The night is filled with unrest; I have fallen into a deep sleep that I can't wake from. One moment, we were huddled together in the chilly shop, trying to decide on amputation, and the next, I was in an inescapable nightmare. 

Time after time, I'm running after a little boy who I can't catch. He runs farther and farther out of my reach and teeters close to the edge of reality, threatening to fall into the abyss. He's gray-haired like his father; he tells me repeatedly that he wants his mommy, his eyes rimmed with tears. 

I want to tell him that I am his mommy but he doesn't believe me, the words come out all wrong and I can't form them. Again, he nears the edge, and eventually, he falls, only to start the dream over once more for I can't open my heavy eyes. 

My body fights against my consciousness. When I finally gain some form of control, all I can see is darkness and I come to realize, I am not awake but in purgatory. Am I dead? Did the wraiths find us? As I stand, my father appears before me, and I quickly rush to him, I had thought he had told me I would never see him again. He doesn't disappear or run; he hugs me, and it feels as natural as if he were flesh and blood. 

"Tata." I greet. "It was those damn wraiths, wasn't it?"

He chuckles, holding me at arm's length to confirm my existence. "No. You're not dead. I decided to check in on you, I'm not quite ready for you to wake up yet. I see you're gaining a taste for revenge?" 

The memory of Red dying in her hospital bed flashes before my eyes, and I blink it away, running a hand through my hair. What does he mean he doesn't want me to wake up? 

"Do you feel satisfied?" 

I make a face in response, pulling my lips into a thin line of frustration.

"Revenge is never fully satisfied, there is no amount of death that can make up for the death of another. I thought your lycan friend would have taught you that?"

I wasn't quite hoping for a lecture. "He's not my friend. I'm about to be married to him." The teenage side sparks in me, unable to put a lid on it, I'm ashamed at my pettiness. "I'm sorry, it's been a long night."

It's Darrius's turn to make a face, and he raises an eyebrow as he regards me. "I'd say. That was some pretty impressive maneuvers you did there. I know that face well because it is my own, the weight of the world on your shoulders is a difficult burden to bear. I wish I could have better prepared you for what you were to face, but Nicolas I am so proud of you."

I've been in this game too long to think he could have given me any indication of how my life would turn out. As it were, I wouldn't change any of it. As much as I wished we were under a different set of circumstances, I was content with my lot. 

"You've given me so much already. I wish we could have had these conversations when you were alive to have them, that is the only thing I desire from you. Don't fret over my preparedness." I had given up blaming him some time ago; blame only held onto resentment I was already inclined to have. 

He chuckles once more, shaking his head dismissively.

Folding his hands behind his back, we walk through a reflection of the past years through my eyes. He observes quietly, and I take in the gentle peace that the memories bring; even the uncomfortable parts fail to unseat me. I had found a good ending, I could be proud of my accomplishments. 

"You would have made a magnificent King and still might if you make it that far."

My feet stop, and I close my hands into fists, the question burning in the back of my mind now front and center. "There is one thing you could do for me? Tell me. Do we make it out of this?"

The world around me begins to tremble, and I know I'm waking up. Darrius places his hand on my shoulder, his eyes locked in mine as he begins to de-materialize.

 "Find Fergus. Nothing is as it seems." It only seems to bring me rage. 

"You say that every time we meet!" I demand from him. 

"Maybe you should listen."

My eyes open, and I shake my head to clear it from the fog of being on another plane. Meetings with my father were draining, pulling magic from deep in my core. My entire body hurts; even the roots of my hair seem to have a reason for complaint as I attempt to stretch, yet something holds me firmly in place. 

As my eyes focus, the blinding light of day hurts my vision, and I realize I have a splitting headache. I reach for my head, but my arms do not move; I wriggle and come to terms with the fact that I'm bound, hands tied firmly behind my back.

