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From far away, I heard the Augur chuckling as he drew the tip of the poker upwards. More flesh seared, flames licking at my skin, the muscles of my back locked up like steel.
They were going to kill me. I knew without a doubt that they were going to drag me through this alive, keep me in this dark, mildew-reeking basement for the rest of my short life, and breed me to whichever man in the village would have me.
And when I had borne the next Vessel to undergo this same torment, I’d be put to the fire. They would chuckle like that as I burned.
It does not have to be this way, the little voice in the back of my head whispered. It was the seductive voice I always tried to keep quiet, the one stifled by the poison they fed me every day.
My second realization was that they were poisoning that voice for a reason.
Because it spoke true, and they didn’t want me to listen to it.
I was still screaming, but my mind ticked away coldly, separating itself from my squirming, burning body.
It was time to heed that voice and uncover the lies.
Deep in the recesses of my mind where I kept the iron cage, I unbolted the doors, and heard the monster within, my shadow self, purr.
The pain that erupted after that felt cleansing, like I was sloughing off this damaged body. The poker was a distant memory as claws tore through my fingers, shredding skin, and the splattering blood hissed and sizzled when it touched the red-hot poker.
My teeth sharpened and lengthened, cutting through my lips on the next scream. But this one was a scream of vindication and freedom as the world became shades of gray. I saw the shock on Father Borodin’s face, the faltering smile on the Augur’s.
It felt so easy to tear through the ropes, slicing them with my claws like butter. I stood up, my legs taking a moment to adjust after hours spent on my knees, but the freedom coursing through me washed the agony away.
I reached out and plucked the poker from the Augur’s grasp, and bent it in half before tossing the destroyed object away.
“You cannot cage me anymore,” I hissed, and tore past them.
Shouts echoed through the basement as I ran up the stairs, smashing through the bolted wooden door. Splinters flew around me as I sprinted, past Yana, who wore a look of horror, and Ionna, who had already raising a poker above her head.
We cannot let them touch us, the monster in me whispered, and I knew she was right. I was still too weak to take them all. We had to run.
The Father had nearly caught up to me, but I twisted away, leaving nothing for him to grasp but several white strands he ripped from my scalp. The church doors stood open, and I aimed directly for them.
No one dared to stop me as I ran like the wind through the village, leaping the barriers in one bound and streaking into the Wood. Even men armed with bows and knives held back, seeing my teeth and blackened claws.
I left the screams and shouts behind, seeing the world in a new, clear way.
But the farther I went, the more my body paid the price. The pain of the burns was catching up, overwhelming the elation that had filled me. Scabbed-over wounds opened, leaving red droplets behind me in a clear trail for any creature of the Wood to follow.
Good. I’d rather die out here than at the hands of the people who wanted me to die in agony.
The strength of the monster was fading, but the village was miles behind. I whimpered as I crept down a hill, limping now. Somehow I had twisted my ankle without noticing at all during my flight from Vostok.
I needed shelter from the night. I kept going as dark descended, but the world was still clear to me, shades of pale grays that were easier to navigate than human blindness.
I spotted a burrow beneath an oak tree ahead of me, but I felt myself fading. The shades of gray were beginning to go dark.
It was still too far when I had to begin crawling. I put one hand forward, then a knee, forcing myself to push through each motion. Everything hurt, but if this was dying, maybe it would be a relief.
I held onto that thought as I collapsed face-down in the leaves, slowly breathing in and out. It was a much more peaceful death than a pyre.
Something warm touched my back. I didn’t have the energy to open my eyes.
A growl so deep it shook my bones echoed through the forest. “Who did this?” It was the voice of the dark Beast, the one who had defended me from Ash.
The warm touch pushed too hard and a soft whine escaped me. If the Beasts were going to end me, I wanted them to get it over with.
The growl came again, and I heard another voice—the Beast who had spoken to me in the forest at midnight. “She’s been burned.”
