I finally say what I've been holding back.
"This feral has leechsteel."
Gary doesn't answer immediately. He scans me first. My eyes. My arm. My leechsteel.
"I'm not worried about the metal," he says at last.
"The feral?" I ask.
"In alchemy," he says, "they're no more than dogs. Just common grade at most."
"Common?" Ashlynn asks.
Gary exhales through his nose. "That's what we believed."
He stops there and doesn't explain further.
I turn to the feral, it is smiling at me.
Not wide but it feels measured and uneasy.
I avoid its eyes. My heart isn't pounding—but the calm doesn't feel safe. Yet the leechsteel stays warm and alert.
Gary pulls a note from his coat.
"This isn't the specimen in the description," he says, angling the paper just enough for us to see without stepping closer.
"The one documented had three tails," he continues. "This one doesn't."
He folds the note and slides it back into his pocket.
Ashlynn swallows. "We should leave and lock this thing inside."
"HAHAHA!"
The feral's laugh echoes loud.
"Help me," It turns its head toward Ashlynn and licks its lips slowly. Black liquid spills from the corner of its mouth, stringing down its chin without falling.
"Goodbye," it says.
Ashlynn looks away immediately and moves for the door. We follow. As we leave Ashlynn turns to the chamber door. She works the door quick with practiced speed.
Click.
The containment chamber seals.
"Hopefully it doesn't follow us," Ashlynn says.
I don't answer right away.
"It won't," I say finally, trying to assure her.
She steps closer and hugs me. I hug her back. Her body is warm, her shoulders are rigid so are mine.
Cough.
Gary clears his throat—too deliberate to be reflex.
We separate. Stretch. Our joints crack in the quiet.
"Months of work," Gary taps his pocket, the one where he slipped the notes into. "Almost done. All that's left is getting out."
"How?" I ask.
"We climb."
"To the first floor?" Ashlynn asks. Her brows draw together, but her eyes didn't follow.
"No. Fourth."
"What's there?" I ask.
Gary looks at us. Just long enough to measure something.
"You'll see," he pauses a bit. "If we're not late."
Another beat.
"The prisoners we let out won't last forever."
Ashlynn's hand flies to her mouth, then drops just as quickly—like she's afraid of what she might say if it stays there.
Gary doesn't look at her and walks.
No one says anything. The silence is tense and awkward.
I watch Ashlynn instead. She looks smaller somehow. Tighter. Like something heavy settled in her chest and decided to stay.
I don't try to comfort her.
I was part of it.
We continue and leave the corridor.
The hallway beyond the door is filled with piles of bodies.
Faceless guards or what's left of them. Stacked where they fell.
Ashlynn walks behind me now. She doesn't look at the bodies. She watches the walls instead, like they might start moving.
"The prisoners might end up like these," she murmurs.
I turn to her as we walk.
"I don't know how long this will listen," I say as I flex my right arm. "But right now—I think I can protect you."
The leechsteel shifts, subtle but responsive.
Gary turns his head and notices. "The leechsteel is almost calibrated," Gary says.
"How do you know?" I ask.
"Because it listened that time," he replies. "Once it's calibrated, you can reshape it."
He slows, pointing at my leechsteel.
"Weapon. Shield. Tool," he adds, quieter. "When it listens."
He pauses.
"A key?" I ask.
Gary smiles thinly. "If you know what you're unlocking, friend."
"So it's special," I say.
"Hahahaha."
Gary laughs once.
"Just because most people don't use it doesn't mean it can't be mass produced," he says. "Alchemy scales." He exhales. "People don't."
"Most people don't even know alchemy exists," Ashlynn adds quietly. "I didn't."
I don't respond and we keep on walking.
The stairwell door waits at the end of the corridor.
We stop before it.
"Ashlynn. Your turn."
She reaches the door then kneels and works it.
Click.
It doesn't take long this time.
I pull her back and open the door only partway.
Sound rushes immediately. The stairwell railing vibrates.
Echoing through stone and iron.
Screaming.
Not here.
Above us.
I shut the door and turn.
"People are screaming upstairs," I point upward.
"Good," Gary nods. "They're busy."
"And when the screaming stops?" Ashlynn asks, looking at Gary.
Gary meets her eyes. "Then we're late."
I open the door again.
We enter the stairwell one by one, looking upward.
The screams follow us as we climb—never touching the fifth floor, only growing louder the higher we go.
Ashlynn covers her ears and closes her eyes
I don't.
I stay by her side, guiding her steps.
Then—the screaming cuts off all at once.
By then, we're already at the fourth-floor door.
Ashlynn doesn't wait. She immediately works the door. Her fingers slip once. Just once.
Click.
The door opens.
Fourth floor.
Not safe.
But open.
And that's enough.