A bright white light snatched her from the prison of unconsciousness. No matter how hard she tried to focus, she could not discern any clear details of the surroundings. Only pure white light shone upon her, not irritating her eyes. Even her name refused to come back to her. Her back touched a cold metal surface, and water leaked from her side. Water? Or was it blood? She wasn't sure.

And then a golden light sliced through the pale void, forming into an orb that brought warmth and contentment, halting her growing panic.

"She is bleeding," said a worried and kind voice. "Why is she still bleeding? The doctor had told me that she exhibited a heightened regenerative aptitude…"

A blue light joined the yellow, stretching out to form a hovering arrow. "A poison preventing coagulation. Irrelevant. The medical personnel can analyze it later. Let's finish the job before we lose her," a cold and calculating voice said from inside the hovering blue mist.

"We need to ensure her survival first!" objected the golden light, unleashing a corona of the brightest yellow that reached into her, pleasantly heating the bones and gifting a surge of vigor. "I wasn't informed that her condition was so severe! She could die!"

A black orb floated into view, a sphere of utter dark with a purple dot in its center. The mere sight of it brought her joy and a promise of salvation. "Commander, be reasonable," sounded a deep, honeyed, and confident voice from within the purple color. "You know, we would never risk our troops."

"Her sacrifice will be in vain if we argue instead of acting," added the blue light.

"Sacrifice?" the golden light whispered. "Curious. This choice of words, and the fact that reporters were close enough to film the massacre—Ivar, if I find out that the tragedy was your doing, I swear…"

"Brother. Have I ever treated our troops as anything other than valuable? Am I not indebted to the Wolf Tribe? I would never dare to spend either of them over nothing."

He avoided rejecting the accusations. She thought. Why is that important?

"Let us not quarrel," the black orb's soothing voice interrupted. A purple veil descended upon her, locking her attention at the center of the floating sphere. "Wolf Hag Aranea. Tell me everything you learned about our opposition. Their personalities and powers. Anything you thought was peculiar."

Aranea, is that my name? Yes. The experienced stress caused a slight distortion in your psyche. Fret not, it's not permanent, and I'll be gentle. A presence entered her mind, shoving aside the growling personality and uttering a command, and, against her will, Aranea's lips moved, describing the latest operation. She talked for hours, her body numbing and growing colder.

"Ah, so he is the false hero," said the blue light as Aranea finished. "I will see to his execution."

"And the sadistic creep will be my prey," murmured the black sphere.

"This leaves Jekaterina," said the blue light. "A hint dropped by the monster checks out with what we know of her. I disagree with your assessment; her power could impede our progress."

"Or be of use in the future," objected the black. "She adheres to the humanitarian customs. Give me time, and I'll bring her into the fold. More important are the creature, that green intruder, and the words uttered by our officer. Cubs. Hmmm. It is of paramount importance…"

"Bah, cubs mean children in the Wolf Tribe," said the blue arrow. "No confusion here. As for the woman, she is likely what Commander Ravager warned us about. An agent of the shadow cabal of sorts that pursues the goal of taking over the world."

"Again with your paranoia," responded the black. "No organization this big could operate without us spotting them by now. It's just another cult, full of delusions of grandeur. We've destroyed plenty of those. Whomever she serves, it'll be no different. May I look deeper into her memory, sir? I am worried about the cubs. Doesn't sit right with me."

"The investigation is over," the golden light said.

"Commander, Aranea is repressing her power because of mental trauma. We could discover the mystery of her crimson eye at last and force her to unseal her ability. It'll be healthier for her and more profitable for us, Sir," offered the black.

"Brother! There's a potential to uncover secrets." The non-intrusive purple veil of the dark sphere trembled, rent asunder by descending claws formed by the blue arrow. Their tips almost touched Aranea's forehead.

"Enough," snapped the golden light, and the foreign wills creeping closer were flung asunder with the ease with which a grown woman tosses a rowdy cub. A light dawned on Aranea, safeguarding her memory and preventing her from slipping into the darkness. "No further inquiry. She may keep secrets. None of you or your agents are to dig into her past." His words were an inviolate law, and the two others submitted. Even Aranea tried to bare her neck. "Doctor, take her to my personal recovery pod. Treat our rescued soldiers, replace their lost limbs with vat-grown analogues, no mechanical parts. Scorpio, Ivar, contact the Investigation Bureau, send requests to Iterna and the Oathtakers. I want to know Green's identity and where to find her to rip her mind open. The criminals must pay for their cooperation with the Resistance."

"Do we have to share the discovery… Yes, brother, I obey."

As unseen hands raised Aranea from the metal slab, the yellow light remained close by, maintaining a distance and shining its rays of hope upon her. She dropped into thick water, its waves closing in on her face.

"Rest well, Wolf Hag Aranea. I need loyal soldiers. The pain will be gone soon," said the brilliant yellow. "And Blaguna, Yasen, and anyone else involved in the butchery will face our retribution. This I swear."

****

The liquid flowing down her nose and throat made breathing difficult. Aranea opened her eyes to an endless blue filling everything to her left, right, down, and up. Her limbs flailed, finding no platform to hold on to.

