A train rolled into the station of Stonemourn, a roaring metal beast covered in spikes. Its bulk forced through a narrow cylindrical tunnel carved straight through the granite of a hulking, petrified tree.
Steam poured out of a chimney, and the smell of burning coal filled the stale air of the underground fortress. Metal screamed against metal as the brakes locked and the beast slowed. When the doors finally opened, people poured out in droves. Workers in overalls with hunched backs, destined to toil below among the petrified roots, and soldiers with eyes flickering toward every shadow.
Crates and cargo were heaved from the rear carts as the station swam in deafening noise. Officers barked orders, hooks clanged, and murmured conversations echoed against the stone.
A tiny girl, obviously misplaced, peeked out of a spiked and crude metal door.
“Hello, new place!” she shouted while swinging one foot out of the opening. She was holding onto a white hat with a long black ribbon, wearing a frilly dress of matching color.
A tiny hand appeared behind her and, with a yelp, pulled her out of view. An identical girl in the same outfit took her place.
“Good day, world!” she exclaimed.
Onlookers gave curious glances as an indistinguishable girl pushed the first one off the train with a sour face.
“Behave,” a calm but commanding voice said as a well built man in a hunter’s coat, hat, and a large suitcase stepped into view. He had the look of someone who demanded respect, and the two identical girls did not disappoint. Both immediately stood up straight and gave identical salutes.
“Yes, Captain,” they said in unison as heads turned toward them.
Lastly, a short, thin woman followed them out, dressed in a ladylike black gown and a wide brimmed hat that cast her face in shadow. A pack hung from one hand, and in the other, a small metal cage rattled faintly.
Edmund raised an eyebrow at the sight of the twins.
“Don’t make me rethink bringing you girls along now,” he said without a hint of anger.
The duo responded with a much quieter yet simultaneous, “Yes, Captain.”
Through the shifting crowd, a female soldier forced her way forward, waving an arm wildly.
“Captain Edmund! Over here!”
She shoved herself forward in a hurry, parting weary workers and soldiers with sour faces to reach them.
“I am Yeva,” she said breathlessly before she had even come to a stop. “I’ll lead you to the infirmary.”
“Good,” the Captain said with a tone that was polite yet left no time for pleasantries. “Brief me on the way.”
Yeva nodded and turned, cheeks flushing as her eyes flicked briefly to the two children trailing behind the grim hunters. She guided them into a side tunnel, away from the worst of the crowd.
The two twins marched in an orderly fashion behind their father.
“We have met before, but only from afar,” Yeva began, boots thumping against the stone. “I was in Sternthal, last train out.”
“Then you can imagine our urgency,” Edmund said, giving her a nod from beneath his hat. “Jonna, Jenny, fifteen paces behind us. That’s an order.”
The twins did as instructed, trailing behind them in a mockery of a military march.
“You may begin,” Captain Edmund said to the soldier.
Yeva swallowed.
“At eight yesterday morning, Hunter Elenya, Butcher of Hordes, and Wretch, Collector of Wounds, approached gate three along the tracks to Sternthal.”
“Condition?” Astrid asked from further back.
The tunnel twisted and widened, fizzing tubes of steel lining the ceiling through the dimly lit corridor.
“Hunter Elenya was missing a foot and an arm,” Yeva answered. “The latter had already healed upon contact. She had multiple lacerations and chest trauma. She is stable and awake as of four hours ago.”
“And the kid?” Edmund asked.
Yeva flashed a look behind her, meeting the Captain’s eyes for a moment, then swiveled her head forward again.
“He was not good,” she began, but seemed to struggle to continue.
“Yeva,” Astrid said flatly from under her hat. “He’s inhumanly tough. If anyone knows that, it’s us.”
Yeva cleared her throat.
“He was missing everything below the ribcage. Parts of the spleen, liver, and intestines. One arm gone. The other destroyed. Acid burns across most of his body. Skin melted. Blistered.”
