Varga walked over with heavy steps, into the cabin and sat at Femi's side. The fur-lined cloak draped over her shoulders brushed against Femi's makeshift bed as she settled beside him.
Yippe, Yippe
Victim, Femi's scrawny wolf pup, had stationed itself loyally at his side, keeping watch over its fallen master. The little beast perked up at her approach, its ears twitching as it greeted her with a high-pitched whine. Varga nodded at the creature, it may be small, but was fiercely devoted. It had been surprisingly helpful, if only in keeping Femi company during his unconscious struggle. Right now, she'd take anything to keep him tethered to the living.
Femi, however, didn't stir.
With careful fingers, she pulled the covers down just enough to examine him. His small body was wrapped tightly in bandages, the sharp scent of strong medicinal herbs clinging to him, bitterroot and frostbloom, likely, mixed with something to stave off infection. The wrappings were stained in places, dark patches where blood had seeped through before clotting.
She couldn't even tell if he was still breathing.
In all honesty, he looked dead.
The thought twisted something inside her. She had fully expected him to die that day, after the Harpy Queen's talons had carved through his soft belly. Even the old Krag herb-man, with his gnarled hands and milky eyes, had shaken his head and muttered that his chances were slim.
But what had struck her most wasn't the blood, nor the way his breath had come in ragged, faltering gasps, it was his eyes.
Even as he bled out in her arms, his gaze hadn't been filled with fear. Just… acceptance.
And that had triggered something deep within her.
She couldn't let him go like this.
She had snarled at the herb-man, forcing him to do everything possible, every herbs, every stitch, everything. The elder had protested, insisting the ratling wouldn't survive the night.
But Femi had proved him wrong.
Even now, despite the stillness of his body, he clung to life with a stubbornness that impressed her greatly.
Her frown deepened as she leaned closer, pressing her ear against his chest. The herb-man had instructed her to check his heartbeat regularly, to see if he was still alive.
Thump… thump…
A slow, weak rhythm met her ear, as if it would stop at any moment.
A strange tightness coiled in her chest as she pulled the blanket back up, tucking it securely around him. The cold wasn't kind to the wounded.
"Try not to die… Femi," she whispered.
"VARGA!"
Tarlak's voice took her out of her thoughts and it sounded urgent.
Tarlak, another survivor of the Eri attack, a competent scout, a steady warrior, stood at the cabin's entrance
She sighed, the weight of leadership pressing down on her once more. After one last lingering look at Femi's still form, she pushed herself to her feet.
"Look after him, pup," she commanded Victim.
"Yipp!" the little wolf responded, as if understanding.
With a final nod, she turned toward Tarlak, her boots thudding against the wooden floorboards.
"Does he still live?" Tarlak asked, his voice low.
"Yes. He does," she replied, sharper than she intended.
Tarlak's mouth quirked in a small grin. "I knew he was strong. He may still have a chance."
"He just may" she answered.
Her patience, already frayed, wore thinner. "So what do you want, Tarlak? I have much to take care of. You'd best be brief."
His expression sobered. "We found something troubling. It needs your attention."
Her fingers twitched. "What did you find?"
Tarlak shook his head. "You have to see it yourself. I don't want to make assumptions."
Another sigh escaped her. She'd been sighing a lot these past few days, ever since Arieus had left her with this damned responsibility.
Her gaze flicked back to Femi one last time before she motioned for Tarlak to lead the way.
As they strode toward the camp's entrance, the wind at their faces, she couldn't help but wonder what Femi would say in a moment like this.
Probably something ridiculous and strange.
"My enemies plot against me," he'd mutter in that serious way of his.
The thought almost made her snort.
Come back, little rat.
-------
"I think you've done your job quite well." A feminine voice echoed through the room.
The room itself seemed to hold its breath, after those words as if waiting.
"Hello, Femi, my little rodent." The words seemed to come from all directions at once, wrapping around Femi like threads. He spun around frantically, his claws scraping against the floor as he tried to locate the source. The air itself seemed to vibrate with unseen energy.
"Who are you?" he demanded, his whiskers twitching violently. His brown eyes darted from corner to corner, searching the shadows for any sign of movement.
Outside the window, the world darkened unnaturally fast, as if the sun had been snuffed out in an instant. The demonic woman and her monstrous children, frozen mid-transformation just moments before, now crowded around Femi with grotesque grins before dissolving into wisps of black smoke. Within seconds, he stood alone in the empty room, the fake jollof rice still steaming on the table, its once-appetizing aroma now smelling stale and artificial.
"Come on, little rat," it teased, the words dripping with playful condescension. "By now you're supposed to get it."
Femi's fur bristled. He turned sharply and that's when he felt it. A presence. Something vast. Something behind him.
Where the demonic woman had once sat, there now rested a glorious figure but trying to focus on it was like trying to stare directly at the sun. His vision blurred at the edges, his eyes burning with the effort. The figure pulsed with radiant energy, its form shifting and indistinct, as if existing in multiple dimensions at once.
"Ah, don't try to look too hard," the voice warned, its tone laced with amusement.
