Captain Cassian sat in the cold chamber, the echo of his confrontation with Valen still ringing in his ears. He rubbed his temples, drained and sore. "My lord," he began, his voice strained. "I must inquire about the necessity of... extreme measures. The trap. Should the truth get out that my men were the killers at your behest, we risk another uprising."
Lord Aldric leaned back, his eyes glinting. "Do not question my orders, Cassian. Their existence is a stain upon Calamor's purity. The peace treaty was a sham to appease the weak-hearted." His voice grew softer, conspiratorial. "The slave trade is a means to that end. A purge is inevitable."
Cassian's hand tightened on the hilt of his sword. "The treaty was your word. To break it so publicly would bring war to our doors." He took a defensive step forward. "We must consider the consequences."
"Ah, but the beastfolk are already in my grasp." A smug smile played on Aldric's lips. "I've made... arrangements with their leaders. Their so-called 'freedom' is as much a sham as our peace." He steepled his fingers. "The uprising was a setback that allowed us to identify the true threats. Now, their leaders are bent to my will, as loyal as any dog to its master. They bring us their own criminals, we… dispose of them to better the lives of our human citizens."
Cassian's jaw clenched. "And those who refuse to be leashed?"
"That's where you're wrong." Aldric's smile widened. "Their very essence is bound to my will. Through ancient dark arts, I've ensured that those who oppose me are... persuaded. Any beastfolk who has set foot in that village is under the influence of my magic."
A chill ran down Cassian's spine. "Enslavement magic," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. "That is a forbidden art." He stepped back, his hand moving to his sword.
"Caution. You forget who holds your reins. I only need to tell your men you are in league with Valen, and your body will decorate the main square." Aldric paced slowly. "The two decades of peace Calamor has enjoyed were funded by this very magic. The King is a practical man. He cares not for the origins of his gold, only that it fills his coffers." His smile turned predatory. "Find yourself on the right side of history. Start by cleaning out our human vermin. Get them out of sight."
Cassian's blood boiled, but he knew better than to oppose Aldric after such a direct threat. He nodded stiffly. "As you command, my lord." He turned on his heel and exited, his thoughts racing.
The crisp morning air did nothing to lift the burden from his shoulders. The revelation of enslavement magic filled him with a sickening disgust. He walked with his head hung low, thinking of the people forced into the shadows by the system he served—the homeless, the destitute, the sex workers. They were not burdens; they were human, each with a story. The false belief that some chose this life never sat right with him. His heart ached, and his resolve hardened. He had to find a way to break the chains, both literal and figurative. His next move would determine the fate of countless lives.
---
Back at the Crescent Moon, Luna paced. Valen and Mona were gone, but where?
A memory surfaced: Mona speaking fondly of Grinter, of a place Valen had taken her, a haven for those like her. It was the only logical choice.
Her mind, a storm of grief and a new, possessive fear, seized on it. He's taking her away. He's taking everything. She had to save Mona, to pull her back from the human who had already cost her so much. She grabbed parchment and quill, her hand trembling with a desperate resolve. "They've gone to Grinter," she scrawled, sealing the note with a dollop of wax and her thumbprint. She slid it under Fioré's door, then scurried away into the night, her heart a drum of vengeance and a desperate, romantic hope.
—
Cassian approached the Crescent Moon as the midday hours crept in. He stopped the first girl he saw. "I need to speak with Fioré. It's a matter of life and death." The urgency in his tone was the inverse of his usual calm. He didn't wait for a reply, striding through the corridor to her office and pushing the door open.
The room was silent. His eyes scanned the area and found a piece of parchment on the floor. As he bent to pick it up, Fioré entered from behind.
Her eyes narrowed at the note in his hand. She moved with silent grace and plucked it from his grip. "What is the meaning of this?" Her voice was cool, but tension coiled in her frame. "You have no right to invade my privacy, Cassian." She folded her arms, her gaze demanding an explanation. But before he could speak, her composure cracked, the anger she'd been stifling finally boiling over. "And don't think I've forgotten the blood on your hands, Captain. Bloodshed was not part of our arrangement. I gave you Valen. You were supposed to bring him in, not get a girl killed!"