Water! It terrified her. The last time she had swum was over fifteen years ago in a pool under Dad's supervision. With every slap of her arms, her panic increased. Water! I must escape, find the surface… Her waist tightened, and two elongated steel poles of a manipulator rose to her armpits. Grabbing onto them, heart pounding, she tried to quench the unnatural panic as the manipulator moved her up.

As soon as her head broke the surface of the liquid, Aranea inhaled, forcing herself to accept the safety, and frowned at the thick liquid clinging to her like glue. She coughed and sneezed, clearing the airways while the craned hand raised her to the ceiling, allowing her to see the full extent of the object standing below her.

In the middle of the vast hall was a truly massive, square-shaped, white device fit to house an entire district. A round, oval top closed the device's exposed opening, hiding the unnerving blue lake. Above it loomed a display more befitting a stadium.

The craned arm called the wolf hag along the side of the stupendous technological marvel. Wherever she was, the hall was impressive. Black marble formed its floor and walls; white tiles embedded in it depicted long-extinct animals, and she recognized a gorgeous stallion among them. Braziers hung from the smooth walls, spreading incense, and paintings of deceased Third heroes took up spaces between them.

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Eled, the legendary berserker of the Wolf Tribe, held her scythe proudly over her shoulder in a photograph next to a painting of Captain Cristobo, a famous Normie leader elevated by the progenitor.

Aranea's unsteady legs touched the ground, and she shivered from the frigid air conditioning in the hall.

"Aranea?" The sight of Doctor Marco hurrying to her ahead of a gray-haired woman brought much-needed relief. "Please don't worry; you're safe among friends…"

"Oh, for the love of the Planet!" snapped the elderly woman, reaching for a flashlight. "Stop coddling her; the girl is a tough cookie."

I don't mind a little care. Aranea swallowed the retort, too happy at meeting a familiar face.

"Sit," the woman commanded, earning herself a surprised glance. "You want to see your friends or not?" Before the doctor could finish, Aranea squatted down, opening her eyes wide as the doctor shone a light in them to check her pupils. "Open mouth." Marco's gloved hand reached inside, touching gums, palate, and tongue. "No visible complications; injuries are healed, and fit enough to understand words."

"I disagree about complications," Marco said. "She is too light."

"You'll soon learn that they gain and lose weight at a moment's notice. But I'll add your concern." The doctor nodded, typing on a portable terminal. "You are to stay in the hospital today and tomorrow for observation. Hop along and good health to you." The gray-haired woman sighed, staring at the superstructure. "These pods are not meant for Wolfkins. Or anyone with hair. Does he even understand how problematic it is to clean them?" She waved her hand to a group of waiting technicians.

"My pack!" Aranea stood up. "How are they? Are they alive?" Marco placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Yuki never returned, and Kostya is dead. Eventually, a body will be cloned for him to ensure a proper send-off."

The wolf hag's heart slowed, and her fingers clenched in anger. They had been with her from the beginning. They ate together, fought side by side, and had fun as one. She recalled the empty holes in Kostya's head. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for failing you.

"Sly is at the southwest armory; he recovered from his wounds first. He said that he is working on the promised gift and insisted you be present when you wake up. Kaleb and Kate are in the hospital. The worst is over, and their replacement limbs are growing as we speak. Visit them first, if you're able."

"Sure." Yuki. Kostya. Her pack. So much for her being a better leader than Sonya. Stop making it about yourself, dolt! Think of Sly! "Not to sound ungrateful, but what are you doing here?"

"Until the end of this conflict, the Free World has officially joined the Reclamation Army and condemned the committed atrocity," Marco said. "I'm not thrilled about it, but we saw what had happened. King lied; his goons were the ones responsible for the massacre. WWB journalists had filmed the entire event from afar, evacuating alongside the state's troops. Then, Scorpio contacted us and offered us full-time employment, insisting that we would rescue more people this way." Marco paused. "Superiors agreed. I know they aren't wrong. But… please excuse me, Aranea. It feels wrong to take sides publicly. We were always free."

"Times change," Aranea said, sympathizing with the brave man. "Your freedom is important, but if surrendering it enables you to help more people, then it's a worthwhile trade. Consider Outsider or Devourer. They're strong enough, gods in their own right, able to do whatever they want, yet they willingly bind themselves with laws to set an example…" Oh, right. Ravager. She hugged him. "Sorry. I am blabbering about things I don't understand. I know only how to fight. It's just right now I…" The wolf hag let him go, unsure of what to say or how to describe her feelings. She felt confused, hurt, and lost. "Let's drop the topic; my fangs are chattering. It's not my place to teach you or try to appear wiser than I am. Can you point me outside before I turn into an ice statue?"

"No harm done." Marco led her to the small doors standing next to the thirty-meter-tall gates. "Wyrm Lord assigned an individual to your pack to guide you around here. She's waiting outside. A… very peculiar character. Be aware." Marco refused to elaborate and joined the gray-haired doctor to discuss recent patients.

