Aranea floated unconscious until she heard the roar of a storm slamming vast waves against rocks. The cold seeped into her body, sneaking everywhere, and she opened her eyes, finding herself in the paw of a great beast. Its amber eyes watched her, piercing through every layer of her being, finding every suppressed desire and grievance and touching them, stirring rage in the woman. They stood at the edge of a vast cliff, with a sea of pure darkness splashing beneath. Howling gusts tore at their fur. The wolf hag's head throbbed, threatening to split open; every thought darted here and there, denying her clarity.

"Stop resisting," the beast spoke, and a name came to mind: Ravager. The ancestor. But a certain wrongness permeated her image, as if Aranea herself merged with it. "Drop the pretense already. Let go of your cowardly restraints and accept me. Embrace rage and fury. Claim your destiny."

"How… how are you here?" Aranea parted her dry lips. "Where are we?"

"Inside your skull, stupid!" The hold tightened, threatening to snap bones. "I am but a fragment of her, birthed and locked by you. Ravager, yet no Ravager. Alive, yet not alive. The form you see is the manifestation of the heritage, a part that you…" The paw squeezed a faint cry from Aranea. "…dares to deny!" The amber orbs burned with hatred. "All these years wasted! We stumble, walking in circles, achieving nothing, denied our revenge. All because you are too scared to accept yourself!" The enormous jaws snapped near Aranea's face, spilling drool upon her. "I hate you for cowering. I hate myself for being weak. Let me go already; let me rip and tear!"

Madness filled pseudo-Ravager's gaze, but her voice changed, becoming pleading. "Let's follow Mom. Embrace our curse. Aren't you weary of trying and failing? Unless we are one, you are too weak. With me, though, you'll be a monster capable of changing history. Face it: none of your dreams will become reality. The past won't be rebuilt. Abandon sanity and let's craft our throne of corpses! Let's set every wrong alight for what has been done to us! Once everything is over, when we can go no further, we will be reunited with them! If you still care for our parents, if the love for them still warms our soul, we can do no less!"

"I miss them. It's true, I hate myself and I hate what you represent, while longing for what you can offer," Aranea responded, facing the look. Ravaged smiled, expecting permission, and loosened her hold. "Yet I deny you. I won't. I refuse to follow in Mom's footsteps and hurt those who did me no wrong. Selfish as it may be, I have a dream for which I am ready to struggle and die. I will change the Tribe. After that, I will see Tilden dead without stooping to his level. One day, I will find Mom and put an end to her suffering."

"Fool," Ravager snarled, releasing her. Aranea fell into the dark chasm below and entered the biting ice of the dark waters closing around her….

…and suddenly the warmth of a soft bed touched her. She jumped up, dreading what she knew she would see. This room. The scattered toys. The familiar window. She even thought she heard small legs darting around in the morning, preparing…

"Come on downstairs when you're ready," a gentle, caring voice called from the first floor. "We need to talk while there's still time, Aranea."

Aranea licked her lips, coming down the stairs into what was supposed to be a kitchen. A bright, calming light filled the room, and she sensed no threat. However, the place looked distorted. Certain things were much bigger than she recalled. The ceiling of the narrow corridor seemed to stretch to the sky. On edge, Aranea stepped into the kitchen and encountered two enormous Wolfkins. One stood by the window, and the other cooked at the stove.

The one by the window had a shorter snout, and muscles rippled across his arms. He carried a bow the size of a sword saint at his back and two long daggers on his gem-encrusted belt. Long arrows lay at his feet, ready to be kicked into his paws. The Wolfkin by the stove had a slimmer, more feminine build and a longer snout. Unlike her partner, a two-handed claymore in a golden sheath rested on her back, and on her diamond-adorned sash waited four pistols.

Both had lush, white fur, combed, clean, and smelled of a sea and perfume. When they turned to look at Aranea with crimson eyes, she noticed their strikingly familiar features.

An amber light lit the darkness outside, and Aranea took a step back in fear when she heard the raging howl shaking the house. The beast lurked out there in the void, waiting to be unleashed.

