A low, guttural bark made me open my eyes.

I was standing inside a building with white floor, walls and ceiling. The concrete panel to my left had crumbled and the floor had these odd hack marks the size of my arm.

As I struggled to understand what was happening or where I was, someone landed fifteen degrees to my left. On instinct, I spun the scythe that was conveniently available in my hand and swung it downwards with ease and precision I didn’t know I even had a drop of.

Instead of hitting the enemy though, the tip of the blade raked over the white flooring, leaving a large hack mark on.

So that’s where it’s from.

A crimson monstrous claw lashed out at me, ripping my robe and tearing a good inch into my ribcage. Still unable to shake the daze, I stepped back, pressing a hand on the bleeding wound. The pain didn’t even have the chance to sink in before it started healing.

Confused, I stared at my scythe, then at my reflection marred by the long vein-like crack along its smooth glassy surface. My left eye was bloodshot, with the usual gray and a strange brownish-green appearing to push at each other to see which color would earn its spot.

I caught a reflection of the crimson claws right behind me.

Quickly, I spun on my heels, feet apart, stance low. I shielded myself with the flat of my blade. Almost immediately, the claw collided with my scythe, jarring my knees. Metal clinked against talons.

I groaned and pushed back.

Just over the blunt of the scythe’s blade, a pair of silvery eyes looked back at me.

“Vincent!”

I automatically let my blade falter. As it had evaporated into a cool mist, Vincent’s Cataclyst pushed through the resistance and rammed into my chest like a wrecking ball.

I rolled onto the floor, skipping twice like a rock thrown on a lake before landing on my face.

My torso felt like it had been pounded on until tender. All the pleasure of my broken ribs realigning and my sternum fusing coursed throughout my body as though I was under a stampede. The raging bulls wore spiked metal shoes.

A cough made it out of my mouth, stirring the chalky dust on the floor. I spat blood and gasped for air.

“V-vincent…” I croaked.

A huge blur of brownish red curled around me. The soft shaggy fur felt warm on my face. It smelled like peanut butter and was growling ominously.

I almost smiled when I realized it was Byron Flynn. The fur over his back bristled, his belly vibrating against my back before a loud bark rolled out of his muzzle.

Writhing and twisting on the floor, I chewed on my lips to force back the whimpers. Bones clicked. Muscles squirmed and stretched. Organs shifted. My body was being torn in two.

Patches of red blocked my sight. Still, I managed to stay awake.

Somehow, I saw feet stepping towards me. One had a leather hunting boot on while the other was covered in a cast of already crumbling plaster and ripped bandages. How Vincent’s leg healed in such a short amount of time was a mystery to me. But then, the fact that injuries were healing almost instantaneously could only mean that we were not in Halja anymore.

“It’s not her, Byron Flynn,” Vincent warned, his voice cold and devoid of emotion. “Get away.”

The dog whined, nudging my face with his wet snout.

“I-it’s me…” I finally rasped, struggling to reach out for him with a trembling hand.

A pair of woven sandals came into view, blocking Vincent.

“Wait, Vincent,” said a tiny shrill voice who could only be Luci’s. “I think we should make sure that it’s really Aramis. Just to make sure.”

My right eye twitched. Since when did she become in charge here?

Out of sheer willpower, I searched for the Transference Link within me. There was some resistance when I tried to manipulate it, like a tool that had rusted over time. I managed to bend it according to my will. The link was weak, almost nonexistent as I willed it to get through to Vincent.

Vincent. I called telepathically. It’s me.

In half a heartbeat, he slid on his knees beside me. Carefully, he lifted my head off the floor and brushed aside the hair plastered on my clammy forehead.

As the last of my broken bones clicked into place, a spasm ran from my toes up. My limbs painfully stiffened. Teeth clamped together. Eyes involuntarily rolling up into my sockets.

For a few seconds, I was blind. I couldn’t breathe. Then I felt Vincent’s life-force stream into me. I welcomed it ravenously, letting it back into its rightful place. Its warmth lulled into a trace-like state. And for a moment, I dreamed of a home within maze-like halls, the bunk-chair, waking up in the morning holding someone’s hand.

I kept my eyes closed and evened out my breathing. As far as I could tell, I was still on the floor. Byron Flynn’s warmth radiated on my back. The pain was gone as if it hadn’t existed in the first place. A horrible nightmare that would cease to exist once I wake up.

“Why… is she so important to you?” Luci’s voice swam in my dormant awareness.

Vincent’s answer took too long, translated into a cryptic sigh.

