“Is the world ending? What the fuck is going on out there?” Harley cries out.

  “Our allies have arrived.” James mutters. “We need to get back to the others.”

  “If these guys have free reign - what was the point of doing all this?”

  “It’s more than just them – if there’s lesser creatures interfering as well, they can be stopped.” James isn’t flinching. “With the main pyers, we need the stronger stuff.”

  “It’s a running theme; the big problems never have an easy solution.” Harley looks around at the cellblocks – or more accurately what remains of them. The contents of the block were torn inside out by a hurricane. A vicious one that didn’t have any room for mercy. “Have we gotten a call from the radio tower or what?”

  “John must have his hands full-.” James starts.

  His words are cut short by a sickening sound, it reminds him of babies crying in the woods out in the middle of nowhere. The work of a wendigo or some other creature that impersonates the living to guarantee a meal. A soft, innocent cry that pulls at the strings of the heart. There is something off about it, Harley is wincing, scratching away at her book furiously with her pen. Her eyes are completely wide in horror.

  A second ter, gunshots ring out.

  “What the fuck was that?” James snaps.

  “Of course it had to be fucking babies. We need to help them - the light will keep them at bay. The fsh from their guns, but we need something furry.”

  “How can you tell?” James is already following Harley.

  “If there’s one thing I know about being a medium - it’s that dogs operate on a completely different level. They can detect things, sense changes better than we can. If we’re lucky and these things are what I think they are - the dogs can scare them off.”

  “There’s a lot of therapy dogs to go around.”

  “Bingo.” Harley replies. “We get one of them to get the fuckers to back off.”

  It’s a mad dash through the prison and it isn’t long before they see the creatures. The guards to their credit are keeping the things back, and in the light of their guns firing, Harley can see the things clearly. They are pale and sickly, with bean-stalks for arms and legs. Its head is far too big for its body - it's a skeletal thing with its bones poking through its skin.

  A shrill cry escapes its maw, and it jumps through the air towards a backpedaling officer.

  He fires off a shot, his bullet passing through its head. He falls backwards with the thing on top of him. Its cws are already red with blood. Harley can hear the groans of the grievously wounded. Prisoners and guards. Their faces were torn apart - left to bloody ribbons. The spindly thing starts shaking the poor man back and forth like a rag doll, banging his head on the concrete floor whilst he tries to fling it off. It screams in pain at the man, like a baby. Vukosava didn’t like these things for obvious reasons. It’s a good thing that Harley’s friend obsesses about this kind of thing, the font of knowledge and facts can help in situations like these.

  It’s time to reign in the dogs and put them back to work. Harley takes her silver bat, pegging it at the thing. A bloody trail is running over the guards’ cheek, better than the mess his mates are in.

  There’s no time to waste.

  Harley locks her pinkies in her mouth, unleashing a sharp whistle. The effect is immediate, the entities snap towards them. Their bulbous craniums on full dispy, their cavernous pits for eyes, their gaping maws. They’re about to close in, but then the hounds of war arrive, barking and howling as they barrel into the sickly babes.

  A brutal fight ensues, but the dogs despite being in therapy have a history of being police dogs. They might be old, but they’re not feeble yet. They might not be able to physically hurt the entities, but they can drive them back.

  “Shit, oh shit.” James runs up to some of the prison guards.

  “What are you morons doing here?” The prison guard struggles back to his feet. “This isn’t the pce for you.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. But we can’t exactly turn tail and run, can we?” Harley points out. “Do you have a medic room or something?”

  The guard looks down at his comrades for a moment, clearly debating between joining Harley and James and being there for his men. A moment passes and they can hear them crying out, that makes up his mind quickly. “Help me with them. Please.”

  “You don’t have to ask me twice.” James starts helping the guards along the corridor. The damage that is done to some of them is too much for Harley to look at. Some didn’t have eyes or noses, some - she stops herself as she can feel bile bite away at her jugur. Somehow, James has the strength to take them, one by one.

  “Are you two going back out there?” The guard asks. He’s already getting to work, unpackaging bandages and folds of cloth.

  The dogs are still going crazy with the entities.

  “Yeah. Keep the door locked.”

  “No, my responsibility is to keep the general public safe while they’re at this facility.”

  “I understand what you’re saying, sir.” Harley speaks softly. “I appreciate it, but if we’re going to be of help to this pce, you need to trust us.”

  “Fine. What are your names?”

  James supplies them.

  “I’m Bradly Dockson.” The guard says hollowly. “Get out there.”