"Calm your worries," said the male Wolfkin. "She never visits."

"Although we invited her to join us," added the female Wolfkin, placing a cake smelling of fresh bread, sugar, cream, and chocolate on the dinner table. "It's cozy and comfortable in here. Regardless of whatever delusions she holds about herself, there's no reason to be stuck alone in the ice and storm without company."

"You're in my head, right?" Aranea inquired. "This house and the outside don't exist. I am dreaming while I'm unconscious."

"Bingo." The woman smiled. "You return to the nice days so rarely. It's peculiar. Your love for your parents, your friendship with Keyl and the others, shine with the force of a newborn star. Yet, you run away from these pleasant memories and seal them away. Don't do that. Let the past be another pillar to sustain you. It's a part of you. Call Keyl and have a chat. I'm sure he misses you."

"What, are you going to demand that I release my power, too?" Aranea laughed in a pained voice.

The woman's finger beckoned Aranea to sit and eat. The wolf hag folded her arms, refusing the offer and unwilling to be in debt to whatever they were.

"Nope," the male said. "You don't want us, that's fair enough. You have noble goals: to change the tribe, save your mom, and rebuild lost trust…"

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"And yet you hate yourself." The woman knelt before Aranea, still towering over her. A simple shift in her posture prevented the blade from scraping over the floor. "It poisons you. Not preventing but hindering the positive changes you seek to achieve. You have to let it go. Make peace. Memories of the past need not be painful."

"Beat it!" Aranea yelled, and the fur rose on the back of her neck. "Forgive myself? How can I?! Because of me, Dad is dead! Mom went mad saving me!"

"Others hurt your family, not you," pointed out the male. "One woman once said a reasonable thing about not shouldering everything alone."

"Don't you dare use my words against me! Yes, I can, and I will blame myself! Mom told me to stay home. Dad said to listen to her." Aranea exhaled, calming the trembling paws. "Whose fault is it for breaking these simple instructions but my own?" A lump came to her throat, choking her. "I have a duty to my pack. They accepted me as one of their own, but the second I accepted some power, I injured a friend." She unleashed her claws, now small on her fingers. "Get… get away from me. I don't need rage or forgiveness, and I don't deserve memories of the good days. All I need to do is remedy my poor leadership, rescue my soldiers, and achieve my dreams so that the others can finally be happy!" She shouted at the Wolfkins.

"Dear, how can you bring happiness to the people if you reject it for yourself? It's a worthy cause, but what about you?" cooed the female, placing a gentle and caring paw on Aranea's shoulder. "Happiness is not a limited currency for you to reject."

"Let me out of here! I still have so much to do! I don't have any second waste on this!"

"Go then," the male said, placing his hand on her forehead. "When you understand and are ready to accept yourself, call us," the Twins said in unison, their encouraging smiles mirroring each other. "Everything will be all right in the end. If something is not right, then it isn't the end, Aranea. Persevere and excel."

She gasped, waking up in an unknown room. Red stone formed the walls and ceiling. The air was stale, hot, and heavy with moisture. She sniffed and sensed the stench of blood and guts. Aranea no longer wore any armor, and metal bracelets tied her paws together, restricting her fingers' movements. She tried to break free and realized the alloy was too durable.

"Wolf hag… Aranea, have you finally decided to wake up?" a strained voice said from her left.

She turned her head, noticing Yuki. The scout sat with her back to the wall, covered in closed cuts and scratches. Swollen bruises marred her legs and arms, and similar bracelets encircled her paws. Sly lay near her, with a large dent on the right side of his head. Yuki placed his head on her knees and gently scratched behind his ear.

"Yuki," Aranea said, standing up. "How are you?"

"Feel like shit and smell even worse." The scout grinned, nodding at the door. "They came for Kostya, Kate, and Kaleb. We tried to resist, and…" She looked at the unconscious soldier. "… I failed to keep him safe again. Stupid dolt. Took the blow meant for me." She patted his head. "What will happen to him when I'm gone? Aranea, make sure he always eats properly, and don't forget to drink, at least."