Aranea examined her body and walked toward the door, clenching and unclenching her right arm. Not a single scar marred her skin. Every scar, even those she would've liked to preserve for memory's sake, had vanished without a trace. Muscles rolled freely under her skin; fingers obeyed readily, prepared for murder. She was whole, and for the sake of her troops, she would push through her mental struggles.

Sly needed support. Kate needed reassurance that she wasn't to blame for Kostya. She also needed to check up on Kaleb and write to Kostya's family. There were too many things to do to cry over what had happened. She would weep for Yuki and Kostya later; currently, her attention belonged to the living. And the wicked must be punished. Blood price? She'll settle her debt with Blaguna.

"Tilden, Blaguna, Yasen, Academician," she whispered, approaching the door with the trail of wet footprints in her wake.

It opened with a soft hiss, letting out a gust of warm air and revealing a row of doors along the tunnel's walls. Aranea stepped inside, unsure where her guide was supposed to be, when the strangest individual walked out of another room.

A humanoid woman, with soft blond hair reaching her shoulders, gifted the shocked Aranea a wide smile. Normality ended here. The rest of her body differed from anything Aranea had ever seen. Her thick, muscular arms and legs ended in three-fingered, clawed hands and feet. Black wings folded behind the woman's back, and their membranes reminded Aranea of a gargoyle from a fantasy story she had once read. Pale scales, with a very light pink hue, covered her entire body. A large tail, reaching the floor, protruded from her pelvis. Vertical, snake-like pupils stared out from radiant pools. A form-fitting bodyglove covered her from the elbows to the knees. On her ears, she wore old-fashioned headphones connected by a wire to a tape recorder at her waist. She took them off, briefly filling the corridor with loud rock music, then turned them off.

"Aranea!" she screamed merrily, opening her mouth full of needle fangs. "My bad for not being present at your awakening; had to sort out a thing." The strange woman grabbed the wolf hag into a hug, lifting her up. Up close, she smelled of a lemon perfume.

Don't show aggression; she is not challenging you! Aranea chided herself, perplexed by this occurrence. The stranger lacked distorted, uneven features, so she couldn't be a mutant or a Malformed. "What… who are you?" she whispered.

"Oh, how silly of me." Still holding Aranea, the woman returned her to the floor. "I'm Leila, ward of Ivar Murzaliev, but don't let it bother you; the old demon is on the front."

"Are you a wyrm, then? You look like one." Aranea tried to make sense of the situation.

"Me? Oh no, not even close! Just a half-wyrm. Maybe even less. Compared to true wyrms, I'm still too small. It'll be years before I transform," Leila said carelessly. "Who cares, right? You have such wonderful eyes. Can you tell me how you got the crimson one?"

"No, it is a story from my past." Aranea wondered what her deal was. Was she even in the military? "It's my private secret."

"Secret? I love secrets!" The wings flapped. "I know, I'll trade yours for one… no, two of mine! Oh, I can also give you my tapes to listen to. I bought these from Iterna itself. They are of the heavy metal genre, perfect to get your mood pumping." Aranea shook her head. "Come on, I'm writing an encyclopedia of the local lands and people. Help me out; I need all the juicy info I can get, not the sterile versions. No one enjoys blandness. My secrets are tasty morsels; you'll be biting your elbows if you don't learn them."

Suddenly, Leila stopped talking and hit her own face with a fist, crumpling it. The Wolfkin worried she had broken her nose when a loud bang echoed through the tunnel like an explosion from a grenade, but when Leila removed her hand, there wasn't even a bruise.

"Sorry." The woman bowed. "You've been through a meat grinder, and I'm pestering you with this idiocy. Come, let's dry you off and get you dressed before you catch a cold."

The half-wyrm dragged the wolf hag by the hand into the nearest room, which ended up being a bathroom. Leila shoved Aranea into the shower, ignoring all complaints, and pressed a button. Steam covered the shower stall as a stream of warm water poured down. While Aranea cleaned herself of the black substance, Leila left the room at hurricane speed and returned with a pile of clothes.

"I bet some of these are out of fashion by now, but in my defense, I used to wear them back when I had smooth skin like everyone else, and it was years ago. Nonetheless, they should fit your size. Would you rather wear a dress or…" inquired Leila.

"Can't I have my regular clothes?" Aranea examined the pile with suspicion.

"Absolutely not. They might be okay for an out-of-town trip." The half-wyrm frowned and wrinkled her nose in disgust. "But people must pay attention to their appearance when they can. It's part of living a healthy lifestyle! You've got to love yourself!"

"Sure. This is coming from a woman wearing a skintight… scale-tight spandex," Aranea retorted, choosing green pants with black spirals running down them and an orange jacket full of zippers. She pondered a little and also took a silver choker, checking herself in the mirror.

"Cute to see that you still have the energy for banter in you. I was worried that you might shut yourself away because of what happened."

"I am not that fragile. Don't have the right to be. Not if I want to protect my troops and our people to the best of my abilities."

"If you ever want to talk about the horrible events, knock at my door at any time. Believe it or not, I'm actually a good listener and know how it feels to lose people dear to you," solemnly said the one-day-would-be-wyrm and grabbed Aranea by the paw and dragged her along without warning.

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