The communication center was a large, imposing building constructed from separate sections stacked on top of each other. It reached thirty stories in height. A round disk on the roof acted as part of the complicated system, establishing a connection with a web of satellites in orbit. The widespread Net remained a recent development for many in the Reclamation Army, and while the Dynast promoted the implementation of instant messaging between civilians, even if it meant relying on Iterna, the infrastructure in the Ravaged Lands was not up to the task. Thus, they used these massive communication towers. One tower stood over the headquarters and was used for military purposes. This tower offered services to civilians and soldiers alike, provided that the troops would not disclose any secrets.

Aranea paid a fee to use a small booth on the twentieth floor. The higher up, the better the connection, and through trial and error, Aranea figured out that the twentieth floor suited her needs best without overpaying. She squeezed into the bland, sterile booth, which was devoid of any traces of dust or dirt despite its recent use. She lay on a couch facing a terminal and dialed the Iternian.

Iterna remained a rival force to the state, yet the relations between the two countries grew warmer by the year. The Dynast announced his decision not to invade; old grievances had been buried for the sake of booming trade. Based on her limited knowledge about the topic, Iterna was the only country to emerge unscathed from the Extinction, leading to certain conspiracy theories about whether they staged the horrible catastrophe. Some claimed the mystical country to be a pure utopia, while others insisted its inhabitants were demons who changed people's appearances and genders by force. Sonya had burst into laughter upon hearing Aranea's question about the latter and assured her that the Iternians were strange, but no more so than anyone else.

The scout had noticed Aranea's doubts, and together they watched a brief interview with Warlord Zero, who, also laughing, declared the rumor false. This dispelled the wolf hag's concerns, for Zero's sheer hatred toward Iterna was well known and never hidden. If she had decided to protect them in this argument, then the rumors were full of shit.

Many wondrous items arrived from that faraway land hidden under a shimmering force dome. Among other things, there were tapes of movies filmed in the Old World, cartoons, comics, superior medicine, and cures for the most complicated self-evolving plagues. Sonya had visited Iterna in the distant past and confirmed that they provided the service required by Aranea, though she wasn't aware of any specifics.

Warlord Martyshkina was the one who gave Aranea the clinic's number and taught the young woman how to transfer funds.

"Yes?" asked the pleasant voice of Mr. Philip from the terminal.

"It's Aranea, Doc." She smiled weakly, even though he couldn't see her. "Sorry about disrupting your sleep all of a sudden."

"We already discussed it, Miss Aranea. It is not a problem." His voice flowed thickly, enveloping her in assurance without raising any alarm. "As my client, you have my permission to call me at any time of day."

Therapists. Iterna had skilled professionals in the field of mental health. Martyshkina had explained to her that their main advantage over their Reclamation Army colleagues lay in their keener understanding of the effects of biology on the psychology of the New Breeds, a topic not yet perfected anywhere else.

Aranea kept her personal identity a secret, wary that the Iternian might refuse assistance from another country.

"I screwed up, Doc," Aranea admitted.

"Let's decide together if it is so. Fill me in if you're comfortable," Philip asked. Aranea told him a summary of the events, omitting certain details, such as combat. "Sounds like you made progress," the man assured. "She is no longer afraid to reach for the items in your presence…"

"That's not all," the wolf hag said sadly, and told Philip everything she had learned from Kaleb. "As you can see, I landed in a proper quicksand. Tell the truth, I have not the faintest idea how to even start untangling the mess I've done," she admitted.

"That…" The man paused, processing the information. "… is why I am here. To help you and Kate. But I believe it is time for the truth to come out. After our last session, agents from the Intelligence Division visited me inquiring about the nature of my communications with an individual from the Reclamation Army."

Aranea's heart slowed down, and her blood turned cold. She imagined the walls of the booth getting tighter and tighter, threatening to squeeze her between them.

"You have nothing to worry about, Miss Aranea," Philip continued speaking in his assured and calm manner, and she heard the cracking of an armchair. "This is not a crime—not for me, and certainly not for you. I admit that I had certain suspicions from the get-go. Why would you pay? It's been sixty years since our services were free for the citizens. We do accept donations—who doesn't?—but the government funds us well enough." He let out a belly laugh. "I wrongly assumed such a desire to be tied up with your case. The revelation, however, has made me curious. Who are you, really? I do not ask out of interest alone or seeking any personal gain by revealing your identity to our secret service. The well-being of my patients is always of the utmost importance to me. Hence, my honesty. To properly help, I need to know more."

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"Will you keep this secret?" asked Aranea, weighing her options.

"Alas, no." He surprised her with his answer. "The agents are listening to our conversation, but worry not. They will not try to use the obtained information against you or your state in any way, shape, or form. We of Iterna take privacy extremely seriously."

"So why listen?"

"I asked the same question myself. They are observing the situation to ensure that you are not blackmailing me, the paranoid ravens." A hint of humor crept into his voice.