I know better than to scream and panic; the smell of burning wood and flesh fills my nose and sends the headache into a spiral. I could nearly faint were it not for the fear of who had taken us.

 When the world comes to a halt, I see a set of bright red eyes staring back at me from mere inches in front of my nose. 

The face is white as snow, with black-rimmed eyes, and long, black, inky hair tied back into a messy ponytail. 

"You're awake. Good. I was worried you'd gone and died on us."

"And who in God's name might you be?" I demand. 

The sound of my voice threatens to mutilate me as my mind fights the intrusion. 

The man speaks to someone else, straightening so I'm eye-level with his thighs and knees. His words are muffled as my gaze rolls around the compound. I feel we might still be in the city by all the debris, but it's hard to tell as I'm unfamiliar with the customs of 'city' life.

 We are surrounded by a makeshift wall. I'm sitting on hard concrete instead of snow, and my clothes appear to be dry, though I'm beginning to chill once more. "I don't think this is him." I hear him say.

"Who?" The word comes out more as a slur, my vision fades in and out of focus.

The man backhands me with a suddenness that brings me into an echo chamber of my mind. "He's too small, this is another one. They are multiplying." The words sound distant, far away. 

"Don't worry. We can sell them." 

Sell?  

I surface back to consciousness with a cough as I spit out a mouth full of blood from my split lip. I make a pained sound as I feel fingers grip my hair and tilt my head back, the sun threatening to blind me. 

"This one is young; maybe he can be trained; if nothing else, he's pretty." My captor tilted my head from side to side, dragging his thumb over my lower lip almost like he wanted to insert one of his dirty fingers into my mouth. "Real pretty, almost like a lady."

I jerk away, gritting my teeth as I begin to climb out of the fog. "Kindly fuck off, but thank you. At least you think I'm pretty. " 

I wait for another strike but instead, a foot lands squarely on my back and shoves me to the ground. I grunt as my face hits the concrete and wonder if I'll even be recognizable after this rough treatment. Rolling onto my side, I feel the edge of my bindings with my fingers and decide that they are rope. Easy enough. 

"Do not speak, gypsy. You will answer for your origins soon enough."

I scoff, "Well, at least you're racist."

The cold hand grabs the back of my jacket and lifts me to my feet, I find that my legs aren't bound, but they're numb; perhaps I'm just too chilled to feel them. He shoves me forward, and I trip and stumble over the debris on the ground. Finally, my eyes fall on the decimated city, covered by snow from last night's weather event. 

"Was it not enough that you destroyed our city, but now, you come and bring snow where it has not snowed in nearly two decades? We followed the rules; we do not go into the cities of man; we brought you parts, and yet you continue to punish us."

Me? 

"Sir, I think you have me confused-" He shoves me to the ground, and I barely catch myself before dropping to sit on my hip. 

"Do not lie! You might not be the exact one, but Solomonari are all the same. The red hair, the destruction that your lot has brought upon us ever since you climbed out of that damned river. We will see how Gabriel feels when one of his disciples ends up on the black market, just as he has done to us." 

I fall silent, opting for fear instead of defiance. This could be the lead I was looking for; these people could be the key to the answers. I put on my best actor's face, widening my eyes and scooting backward with a more shy, subdued look.

"Don't like that, do you? Claiming the dubbing of Gabriel was an insult in itself, walking around as if you're gods is quite enough to warrant a bit of justice."

A man approaches, dirty and ragged, wearing multiple layers of clothes. "How about we just ransom him? You know Gabriel hasn't paid us for our last batch of the beasts we brought him. Tell him it's all or nothing, I just want my money and this little prick is going to stick out like a sore thumb on the market. Nobody is going to want 'im." 

He grips my jaw, and I flinch, my jaw aches, and the bones in my face feel disjointed. I'm sure I'm working on a black eye. "He's a fucking gypsy. It's worth less than garbage if you ask me. Solomonari or not." 