  -

  Vukosava can hear them – her ears are sharper and her senses are working overtime.

  But none of it matters, the Red Queen is very well aware of her abilities. There’s no way she can fight her – no, she’ll follow the pn even if the others take a little bit of time to get there. As she runs down the corridor, she can hear the roar of a savage beast up ahead, the remains of the men and women inside is a horrific sight. It’s as if a bear mauled them, taking bloody chunks out of all of them before slinking away. The blood is dripping down from the ceiling, and there’s intestines looping through the bars of the cells.

  Their batons and guns lie around them, thick with blood and bile.

  Without thinking, Vukosava jumps to the side as a shadow rips through the ground like paper. She raises her hand, shielding her eyes from the smoke that sends blood skirting down. It looks up at her, an ungainly, bulky creature that seems to fill the corridor with its size. It’s a monstrously huge bear, a patchwork of primal terror. It goes onto its back legs, throwing back its head to roar. The bars of the cells start to shake from the velocity. Somehow, Vukosava remains standing, bracing herself as well as she can against the storm.

  Its forepaws shining in the dark, gleaming like obsidian. Its front is bright with gore. Its forepaws nd on the ground and it starts running, a shambling gait due to its massive size. Vukosava’s mind is racing for possibilities of what this monstrosity could be - a giant beast that shambles around. That’s all she’s got.

  It thunders towards her, its cws reaching for her neck. At the st possible second, she jumps onto the wall before springboarding off of its back. It rears up angrily with a sharp bark, before its body starts to melt into the shadows, the maul of teeth stretching to a sickening degree. It’s face lengthening and distorting, turning into a whirlpool that completely vanishes from sight. A spiraling vortex of the animal and its darkness go after her, it’s like something out of a body horror movie. It’s true size is incomprehensible, it’s flesh and fur are revolting.

  The thing is clever though, it might possess the mind of a beast, but it knows how to pick people apart. If she didn’t have these senses, she’s red meat.

  It moves quietly, its long cws barely missing her as she tucks and rolls towards one of the poor prison guards. This thing - a bear that can disappear into the shadows, that ambushes its prey, paralyzing a victim with its cws, dragging the meal away to its ir. It’s a Bauk. A monster from Serbian mythology. It shouldn’t be here at all.

  “Okay, big guy, I got you figured out.”

  Her decration really pisses it off.

  It solidifies in front of her, several funnels of darkness pooling from the floor, the ceiling and the walls. Vukosava reflects quietly to herself, I’m too fast for it, the best strategy is to limit the space she has. The Bauk is slowing down intentionally, it’s a predator of patience. Whether it's the embodiment of primal fear of ancient peoples, a warning of the dark or a distorted memory of a bear. There’s two weaknesses she can exploit - light and loud noise.

  This time it lumbers towards her, its eyes glowing with cunning.

  Vukosava needs to get to the Red Queen and this thing is standing in her way. A gun cannot concentrate light on it long enough, and a baton can generate noise. She looks at the cells, their bars torn to splinters. The metal couldn’t hold it back from going in there and ripping the prisoners out. Metal on metal - that should be enough.

  This time she runs directly at the beast, it saunters up onto its back legs, keeping one forepaw on the ground. Its eyes calcuting the time it needs to pnt itself on her - crushing her skull to powder. Vukosava won’t give it that chance, she picks up two batons, cracking them together as hard as she can, right in its face as she goes for a baseball slide. This momentary noise causes a growl of annoyance, its body distorting slightly.

  It’s enough for her to run towards the broken cells. She picks up one of the metal bars, ripping it across the others. The best way of describing the impromptu drum solo is like nails on a chalkboard, the Bauk screams violently. It’s shadowy form turning into that of a porcupine - spikes and bristles reaching up into the ceiling, as the shockwaves keep on hitting it.

  Vukosava doesn’t stop, even when it’s standing over her. It lunges at her but its cws turn into tendrils. The noise is stopping it from forming fully. Finally, it sinks into the ground, into the racks on the floor. As quickly as it appears, it’s gone. Hopefully it’ll stay gone for a good while. She can feel adrenaline pumping through her veins, she can’t stop now.

  She thunders towards the main block, she can see that the walls and floors are completely done up in blood and gore – this is the vengeful retribution of the Red Queen. There’s a quiet acknowledgement of what she’s done. For a moment, they stand facing one another in silence.

  “I remember our st meeting – so desperate. So foolish.” The Red Monarch hovers above the ruination she’s brought. “It seems that even the clever - do not learn quickly.”