Cassian flinched, the accusation hitting its mark. He held his hands up in a placating gesture, his own guilt etched on his face. "It was never meant to happen," he said, his voice low and thick with remorse. "The ambush... it got out of control. My men were jumpy, the beastfolk fought back... it was chaos. One of my guards—he panicked. He slit the girl's throat before I could even give an order." He looked away, the memory vivid and sickening. "It was a brutal, stupid accident. But Aldric... he saw an opportunity. He's using her body, her death, to publicly frame Valen for the murder. He's twisting my failure into his propaganda."
He met Fioré's furious gaze, his own filled with a desperate sincerity. "I am sorry. Truly. But Aldric is the one who turned that tragedy into a weapon. He's the one using her death to justify a war against his own citizens."
Fioré stared at him, her chest heaving. The clarification—that it was a panicked accident, not a cold-blooded execution—did little to mollify her. If anything, the sheer pointless waste of it made her angrier. "An accident?" she whispered, her voice dangerously soft. "Her name was Millie. She was Luna's sister. And your 'accident' has broken one of my girls and given a tyrant his martyr." She threw the note onto her desk, her hand trembling. "So, what is this new 'disturbing' thing you've uncovered, Cassian? What fresh horror have you brought to my door?"
"The peace is a facade," he said, his jaw tight. "Lord Aldric is using dark magic to enslave the beastfolk leaders. Their will is not their own."
Her eyes widened, the new horror cutting through her anger. She knew the danger of such magic. Her mind raced, connecting this to Luna. She believes Valen did this. I have to tell her. But I haven't see her for a few… No…
The note on her desk. She unfolded it, her movements sharp with renewed urgency. She recognized the writing as Luna's. All that waited were three, trembling sentences.
'They've gone to Grinter. I'll stop him there, Fioré. For all of us.'
Without another word to Cassian, she snatched a cloak. "We will discuss your failures later," she said, her voice clipped. "I have to stop her." She dashed out, leaving him alone in the office, the weight of their shared complicity hanging heavy in the air.
---
The night air was cool against Luna's fur as she stalked through the shadows of Grinter. She had found them. Now she watched, her eyes gleaming with a fury that was both for her lost sister and for the catgirl standing so trustingly beside the human. Her grip tightened on the knife. She waited until they turned down a deserted alley, then sprang from the shadows, blocking their path.
Luna's charcoal fur bristled, the knife glinting in the weak light. She glared at Valen, her eyes pools of accusation. "You," she hissed. "What have you done to Millie?" Her gaze flicked to Mona, a possessive, desperate edge to her voice. "You need to leave, now. He's dangerous."
Valen's eyes narrowed, his muscles tensing. "What's going on here?" His voice was calm, but his hand moved subtly towards his whip. He looked from Luna to Mona. "What are you talking about, Luna?" He took a step closer. "Mona, is something wrong?"
Mona's ears flattened, her tail dropping. "Luna, please," she began, her voice shaky. "It's not what you think." She took a step back, eyes pleading. "Valen, tell her."
The memory of the docks crashed over Valen.. "Luna, wait!" he exclaimed, raising his hands. "The catgirl at the docks... it wasn't me. Cassian's men killed her." His gaze was steady on her trembling form. "I know it's hard to believe, but you have to trust me."
The words meant nothing. They were a human's lies, obscuring the truth she felt in her bones. With a guttural cry, she lunged.
Valen's instincts saved him. He sidestepped, his hand shooting out to grab her wrist. The blade sliced through his sleeve, biting into his flesh. He grimaced. "Luna, please," he begged, his grip firm. "This isn't the way. We're on the same side."
"Liar!" Luna screamed, her eyes wild. She ripped her hand free, the knife slashing in a desperate arc and finding his side. A hot line of pain made him gasp. She stepped back, panting, tears streaming. "You didn't have to get involved," she hissed, her voice hoarse. "You didn't have to bring this on us." Her gaze shifted to Mona, trembling with a devastating mix of grief and jealousy. "You didn't have to get her killed. My sister." She stumbled back, eyes hollow. "My Millie."
Mona watched in horror, Valen's blood a stark betrayal. She leaped forward, her own claws extending. "No, Luna, stop!" she cried, her voice frayed with fear. She tried to place herself between them. "It's not his fault, please!" Her yellow eyes darted between them, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm.
