl.” Blackheart said. She tapped her index finger on the hilt of her dagger.

  Nerisity swallowed. Then she slowly pulled away her cover, revealing her swollen belly.

  Blackheart raised her eyebrows. “Well, it is true then. You’re quite fat. Certainly approaching your term…”

  Nerisity shuddered under the gaze Blackheart laid on her. She felt exposed and vulnerable, even with her clothes on.

  With shuddering breaths and tears forming in her eyes, eyes burning from embarrassment, Nerisity slowly began to disrobe herself.

  She took off her dress, slipping her arms out from the sleeves. With each piece of shedded clothing, Nerisity felt her strength, dignity, and power being ripped from her. It was one thing for a Nightwoman or Nightman to disrobe in front of a client before lovemaking. It was the power of choice that the Nightperson had. The control of their own body, to choose when they would bare both flesh and soul to their selected partner. But not this. This was a violation that threatened to shatter Nerisity’s soul.

  She worked off the undergarments, pulling the pant legs free with the two garters until she was only in her silk bra and knickers, with her exposed belly bared to all.

  Blackheart watched her undress with some vague level of interest while the two male Bodyhunters grinned with heated breaths. She appraised Nerisity’s swollen breasts, which now showed a pair of small wet patches in the fabric, signalling the beginning of her lactation.

  “Hmm. I’ve seen better.” Blackheart noted dismissively, provoking a laugh from the two men at her back.

  Nerisity felt shame. Sickening humiliation. Abject horror.

  The only other person to see her in such a state was Arcos. And it was only for him. Her naked body was for his eyes to see. No one else had the right, especially not the vile woman standing before her or the clearly aroused thugs at her back.

  Anger. Rage. Indignation. So many burning feelings coursed through her, matched only by the humiliation, feelings that Nerisity now had trouble holding back.

  Margret was crying. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she stared with hopelessness. Hacker refused to look at her.

  Nerisity gritted her teeth and began to take off her bra. But Blackheart clucked her mouth.

  “I said knickers, idiot. Not bra.”

  Nerisity paused for a moment. Confusion wove through her. Then a deepening horror as she flicked her terrified eyes at the two male Bodyhunters. Gods, surely they don’t mean to…

  As if she were reading Nerisity’s thoughts or her expression, Blackheart sighed.

  “No, you stupid sow. We have no intention of that… We need your clothes cleared away so that they do not get soiled by the procedure. I will not waste washing oils on someone like you. Now, for the last time… Knickers, off.” She snapped her fingers.

  Nerisity obeyed and finally, with shaking hands, yanked off her knickers. Dangerously exposed, she quickly closed up her legs and wrapped her arms around her breasts and belly, driven by instinct to protect both herself and her baby. She felt stinging in her eyes as angry tears dribbled down her face. She glared hatefully at Blackheart who gave no reaction to her pained fury. The woman seemed not to care in the slightest.

  Blackheart stepped forward. “Finally.” She said with a sigh, driven by boredom. And in a flash of the same speed that struck Margret, Blackheart lunged for Nerisity.

  Nerisity cried out in alarm as Blackheart latched her vice-like grips on Nerisity’s wrists, wrenched them away from her belly and forced her back down onto the cot.

  A desperate panic flooded through Nerisity. “No! Get off me! Get off me!” She bucked and kicked and struggled. But Blackheart displayed hidden strength that Nerisity had no chance of fighting against. The woman effortlessly held her down.

  “Get that Marked over here!” Blackheart snapped over her shoulder. The Bodyhunters, no longer smiling but grimacing, began to drag Margret over to the cot. Blackheart shifted her body around, still keeping Nerisity held in place, but allowing a space to open up before her belly.

  Both Nerisity and Margret realised at the same time what was happening.

  Take off your dress. Not get soiled by the procedure. Get that Marked over here.

  Nerisity’s eyes seemed to grow wider than Margret’s own as she recalled Blackheart's words. She whipped her head towards Hacker, who stared back at her, eyes levelled with her as he remained on his knees.

  “I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” he whimpered over and over, with fresh tears dripping down.

  Extreme terror gripped her soul as the truth of her situation twisted into her mind.

  Not her baby. Not her baby! No. Gods no!

  “No. No, no, no, no!” Nerisity yelled and begged. She thrashed as Margret was brought beside the cot and forced down on her knees.

  The Bodyhunters then proceeded to struggle to grab one of the Belle Dame’s hands as she curled them into her body.

  “Fuck off! I will not do it! Kill me instead! No!” She screeched. “Nooo!”

  The Bodyhunters finally grabbed a hold of her right wrist and yanked it free from her clothes.

  “You cunts!” Margret shrieked. “I’ll kill you for this! This is an affront to the Healer! You damn your souls!”

  “Of that, I have very little doubt.” Blackheart cooed in a drolly tone before smirking. “Thankfully, I don’t put much stock in religion. Come on, get it over with. Hacker, stand by. I will require your expertise to not allow the slut’s death to pass. This will get bloody.”

  Nerisity watched as Margaret’s outstretched hand was pulled forward. Her twitching fingers and palm grew closer and closer and closer to her belly.

  Nerisity breathed rapidly as a panic attack was set to strike.

  “Please no! Stop!! STOP!!!” She screamed.

  “Starling! Look at me! Look at me!” Margaret implored.

  Nerisity dragged her eyes away from the hand to meet Margaret’s sorrow-stricken eyes. “Be brave. Be brave. It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay…”

  Blackheart laughed, his voice was like a cracking whip. “It really isn’t.”

  And with a final flash of movement, Blackheart whipped out her hand, grabbed Margaret’s wrist and slapped her bare palm with the Marked sigil onto Nerisity’s womb.

  A cold touch came. It crawled from Margaret’s hand and crept into Nerisity’s belly and womb. The cold turned to ice as it ate away at the warmth that Nerisity had grown accustomed to until there was only ice in her belly.

  There was a flash of a face in Nerisity’s mind. It was Arcos, smiling. Then he was gone, replaced by the cold and the darkness of the cell.

  And then what followed that ice cold… was the pain.

  A pain that ripped through Nerisity to such an extent that she thought her genitals and stomach were being sliced apart with shears. It was a pain that was unnatural. It was purest wrong and it tore through her body. It violated her soul. It raked her mind. It broke her heart. It destroyed her will and clawed at her sanity.

  It was a pain so vile and great, so cold and foreign, Nerisity could not hold herself together. She could not be brave anymore.

  She threw back her head into the dirty cot and howled in extreme agony.

  The procedure took three long, agonising minutes. And then, the unholy damage was done.