She took a right into a wider corridor, and they passed clusters of workers with exhausted faces painted black with soot.
“He has accepted flame from the Blessed we have on station, but has yet to wake up. He is deemed critical but stable by the chief physician.”
“Good report,” Edmund said and gestured to the twins to come closer.
“Oh, and one more thing,” Yeva began. “Many refugees from Sternthal are still here, waiting to be moved. They see your company as, well, Blessings from the Saint herself.”
Edmund raised an eyebrow.
“What do you mean?”
“I think it is best you see for yourself,” Yeva said, gesturing toward a large archway with a metal plaque above it, reflecting the orange light of the gas lamps.
Infirmary
Yeva let Edmund and the rest enter, the Captain removing his hat seemingly out of habit.
The space beyond had been carved into a courtyard of sorts, the ceiling noticeably higher than the corridors. The room’s gas lamps had been turned off for some unknown reason, and fickle darkness filled the yard. Along the walls, different doors led onward.
Even as they entered, something was noticeably different. At the base of the largest door, candles covered the floor, hundreds of them. Before them, men and women of all ages, dressed in uniforms, overalls, and rags, knelt together in prayer, faces flickering in orange light.
Edmund walked in front, his boots thudding against the stone floor. An old woman in a headscarf turned. In the low light, her wrinkles moved in an expression of shock that resembled a ghastly mask.
“Edmund the Selfless,” she whispered. “Astrid the Tender.”
Hands reached out. Murmured blessings followed them as the crowd parted. Trembling fingers brushed against their clothes as they passed through the kneeling crowd.
Edmund’s step did not falter, leading the group up the steps. With a push, the doors groaned open, casting the praying faces in stark white light from beyond. They disappeared inside.
The infirmary was stark white and brightly lit. Narrow wooden doors lined the hall. Bloodied sheets and tools rested on a bench outside a particular room, and nurses and physicians moved between the tiny rooms.
“That one?” Astrid asked.
Yeva only nodded.
Edmund turned to her, his face a mask of hidden emotions.
“Yeva, watch my daughters. Call the chief physician.”
The twins looked up toward the young soldier.
“Sure,” she said hesitantly.
Edmund and Astrid stepped inside the room. A narrow metal bed with wheels stood beside a worn cupboard, with a gas lamp lighting the interior.
Someone was lying in the bed, tucked between the sheets. Elenya rose from a chair, leaning on a wooden crutch. Her foot was bandaged, and the left arm of her shirt hung empty. Layers of bandages were visible under the white fabric. She was thin, with sunken cheeks.
“Cap,” she said through gritted teeth.
Edmund moved up to her and put a hand on her shoulder, not breaking eye contact.
“Welcome back,” was all he said.
Elenya gave a sigh.
Astrid placed the cage with the meowing cat on the floor and stepped up to the girl twice her size.
“Do you need healing, sister?” she asked, standing on her toes to place a hand on Elenya’s other shoulder.
“Save it for him,” she said softly.
On the narrow mattress, surrounded by a short railing and embedded in white sheets, lay what remained of their scout. Hairless from head to toe, his entire body undeveloped, like a newborn. His pelvis ended in nothing. A few wet leaves were placed on the chest that rose and fell rhythmically.
The Captain leaned on the railing, taking in the sight for a moment.
“What happened?” he asked without looking up.
Astrid gave Elenya a look through her glasses and moved around to the other side, trailing her gloved hand over the unconscious body.
“That dog thing from Sternthal,” Elenya said through gritted teeth. “It followed us, then bit him in half. Swallowed him.”
“It spit him out?” Astrid asked as she inspected the barely formed ears.
The taller woman shook her head. “He killed it from the inside. I cut it open and ripped him out. He…”
“He didn’t have skin. The stomach had melted him. He wasn’t breathing. If you think he looks bad now, it was worse. Way worse.”
“What are the leaves?” Astrid asked.
“The chief physician is an Ember. They absorb disease and damage. We filled him with flame using my amulet. But he is not using it anymore. He healed until he was no longer dying, then stopped.”