Luna's eyes snapped to Mona, the fury momentarily broken by confusion. The knife lowered a fraction. "Mona, I don't understand," she said, her voice trembling. "How can you defend him?" The rage hadn't vanished; it was now mixed with the sting of perceived betrayal.
"Luna," Mona whispered, her voice shaking as she took a step closer, her claws retracting slightly. "I know you're hurting. I know you want someone to blame." Her tail swished nervously. "But Valen isn't the enemy. He's been helping us." She reached out a tentative hand. "Please, Luna. We're all fighting for the same thing. Don't let our pain drive us apart." Her voice broke. "You taught me what love is. And I… I love you, Luna. Please…"
The plea only seemed to fuel Luna's despair. She launched herself at Valen again, a vessel of pure, unthinking grief. The blade sank deep into his side with a sickening crunch.
Mona watched in horror, but it was Valen's reaction that froze her blood. He didn't cry out in anger. He didn't reach for his whip. He just… accepted it. A guttural gasp, a stagger, his hand clutching the wound as his eyes screwed shut in pain. When they opened, they found Luna's, and they were filled with a sorrow so profound it looked like surrender.
"Luna, stop!" Mona screamed, her own claws extending. A protective fury, white-hot and simple, overtook her. She lunged for Luna, ready to scratch and bite to pull her away from the man who was just letting himself be carved apart.
A strong, blood-slicked hand caught her wrist. Valen. His grip was weak, but the command in it was absolute.
"Mona, no," he choked out, his voice a ragged whisper. He pushed her back, gently but firmly, putting himself between the two catfolk once more. Fresh blood welled between his fingers.
"But she's—!" Mona protested, her voice cracking.
"It's my fault," Valen said, the words not loud, but carrying a finality that silenced the alley. His gaze was locked on Luna, but his words were for Mona, an apology and a lesson. "I brought this. My fight... my war... it leaves bodies in its wake." He took a shuddering breath, wincing. "Millie. And now... now it's hurting you. Through her." He finally looked at Mona, and the broken acceptance in his eyes was worse than any anger. "This is the cost. This is what I owe."
He was taking the weight of the world onto his shoulders, and Mona saw in that moment that he would let Luna kill him if it paid some imagined debt. The fighter was gone, replaced by a martyr in the making. The realization terrified her more than the knife.
Witnessing this, something in Mona broke in a different way. It wasn't just fear for him now; it was a rebellion against his surrender. With a fierce growl born of this new, complex terror, she shoved Luna away—not to attack, but to break the terrible trance between them. Her claws gleamed in the moonlight. "Luna, stop!" she screamed, her eyes wild. "Can't you see? You're killing him!"
Luna staggered back from the shove, the knife clattering to the cobblestones. The sound echoed in the sudden silence. She stared at Mona, her own claws retracting, the anger in her eyes finally wavering under the shock of Mona's defense of him. "Mona?" she breathed. The sight of Valen, blood seeping through his fingers, brought the reality of her actions crashing down. The rage dissolved, leaving only a hollow, sickening guilt. Her eyes darted from the knife to Mona's tense, ready form. "I didn't mean to..." she whispered, the words dying in her throat.
---
Fioré followed the trail of screams. Rounding the corner, the scene seared itself into her mind: Luna with the knife, Valen bleeding on the ground. "Child, no!" she bellowed, horror and disbelief propelling her forward. She threw her arms around Luna, pulling her into a tight embrace, her eyes on the grim scene. "What have you done?" she whispered into the catgirl's ear, feeling her tremble. Her own heart ached, knowing the city's darkness had fueled this.
Mona's mind cleared into a single, sharp purpose: survival. She bent, gritting her teeth as she took Valen's weight. "We need to get him to a healer." She took off, her tail straight and low, her focus locked on the alleys leading to the healer's quarter. Valen's blood seeped into her clothes, warm and terrifying. "Hold on, Valen," she whispered into his ear, her breath ragged. "You're going to be okay." The streets of Grinter blurred as she ran.