  “You don’t have to do this!” Vukosava’s voice rises to a shout.

  “I suppose you’re going to tell me that what I’m doing is wrong?”

  “No, what you’re doing now is not going to avenge who you were. It’s not going to close those wounds – it’ll just open new ones. This will not give you peace, Catherine, it’ll only pull you further from it.”

  “You think I clung to life to forgive the ones who destroyed me?” The Red Queen’s voice is barely a whisper, shaking with rage and sorrow, full of passionate emotion that is threatening to escape her restraints and send everything around her crashing down.

  “I’m not asking you to forgive them, I’m asking you to think of those who were caught up – at the wrong pce at the wrong time!” Vukosava is struggling to bring her words under control, to make them sound even – not aggressive.

  “It seems that fear is lending you strength. Admirable that you stand here alone – facing your possible death. I’m sure your friends will be here soon. If you intend to continue with your defiance, then you are defending the problem. I am here to solve the problem – nothing more.”

  “If that’s true, then you have to consider one fw in this solution that you’re enacting.”

  “What would that be?”

  “It’s your view of things – Charles Derhert showed us the past. He didn’t have to do it – he didn’t need to bring it up or even help us. But there’s one thing he believed in. No one deserves to suffer like he did – being burnt at the stake. There are a lot of Charles in the world, a lot of Alises as well that can make mistakes or be caught up in something that isn’t their fault.” Vukosava is gradually calming down, perhaps she can be reasoned with. Perhaps there is a way out.

  “So, will my act of retribution lead to the loss of innocence?” It’s a rhetorical question; the Red Queen sighs modestly. “You would say to my dear cousin – that her kindness is contained in these cells. If a system throws people like that to the wolves, then why should the system remain standing?”

  “Because – people are fwed. That is the one thing that remains a constant throughout history.” Vukosava refuses to break eye contact with her, if she does it’s a sign of weakness. “Taking a bck and white view of things, that creates more problems than it solves.”

  “So, tell me, what is your pn? To convince me to go home?” The Red Queen ignores her points.

  “I would like that – but I know you’re not going to stop. You wouldn’t be here if you intended to.”

  “Then why waste your breath on such a thing? Is there a reason that you continue with this desperation?”

  Vukosava takes in a steadying breath, her anxiety is building and she’s getting pins and needles running along her shoulders and down her spine. This is more than just life or death; this is a moment of defiance against a harsh and brutal worldview – this ideal that belongs to the Red Queen could shape everything. The future of the material pne. She steels herself; logic and rationality is not going to win this debate. If something like this could be a debate.

  The Red Queen waits for a moment. “The importance is not lost on you. A lot hangs in the bance and you’re afraid. As I was.”

  “Yeah, I’m afraid, I’m afraid that a lot of people will die.” Vukosava can feel a rush of emotion and power rippling through her, the waves of a vast ocean starting to slowly build up. “I cannot allow that to happen.”

  “Is this the end of your pn – or the start of another?” The Red Queen casually asks.

  “I suppose you couldn’t stick to the pn for too long, could you, Vukosava?” She spins around to find John, his silver mail-bat slung over his shoulder. “Hey, your very royal highness, we need to talk.”

  “The most foolish one arrives – you were the one that started this mess.” The Red Queen regards him coldly and regally, as if he were some roach. “I suppose I should thank you for that foolish act, but the losses that occurred. Was it worth it?”

  “No, what I did was horrible. I need to make this right.”

  “It seems that finally, you’ve gained a bit of sense. However, I have nothing to say to the likes of you.”

  “You’re right in thinking that. I won’t deny it.” John remains at a respectful distance. “We all want to talk to you – we don’t want people to suffer because of our mistakes.”

  “You believe that I’m interested in helping you?” The Red Queen hovers over to him. “I could reduce you to a husk in barely a second.”

  “You definitely could. None of us would be able to stop you – but that’s not who you are. You’re not that kind of person; Charles told us.”

  “So, he decided to speak – after all these years. He couldn’t face me before, so he’s going to face me now.”

  The others are closing in – they’ll be here any second.

  “That’s right – and he’s not alone, there’s someone that we want you to meet.”

  “Ah, so that’s who you’re bringing here, the one who is bound to the painter.”

  “Please, you have to listen to her.” John is not past begging, whatever he can do to turn this situation around – he’ll do it. There’s no shame in it, the only shame he couldn’t bear is more people dying because of his stupidity, his juvenile behavior, his hunger for fame and fortune. All this time he thought of himself as a King on YouTube – when really, he’s a shitty jester, little more than a sve to the algorithm. “It doesn’t have to continue.”