Elenya sat down heavily, eyes fixed on the cat’s cage.
“The thing is, Astrid. That heart press you taught me way back…”
She was quiet for a moment.
“There was a glow forming in his chest.”
The shorter girl in black stopped moving her hands and looked up.
“He died,” she said in surprise.
Elenya nodded.
Edmund furrowed his brow.
“That can be done? Even when the coal is formed?”
“I don’t know,” Astrid began. “Perhaps the process was not finished, but I am only speculating.”
A knock came from the flimsy wooden door, and it swung open. An older woman with dark skin, dressed in a white coat, walked in, her gray hair tucked into a tight knot.
“Good evening,” she said, though her expression showed no sign of having one.
“I am Doctor Jonokova. I am glad you could make it. Are those your daughters outside? Quite the lively bunch.”
Edmund nodded and shook her hand with a grim look.
“Good evening. What is your assessment regarding my hunter?” he said.
She gave a look that made both Astrid and Edmund frown.
“He is unresponsive. His vitals are now under control, and though he shows neurological signs of brain activity, I do not have the Blessings or tools to make him wake up.”
“So we can only wait and pray,” Edmund said.
“There are specialists in Nov Yanosk,” the doctor said.
The room fell quiet, though the giggling of the twins could be heard through the door, along with the rattling of the cage where Whiskey was held.
“I am sorry,” she said finally. “I will clear him for transportation in the morning.” She gave a small bow and turned to leave.
The Richters stood frozen in place.
“Tell us everything, from the beginning,” Edmund said at last.
For half an hour, Elenya described what had happened during their trek across the deadly lands, and Astrid used her power on the unconscious body without any effect.
Finally, Edmund shook his head.
“I should not have brought the twins and the cat, but now that they are here, we have to take care of them.”
“I will stay the night here. You two can go get some rest. We will bring him home in the morning and find a healer, Fireling or higher. We will take it up with the bureau, but I will pay for it myself if need be.”
Astrid did not answer but stood up, picking up the cage with Whiskey, who was clawing wildly at the metal mesh. In silence, Astrid and Elenya, with her crutches, walked to the door.
It swung open before they had time to reach for the handle.
Two identical heads peeked inside with wide smiles, a panicked Yeva in the background trying to hold them back.
“Elli!” they shouted, wriggling out of the struggling soldier’s grip.
They threw themselves onto her, hugging her tightly. Elenya struggled to force a smile, ruffling one of their heads with her one hand.
“What happened to your arm, and why do you look so thin?” one asked.
“Where is Wretchy?” asked the other.
Edmund moved to stand between them and the bed.
“I need to talk to the two of you.”
Jenni stopped, trailing her gaze between the rattling cage holding Whiskey and the bed. Her twin was acting entirely differently, still climbing Elenya with childlike vigor. Jenni, on the other hand, stood strangely still, as if petrified.
“What is it, love?” Edmund asked.
“We should let Whiskey out,” she said as her twin giggled.
“Why?” Astrid asked.
“I don’t know. It just feels like we should,” Jenni said.
With three quick steps, she crossed the narrow room and unhooked the cage herself.
The orange cat sprang from its prison like an arrow from a bow, landing with ease. It gave a shake, and its tiny nose sniffed the air.
The Richters all looked at the small creature. It leapt onto the mattress.
“Who is in the bed?” Jenni asked, looking at the faces of the rest of her family.
“It’s Wretchy. He got hurt and won’t wake up,” Astrid said, finishing the captain’s words as he stepped aside with a struggling expression.
They all looked to the bed, where Whiskey sat squarely on the rising and falling chest.
Outside the open door, Yeva stood with a stiff expression, and the noise of the other patients and nurses ebbed and flowed in the background.
Whiskey, scarred from burns, with its patchy orange fur, looked straight at Wretch’s closed eyes, its tail swaying back and forth. Its feline pupils were unblinking as it gave a soft purr.