The world spun around Luna. The knife on the ground, Valen's wound, Fioré's shock, Mona's retreating back—it was a nightmare. "Mona," she whispered, before the words erupted in a panicked, broken litany. "I didn't mean to… I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to! " She looked down at her shaking, empty hands. "Fioré," she choked out, tears overflowing, "I didn't know what else to do."
Fioré held her tightly, her own voice thick. "Luna, he's not to blame," she whispered, stroking her fur. "We've all been blinded by fear." She looked toward where Mona had vanished. "And the only one who has truly lost everything here is you." The words hung heavy with regret. "You've lost your sister, your innocence. I'm so sorry, Luna. I failed to protect you from this, and I've lost you in it."
---
Mona's paws pounded the cobblestone, each step a jolt through Valen's limp body. His breathing was shallow, his head lolling against her chest. The warmth of his blood was a horrifying clock counting down. She spotted the crimson glow of a healer's sign and burst through the door. "Please," she panted, her voice raw, "help him."
An aging elf priest took one look and ushered them in. Mona laid Valen on the wooden table, her tail lashing with anxiety. "I'll pay anything," she murmured, her eyes fixed on his pale face. "Just save him."
The healer's gaze softened at her distress. "The wound is deep, and his life force is faint. I cannot promise it will be quick, or easy. But I will try." He chanted in a low tongue, his hands glowing as they worked over the grievous wounds. The air grew thick with herbs and blood. Valen's body jerked as the magic took hold. Mona's tail wrapped around his hand, her grip tightening as she leaned in, whispering desperate, comforting words. She searched for any sign of him behind his glazed eyes.
As the healer worked, Mona's thoughts were a whirlwind of shared moments—his patience, his kindness, the fragile, new feeling of safety he sparked in her. The fear of losing it was a physical weight. Her ears lay flat, and she closed her eyes, breathing in short gasps.
Fioré and Luna arrived, disheveled and panting. Luna's eyes found Valen on the table, and a choked sound escaped her. She hovered near the doorway, as if the sight of him was a physical barrier she couldn't cross. "Mona," she stammered, her voice small, her tail tucked tight under her legs. "Is he...?"
Mona's eyes flicked up, brimming with unshed tears. The sight of Luna sent a fresh wave of anger and pain through her, but the exhaustion was greater. She looked back at Valen, her grip on his hand unwavering. Her gaze did not deviate again. "He'll make it," she murmured, her voice trembling. Say it for Luna. He has to. Right? "The healer says so. He's strong."
A long, heavy silence filled the room, broken only by the healer's low chant and Valen's ragged breathing. Luna seemed to shrink under the weight of it. Finally, she whispered, the words cracking, "I'm so sorry. I didn't know... I didn't know what I was doing."
Slowly, deliberately, Mona turned her head. Her yellow eyes, still glistening, met Luna's. The anger was gone, replaced by a deep, weary hurt that was somehow worse.
"We all make mistakes, Luna," she began, her voice low, each word measured and careful, as if she was trying out a new, difficult way of speaking that she'd learned from the man on the table.
"But what you did... it wasn't just a mistake. It was a choice. You chose to see a monster. Not the man who... who protects me. Who feeds me. Who taught me my letters." Her voice hitched. "You chose your... your vengeance... over my safety."
Luna flinched, fresh tears welling. "I was trying to protect you—"
"From what?" Mona's question wasn't a shout, but a sharp, pained plea. "From the only person who ever gave me a home? You saw me with him, and you got... jealous." She fumbled for the word Valen had once used, but its meaning was clear. "Your hurt made you blind. And it almost took him from me."
She looked back at Valen, her tail tightening around his wrist. "I love you, Luna. You are my friend. My first friend." She took a shaky breath, gathering her thoughts. "But right now, I need you to understand the cost. What you almost broke."
Mona's gaze returned to Luna, firm yet pleading. "We can't just... go back. Not after this. Justice for Millie won't come from more blood. It has to come from the truth." She paused, then added, her voice softening just a fraction with a hard-learned wisdom, "And maybe... from us learning to be better than the people who hurt us."
It wasn't forgiveness. Not yet. It was a line drawn in the sand, a painful, necessary accounting of the damage. But in Mona's words, in her struggle to articulate the profound betrayal she felt, there was a fragile bridge—one built not on forgetting, but on the desperate, shared hope that they could someday rebuild what had been shattered.