So they are bounty hunters, it would seem. I swallow hard, squaring up my gaze as I try to get past the putrid smell of old meat on the man's hands. I have to play along, they might just do all the leg work for me.

I can't imagine that other Solomonari wouldn't come running at the opportunity to get a second shot at me. 

"Well, you know the price for cats is way down; I was here to negotiate." I can only assume these are the beasts they're speaking of.

They glance at each other, the red-eyed man scowls down at me. "Negotiate? Lad, you went and fucked up your paperwork. It ain't cats we've been huntin'. See, Seth, I told you this one is useless. Gone and grabbed ourselves some sort of rogue. Maybe tryin' to earn the money himself, you know how these traveler types group together like rats." 

Not cats? What other beasts were there? 

They don't even bother to stand me up, pulling me by my elbow, dragging me as my boots scrape and scuff the debris as we wade through the shabby, makeshift town amongst the ruins. The smell is overwhelming, and I'm glad I haven't eaten because surely I'd be sick.

Slinging me roughly, I grit my teeth as my back hits the post and they bind me to it. This was becoming ridiculous, I needed to find my companions, I needed to get the hell out of here. There was nothing to be gained from bounty hunters.

 Rolling my eyes, I feel my hand touch something soft. With a glance over my shoulder, I see why they think I'm a rogue. 

All around me, there are stacks of pelts, possibly nearing a hundred or more, primarily dark in color but all very distinct in what they belong to. Lycans, dozens of lycan pelts that had been stripped, tanned, and laid out to dry. 

My heart begins to pound, and I take in my surroundings.

I see a woman standing at a table, snipping ears and hair off a severed elven head. It flashes me right back to Tonic's massacre where the dead elves wouldn't take their dull eyes off of me. This one does the same. 

My body begins to shake, out of my control. I'm surrounded by death; the overwhelming burning smell wafts into my nose and I spot freshly skinned bodies tossed onto the fire by a burly, dark-skinned man. 

As the bodies char, I can feel as though I spot one of the wide eyes blinking in response to my eye contact. Was it possible that these immortal beings lived through this torment? Lived through being harvested off of? Was they why... they burned.. them?

I feel sick, turning my head away as I struggle to keep my emotions in check. "Where are my companions?!" I demand. 

Seth, the dirtier man, pauses his conversation to glare at me. "What?"

I feel the tears causing clean streaks on my dirty face as I stare up at them, gritting my teeth. "My friends! My companions that I was with! My goddamn lycans! Where are they?!"

He pulls out a gun and points it at me, landing square between my eyes, but I'm unflinching. The red-eyed man yanks the weapon away, shoving the other. 

"Don't shoot him; that's our only bargaining chip." 

Tilting his gaze towards me, he clicks his tongue in amusement. "Sortin' 'em. You have some pretty cool stuff in your arsenal, I must say. Fetch a pretty penny; shame you won't get to bring them to Gabriel yourself. Thanks for rounding up that gray one, though. Mistress might even visit you herself, to thank you, if you make it that long." 

So it's not common knowledge that she's dead? I should remember that the man by the river didn't realize she was gone either. 

I jerk on my restraints, attempting to freeze the rope, but the fire burns too hot, and my head is too foggy. Crouching down, he tilts his head with a grin. "I'm not an idiot. I capture you sorry bastards for a living. Special gas that'll make that pretty head spin 'whirly whirly' for a few more hours yet. Get comfortable, princess, and pray that Gabriel gets to you before I sell you to the highest bidder. You're lucky there's nothing to be gained from extracting magic from a Solomonari."

"What makes you think I'm not here in service of Red instead of Gabriel?" I'm grasping at straws; it's enough to make the leader pause.

Seth spits at my feet, "Fucking gypsy." He grumbles as he trudges off. 

In a previous life, I would have screamed after them and prompted them into a fight, but I needed the time to think. The fact that I'm alive means that he's alive; I try and focus on my breathing as I fight through the emotion of being surrounded by a magical slaughterhouse. 