  -

  “She is here, Amber, the Red Queen is conversing with them.” Charles Derhert advises gently in Amber’s mind, the words bouncing around her consciousness. “The moment will soon arrive – and in its dawning, it will be determined whether I live or die.”

  “You did nothing wrong, why would she want to punish you?” Amber is speaking to the form of Charles Derhert within her own mind; his face is somber but there’s defiance in his gaze.

  “I joined the side that stands against her wish. I do not intend for you to suffer; you’ve suffered enough already.”

  “If I’m deciding to take on more weight, then I have to go forward. Even if our words mean nothing in the end – we still have to fight. That’s what I’ll hold onto – it’s what Marcus would want, it’s what Alise would want. We’re carrying their will onwards.” Amber turns slowly to see Nathen looking around nervously. His face white with shock and fear, he can hear something horrible.

  “She’s really gone and done it. The prisoners. I can feel their screams written on the walls.”

  “Why couldn’t I hear them?” Amber asks the painter.

  “It’s a horrible thing to hear, I heard myself doing it so long ago.”

  “You don’t have to protect me, Charles. I need to hear it – I can’t put a blindfold over my eyes.”

  Nathen takes her hand. “Okay, Amber, we need to go. We have to back up, John and Vukosava.”

  “I’m ready. I can handle it.” Amber says aloud.

  “I don’t doubt it.”

  -

  Harley looks over to James with a knowing gnce – she’s furiously scrawling over her notebook, arrows – directions to the source of the problem. It’s never a good idea to go to the centre of a hurricane but they have no other choice.

  “I didn’t think I was going to live long anyways.” James grits his teeth.

  “Yeah. I don’t want to get turned into paste yet. I got some more shit to do.” Harley is doing the same thing, preparing herself for everything that happens next.

  “The others are closing in, I bet.”

  “All part of the pn, talk with the Red bitch and hope she doesn’t send us to hell.”

  James shrugs. “I’m willing to bet we don’t die.”

  Hopefully, Bradley Dockson will be okay.

  “You’re more optimistic than me.” Harley starts running towards danger. She’s doing exactly what those idiots in horror movies do – run towards death and destruction with a notebook and pen. Great, if I’m dying, I’m dying as some bimbo. They’re closing in and they’re not the only ones, Amber and Nathen should be doing the same thing right now. There’s a reason they spread out to cover more ground – to pce down some supernatural protection. The protective wards are working for the moment. There’s more than just the knight and Queen – there’s the beasties hungry for flesh and blood.

  It didn’t help that Vukosava didn’t remember the court too well. The one moment she leaves her brain on standby they get hit with all of this.

  “What are you doing?” James is ready to run back into the fray.

  “Help with this, you moron.” Harley is pulling at one of the fire extinguishers.

  “You think showering on her parade is going to do anything?” James helps her take it off the wall, he seems to have plenty of experience with doing so.

  “Vics did mention that the Red Queen can set things on fire pretty damn easy, we got to have a way of putting it out.”

  “So, we save our own corpses with water? What a stupendous idea that is.”

  “Just shut up and help me carry it.” Harley starts pulling at the nozzle, forcing James to scamper along to keep up with her.

  -

  Vukosava could see the outside world in sharper detail, her senses could travel further than what a natural human could achieve. If it helped with the bear, it can help here as well. John is looking at her, ill-at-ease with nothing but his words providing a paper-thin shield. Vukosava can feel it in her bones, that surge of power that is wholly unnatural. Her instincts are screaming at her, yet she ignores this internal warning. Think with your head, Vukosava, she thinks to herself – it doesn’t matter – she could throw hands with the Red Queen and have her insides torn apart with chains. She could be set on fire from within and turned into a nice roast. John pces a hand on her shoulder.

  “Reign it in, Vics.” He whispers urgently.

  He’s right – giving into an irrational rush is the worst possible decision. She needs every facet of her logical mind.

  “I grow weary of this.” The Red Queen’s eyes address her coldly. “It seems you do too.”

  Vukosava takes in a steadying breath. The Red Queen is trying to provoke her into making a reckless decision.

  “Our friends are going to be here soon.” Vukosava is fiercely keeping her emotions under control, her voice struggling to remain cool and casual.

  “It must be challenging for you, Vukosava. To not let your instincts take over.”

  “Do I remind you of someone, your highness?”

  “Yes, you do, Harald Vestris.”

  “The Usurper of Avaron.”