"Nobody will be gone," the wolf hag said, trying to sound certain. "I'll tear the place apart if needed…"

"Ari," Yuki interrupted. "I heard screams. Not just ours. Trust me, I know what they meant and who was screaming. None of us are getting out of here. The merciful and wise thing to do would be to kill each other and deprive the freaks of satisfaction." She touched Sly. "And yet I'd rather die than harm him. That, and I bet my soul that we are being watched."

"Like Abyss, any of us is dying here. Yuki, I swear to you, you'll see the light of day yet. You have drones to toss at Sly, remember!" Aranea twitched her fingers, sizing up the walls. Maybe she could break a hole outside.

"Don't bother." Yuki raised her paws, showing the white glint of exposed bones on her fingers. "When the screams came, I kept striking… Not a scratch. Save your strength. If salvation is impossible, maybe we can claw ourselves a retribution."

Aranea searched for anything that could be used to stage an escape, but found nothing. Her claws could not splinter the smooth wall or floor, and an electric shock sent her away from the door.

With a soft whoosh, the door slid to the side. On the other side stood a tall man in rich clothes. A red cloak slung over one shoulder and a blue sash around a gold-trimmed jacket held it close to the waist. The high collar obscured part of a long yellow mustache. The man had no eyebrows, and his mocking green eyes surveyed Aranea from his bald head.

"Awaken, wolf girl?" the man asked casually. By the sound of his cheerful voice, she recognized him as Yasen Wolansky, the bastard who had torn her soldier in two. "Meh. You're even uglier awake than when you're asleep."

"Were you waiting for me under the door? Like a loyal pet? How cute of you!" Aranea mocked. "Let's postpone the exchange of pleasantries. Where's the rest of my pack?" she demanded.

"Hm. Where indeed, my sharp-tongued cockroach?" Yasen stretched out the words. "Walk with me, let's find them. Nope, just you," he added, noticing Yuki's attempt to stand up. "Wrong move, girl, and I'll flatten you. The mistress has a bone to pick with this wolf girl. You wait for your turn. Here's a piece of free advice. Try not to piss off the leader."

Yasen waited for Aranea to exit the cell and snapped his fingers. The door closed on its own. Unbothered about protecting himself, he walked ahead, not caring if Aranea would even follow him. Looking around, the wolf hag saw rows of cells placed in the walls of the first and the second floors of the corridor, with no apparent way to reach the cells on the second floor.

Most holding areas were empty, but behind a few bars she noticed people lacking limbs or skin, stretched and left in uncomfortable positions on the cruel harnesses. Their backs arched, and pus streaked from their exposed wounds. A woman moaned, pleading with the wolf hag to kill her before they came for her again. Half of the poor soul's skin was missing, and drill marks dotted the white of the bone. A pool of blood spread under her legs.

The wolf hag released her claws, finding a pebble with her feet.

"If your fingers touch our prisoners, the lives of your pack are forfeit for sure," Yasen said with a yawn, not turning around.

"Want to say we are in no danger as it is?" Aranea asked. She rolled the pebble between her toes. "Are you willing to throw yourself at our protection, shining knight? Sorry about the shining part; that's just light reflecting from your…"

"Don't try to act smart, doggie. It doesn't suit you. This wench right here was sentenced to a noble end of bleeding out for the crime of not screaming as our mistress's tender fingers explored her insides. She was so stern, so defiant at the start of the procedure. Claimed she'll never break. Look at her now and marvel at what a few hours of intimacy can do to a person's dignity. Such a lovely, obedient bird, eh? All break in the end. Had she given up what Blaguna wanted, her horror would've been over by now."

"It is over," said Aranea, kicking. The pebble flew through the bars, hitting the convulsing woman in the eye. Her body stiffened and relaxed, without a gasp, as the stone ruptured the brain. "No claws, as ordered," Aranea told Yasen as he turned and glared at her. "Lead on, my trusty guide."

"Whatever." The corner of his mouth twitched. He lied. It wasn't irrelevant.

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