Aranea thought about his offer. The most reasonable thing to do was to end the call. It was far too risky to let an outsider learn more than he already knew. And yet… Mom taught her that if she did something wrong, she should try to fix it, even if that meant asking for help. That and the risks were minuscule, regardless of what Philip might extract from her. The wolf hag nodded, deciding, and inhaled. Duty before the pack came above her personal fears.

"I'm a member of the Wolf Tribe," she said. The call didn't end.

"Ah! Now I am getting a clearer picture. Some of your responses indicated that you may be an Abnormal, and the particular clack of your teeth hinted toward you being a Wolfkin."

"Fangs," Aranea corrected. "Clack? As in noisy?"

"Yes, but don't be ashamed of that particular effect of your physiology. I, for one, used to wheeze after a morning stroll. Still do. Depends on the distance," Philip admitted. "Limits and possibilities. They shape our unconscious behavior."

Aranea snorted and told him her rank and the village she was from, avoiding mention of her past, her encounter with Ravager, and the specifics of the change that granted her strength.

"That… A moment, Miss Aranea." She heard a loud click. "I turned off the ability of the Intelligence Division to listen to our discussion any further. I believe they gathered enough proof to summarize that I am in no peril. Back to our topic. You no longer have to pay me anything. Consider my consultations free from now on."

"Why the sudden generosity?" The wolf hag asked, suspicious. "If that is your way to compensate for the Culling, then scram."

"Perish the thought. I have nothing to do with that ugly business," Philip said bluntly. "Neither do you, if my guess about your age is correct. The answer is twofold. Because I can. Iterna's goal is to rebuild the world, not to tear it asunder. You have problems, so I will help you. And our knowledge of the Wolf Tribe is woefully incomplete. But let me give some advice. If you ever experience unprovoked aggression toward…"

"…A male, don't give in to it," Aranea laughed. "Yeah, I'm aware of that side of mine. The shaman taught the girls in our group how to spot and control the urge."

"So you are aware of it! If that would not be too much to ask, I would be thrilled to exchange observations with that shaman."

"Not going to happen. Doesn't trust Iternians. You'd have to come in person if you want an open talk."

"Hm. Then the tales of your prisoners about how your people tear visitors apart and eat them…"

"Complete bullshit," Aranea chuckled. "Don't tell me you believe in every fairy tale told by captives!"

"Better to confirm than to regret. Back to our topic." The noise of straightening spring came from the terminal. "I need to consult others and pick up some research material…"

Darn it. Aranea sighed. He, too, was unable to help her.

"… Yet I am certain that your friend's problem lies in not how you treated her, although that is not normal, and we will tame your anger, never fear. With your permission, of course. Nor is the conflict in the monetary cost of the lost items." The therapist said thoughtfully. "Granted, the best course would be for her to visit our establishment, but I understand that it isn't possible. No, Miss Kate's issue stems from something else. Without the luxury of having to converse with the dame, I can only deduce that the beads are part of her comfort zone."

"She does roll them over her knuckles," Aranea agreed. "Must be calming for the nerves."

"In more ways than one. I believe it isn't a simple physical release of tension. If your account of the events is accurate, the destroyed prayer beads have little to do with being family heirlooms. Her panic when she separated from them betrays deep worry. She needs them. Maybe the patient believes they suppress something? Memories, perhaps? Hm. Doubtful. Quite a puzzle!" The man said cheerfully. "Let's find out how we can help her together. When will you be able to contact me again?"

"No idea." Aranea tapped the armrest, understanding that she had a few more minutes to talk before needing to pay again. "The situation around here is chaotic enough and changes daily. I'm not rich enough to afford long-range communication."

"I can request that the Intelligence allocate funds from my private account," the doctor offered. "The insights gathered from interacting with you could clarify conflicting topics regarding the psychological mysteries of the Wolfkin Abnormals. Full secrecy of your private information is guaranteed."

"Like the secrecy of today's talk?" joked Aranea.

"No one forced you to disclose anything," Philip noted. "But no, nothing similar to today. I swear that no more information will leak from my end."

"Thanks, Philip. No one needs to know, so no funds," Aranea said. "You gave me an idea, and your previous advice was valuable, so let's stick to the routine. Good health to you." The call disconnected before Philip could respond, and Aranea let herself relax for a while.

There were two primary reasons for keeping their affair secret. First, she was unsure how the Investigation Bureau would react. If she received so much as a token from Iterna, it was bound to attract the black cloaks' attention and… Even alert Tilden to her survival. She didn't intend to involve the Wolf Tribe in her personal revenge. The second reason was simpler. She couldn't trust Iterna not to trap her. It would be best for their relationship to remain at a level where she could stop them without risk.

She smiled, standing up, and heard the round drones slithering from the corners of the booth and cleaning it. There's another mystery behind Kate. Maybe drinking with her wasn't such a terrible idea after all…

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