“You were very worried.” It wasn’t a question this time. “I find it a bit… odd. She’s only a familiar. Why are you jeopardizing your safety for her sake?”

“She is my familiar,” answered Vincent quietly. “Only that. Nothing more. But, I always look after what’s mine however little its worth.”

I killed the urge to scoot up and give him a major head-butt. The only thing stopping me was the possibility of being Bound. That and I didn’t want him knowing I was listening. What he said made perfect sense. Something about it hit an angry nerve in me though.

After letting a few minutes lapse, I sat up wordlessly. I stroked Byron Flynn’s head. He was back in his enormous fox-dog self. His amber eyes trained on me meaningfully. A large gash—probably from my scythe—ran on his muzzle, healing at a snail’s pace. Unlike me, his master wasn’t here to share him his life-force. So he had to endure it a little longer.

“I’m sorry, boy.”

Vincent kneeled before me, grabbing my shoulders.

I kept my gaze down as a familiar would, pressed my lips shut until a response was required from me. He was right. Being a familiar, I should know my place.

“You okay?” he breathed out shakily.

I nodded obediently.

He lifted my left eyelid and checked the color. Still unconvinced, he held my chin and forced me to look at him. Our eyes glued for a second. The reality that I didn’t have the right to look in those eyes brought a twinge of pain in my chest.

Kill. From her cave, Alessandra stirred from her transient hibernation.

Her fury surged into me, a contagion spreading her influence over me while she was too weak to take control. As much as I hated to hate Vincent, it wasn’t difficult.

“How do you feel, Aramis? Does it hurt anywhere?”

I feel numb. Empty.

“I’m fine, Master,” I murmured, staring at his chin. “I’m sorry I lost control again.”

“Is that… really you?” He sounded worried. If it was genuine, I could not tell by looking into his eyes anymore.

Again, I nodded indifferently. “I’m positive. But you can have Belial check me up to see if I’m lying.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not sure myself, Master.”

“Stop calling me that!” he roared.

Luci and Byron Flynn flinched. But I didn’t. I was kind of expecting his outburst. I deserved every bit of it.

“Then what should I call you?”

Vincent ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Why? Why’re you being like this, Aramis?! Tell me!”

“I’m sorry, Master. I didn’t mean to make you angry—“

“Shut up!” he yelled, creating some distance between us. “I know. I-it’s not you. You’re not Aramis. You’re still…” He fell into a miserable silence.

Luci was by his side before I knew it, rubbing his back, murmuring words of comfort. That was supposed to be my job; one I still couldn’t do right. No matter how I looked at it, I was a good-for-nothing familiar.

Seeing Vincent so depressed made me want to disappear, be eaten alive by a three-headed dog or something. It was too late for me anyway. Soon, Alessandra would take control again and I didn’t have the power to keep her from hurting my friends. Especially, Vincent.

“Bring her back!” Vincent snatched my arm and pulled up.

Like a ragdoll, I got to my feet unsteadily, my knees threatening to buckle.

“Perhaps, she’s just tired,” Luci hushed. She was just looking. No intention to help there or anything. Not that I needed her help. “Give her a night’s rest and she will be back to her lively, satirical self by morning.”

If I hadn’t just sworn to change my ways, I had eight different comebacks ready for takeoff. I never knew how freaking difficult it is trying to be good. Just thinking about having to keep this up forever made me want to hurl.

“Sorry,” was all I could say.

“We should head back,” Luci said, giving me a half-smile.

I tried not to sway as Vincent’s grip relaxed. His fingers had made an impression on my arm, but I tried not to dwell on it.

Behind us was a tall arched entrance without a door. Strange symbols were engraved on the doorsill. As my eyes strayed to the right wall, I noticed bookshelves and study tables. The ceiling arched thirty feet over us. A steep staircase led up to a second and third floor. In the middle of the room was what remained of a statue of someone in a hooded cloak with wings spread about him. Or her.

“That is Eldest,” Luci answered my voiceless question. “If you’re wondering, we are in my laboratory.”

“We’re still in Halja? Then why—“

“You’re wondering why all your immortal abilities are not suppressed.”

“Yeah.” This mind-reading thing of hers was getting more annoying by the minute. I looked at Byron Flynn, my forehead creasing.

“And how Byron Flynn returned to his Elemental state.”

Ugh, please! Make it stop!

Holding back a smirk, Luci anchored an arm around Vincent’s. As they walked, she held him like his leg was still injured when all the while, I was the one in need of assistance.

“Come, Aramis,” she beckoned. “I’ll enlighten you on our way home.”

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