My stomach flips as I catch sight of the stained concrete, slick and frosty from old and new sacrifices. The snow is black and different shades of red, fresh blood splattered against old, frozen splatters of what used to be living beings. 

I can't let it get to me; I can't allow myself to think about it. I'm going to get us out of here, I have to think as if I was a mortal. 

"Don't let him scare you; the market isn't for two more days." A voice startles me, and when I look up, I see the top of a blond head over the pile of pelts. "Are you actually a Solomonari?"

"Yes." Why not be truthful? What else could go wrong? "Are you a captive?"

The voice chuckles, "Yes. I'm afraid my time is almost up, though; that's my captain over there that they're cutting up. Big price on elves for incantations, I guess. There are some sorcerers who believe elf blood is a delicacy, elf ears.. bones.. hair.. " 

I swallow hard, cringing at the sound of the cleaver hitting wood. 

"Never thought I'd see one of your kind on this side of the chopping block."

I try not to think about that. Solomonari were peaceful people, not criminals. "What is this place?" I try and be quiet, discreet. 

"A factory? A slaughterhouse? I'm not sure. I've only been here a few days myself but I saw a mage yesterday talking about a black market, they don't have any more room for stock so they're selling out. You picked a bad time to bring wolves through here; they're a dime a dozen right now." 

He sounds disappointed, and I feel as though I've been missing out on something.

I fight through the sorrow-filled words and focus on the task at hand. "Sir, I was not trying to sell those lycans or the magic users with them. We were..." I shut my eyes, willing my brain to work. "Collecting wraiths when the storm hit."

He glances at me over the stack. "Did you not cause that storm? You should know better than to collect wraiths in those woods."

I shake my head. "No. We barely made it to town in time to get out of it."

"Hmm. Odd. The earthquake did us in; we lost many of our supplies in a building collapse, ended up short when they called our number and got to pay the man somehow. Guess we all picked a poor time to visit this place." 

A black market is taking advantage of the vacant cities; no wonder the higher-ups wanted us to stay away from these areas. 

I straighten, blinking through the migraine. "Who buys your stock?" I manage through the squinting and throbbing headache. 

"Oh, many people. It was a big cat market, but it's hard to turn 'em, and the Mistress grew bored of the things. A pipe exploded almost a year ago, disrupting one of our major transport chains. S'all wolves now, they're plenty of 'em. Ever since that lycan started singing on the radio, they're popping up everywhere." 

I hadn't even noticed; I hadn't seen any other than ours, but it would make sense as we kept ours under lockdown. 

"It's hard to get to them before the cats get 'em. It was a good payday on lycans when the Mistress was more active; then Master Gabriel began requesting lycans- sometimes you don't quite know what Master Gabriel will do with what you bring him."

"What does that mean?" I ask, uncertain if I want to know. 

The woman walks over, squatting down before me, her body spattered in blood over her thick wool sweater and cargo pants. She brushes my cheek with her bloodied, gloved hand. 

"So curious. It would help if you were from out of town, it might keep you alive a little longer. Master Gabriel likes to look the beasts in the eyes, looking for something, I suppose. He takes parts of things and makes potions."

 Patting my face roughly, I jerk out of her grasp, and she chuckles as she stands. "Don't worry, he'll be comin' for you soon. I imagine the Master doesn't take too kindly to competition." 

Tilting her head towards my information, she straightens and stretches. 

"I'm taking a break. Get right with your god, elf; you're next. I've got an order for a scalp, that matches yours perfectly."

I tilt my head against the post, shutting my eyes tightly and willing myself to wake up. I was powerless, practically in a mortal form in my current situation. But, it seemed it was up to me to get us out of this mess. "What's your name?" I whisper.

"Ganath." He responds with a sigh.

Quite the elf name. "Well, Ganath. I hope you're up for some entertainment."