"All of them?" Emma's voice broke.
"I don't know," I reached out tentatively.
Horrace flinched away from my touch, tentacles drawing close to his body in fear. He made a soft, confused sound, nothing like his usual musical communication.
"He's scared," Milo observed sadly. "He doesn't understand what's happening." One of his skeletons looked out from Milo's pocket making a concerned chattering noise.
Emma's face crumpled for a moment, but then she took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. With gentle hands, she stroked Horrace's fur, her touch patient and non-threatening.
"It's okay. You're safe. No one's going to hurt you."
Slowly, Horrace's rigid posture relaxed. Though he still showed no recognition, he allowed Emma to continue her gentle ministrations. After a few minutes, he even stretched out a tentative tentacle to touch her face, exploring it with careful curiosity.
"That's it," she encouraged. "You've done this before, even if you don't remember."
The cultists chose that moment to burst through the door.
Three hooded figures charged into the office, dark energy crackling around their hands. The lead cultist, face hidden but voice unmistakably feminine, pointed at Horrace.
"The catalyst creature belongs to the Harbingers now," she crowed in delight. "Hand it over and you may yet survive."
Rook moved faster than thought, tackling the nearest cultist to the ground. Zane engaged the second, his hands glowing with fae magic as he blocked a spell aimed at Emma and Horrace. Milo's skeletons emerged from his pockets, growing to human size as they surrounded the third cultist.
"Get Horrace out of here!" I shouted to Emma, channeling prophetic energy through my markings.
But Emma wasn't moving. Instead, she had placed Horrace safely behind her desk and was advancing on the lead cultist with fury in her eyes.
"You did this to him," her voice shook with rage. "You took his memories."
The cultist laughed. "A necessary sacrifice. The creature served its purpose in our grand design."
"The only thing you've designed is your own failure," I stepped up beside Emma, the markings on my arms pulsing with building power. "You keep underestimating what we'll do to protect those we care about."
The lead cultist raised her hands, dark energy gathering between her palms. "Your sentimentality is your weakness, Chalice-Bearer. The Harbingers see all, know all?—"
Her speech was cut short as Emma, mild-mannered veterinarian that she was, punched her square in the face. The cultist staggered backward, caught completely off guard by the non-magical attack.
"That's for Horrace," Emma declared, shaking out her hand.
I seized the opportunity, channeling a blast of prophetic energy that knocked the cultist off her feet and into the wall.Around us, the others had subdued the remaining cultists. Rook held one in a headlock, while Zane had magically bound another. Milo's skeletons had the third pinned to the ground.
"Now," I turned to the lead cultist, who was struggling to rise, "you're going to tell us exactly what the Harbingers did to Horrace, and how we can fix it."
She laughed, blood trickling from her nose. "Fix it? There is no fixing it. The creature's sacrifice is permanent. Memory cannot be restored once consumed by the sigil engine." She smiled, the expression ghastly beneath her hood. "The Harbingers have taken their due."
Fenric stepped forward, his silver-blue eyes cold. "The Bureau has ways of extracting information that you cannot imagine. I suggest you reconsider your position."
The cultist's smile only widened. "The Bureau's methods are irrelevant." She bit down hard, and immediately began to convulse. "The Harbingers... protect... their own."
Within seconds, she went still, dark foam bubbling from her lips.
"Poison capsule," Zane cursed. "Check the others."
But it was too late. All three cultists had taken their lives rather than face questioning.
"Fanatics," Rook growled, releasing the now-lifeless body.
I turned back to find Emma kneeling beside Horrace, who had emerged from his hiding place but was keeping a cautious distance from the violence. His colors had improved slightly, shifting from dull gray to a muted blue, but his eyes still held no recognition as they darted around the room.