But the warning came to late for Femi's was already mesmerized by what he saw. As if his mind turned off and was filled with only thoughts of; He had to see. He needed to know.
His pupils dilated violently as he strained..
...and then his eyes burst.
Blood streamed down his furry face in thick rivulets. He screamed, a high-pitched, agonized sound, his claws flying up to cover his ruined eyes. "What is going on?" he shrieked, his voice cracking with pain and terror.
The voice sighed, almost disappointed. "I told you not to look too hard." A pause. "I can't quite control what's going on in your mind, so this is the best I can do for now. You won't see my full figure."
Then the glorious figure let out a soft, melodic chuckle. "My beauty is quite blinding."
Femi groaned in pain, his body curling in on itself. "Who are you?" he gasped, forcing himself to keep his eye less gaze lowered. "Are you a new demon come to torment me?"
Instead of answering, the voice hummed.
It was a melody unlike anything Femi had ever heard, soothing like the ringing of temple bells. The sound resonated in his bones, stirring something deep within him, something primal. He could feel himself getting lighter, and he felt the pain in his eyes ease, before...
"Wait," Femi whispered, his bloodied eyes widening. A memory surfaced, goblin, blue light, a Skeleton, his hand replaced with ...."You're... you're the Mamy Water who gave me my arm after that fight with the... the Skeleton boss in the... the .... That evil Dungeon.
"Ding Ding, correct."
The radiant figure stood, its movements fluid and otherworldly, stepping closer until it loomed over Femi's tiny form.
"Yes, I am," the voice confirmed. Then, after a thoughtful pause: "As for my name... hmm... It's not mamay water ... please call me ...Melin, if you will."
Femi stumbled back, his mind just figuring out she appeared before him. He gave her some distance as the name echoed in his skull, unfamiliar yet weighted with meaning. "Melin?" he repeated, his voice barely a squeak. "What does that mean?"
The figure tilted its head or at least, Femi thought it did. It was hard to tell when looking at it made his brain ache.
"It means," Melin said softly, "that you're not in hell, little rat. You're somewhere far more interesting."
Femi's whiskers twitched violently as conflicting emotions warred across his rodent features. His claws dug into the concrete floor, leaving tiny grooves as he weighed his options.
"So," Melin continued, her voice carrying an undercurrent of amusement, "if you wish to know more about why I brought you here, follow me." With an elegant wave of her hand that left trailing motes of light in its wake, she gestured toward a door that hadn't existed moments before. It materialized from the very air, its surface carved with intricate patterns that seemed to shift when looked at directly.
Femi's nose wrinkled as he studied the mysterious portal. The wood grain pulsed faintly, as if breathing, and the brass doorknob gleamed with unnatural brightness. His chest rose and fell rapidly beneath his fur as he considered his next move.
"Okay," he finally conceded, but his voice was laced with suspicion "I'll follow you."He lifted a clawed paw to point accusingly. "As long as you're not leading me to my death."
Melin's laughter filled the room, the sound somehow both beautiful and unsettling. The walls themselves seemed to shiver in response to her mirth. "Of course not," she assured him, though her grin widened in a way that suggested she found his suspicion endlessly entertaining.
"Come."
As they approached the mysterious door, Femi noticed strange details , the carvings now clearly depicted scenes of rats in various heroic poses, their tiny forms battling monstrous creatures. The brass knob turned on its own with an audible click just before they reached it, swinging inward to reveal a passageway that defied comprehension. The space beyond shimmered like a heat mirage, the walls appearing to be made of liquid gold one moment and solid stone the next.
Melin crossed the threshold without hesitation, her bare feet gliding effortlessly over the shifting surface that rippled beneath her. The ground seemed to react to her presence, solidifying momentarily where she stepped before returning to its liquid state.
She turned back to Femi with unnatural grace, her movements flowing like water, and extended a hand that pulsed with an eerie inner luminescence. The light cast shifting shadows across the walls, making the carved rat figures appear to move in the flickering glow.
"I will show you something quite interesting," she promised, her voice carrying an undercurrent of excitement that set Femi's fur on end. Her tone suggested she was enjoying some private joke at his expense.
Femi risked another glance at her face and immediately regretted it. Her eyes burned with secrets and playful malice, the irises swirling with impossible colors that defied description. The colors in her irises swirled like oil on water, never settling on a single hue.
"Oh boy, I am a fool," Femi muttered to himself, his whiskers drooping in resignation. The realization hit him like a stone to the head. "Is this not the witch in dreams that takes your soul if you follow them?" His claws dug into deeper in the floor as he fought against the growing urge to flee.
Taking a deep breath that filled his lungs with energy. Femi's mind raced. "If Varga was here, she would call me a coward and walk right in," he thought bitterly, imagining his fierce companion's mocking glare.
Despite the fear coiling in his gut, Femi bared his teeth into a wide grin.
"It's a good thing I'm not Varga," he declared aloud, and with that, he spun on his hind legs and launched himself toward the nearest window, his powerful muscles propelling him through the air toward potential freedom.
But before he could reach the glass, a heavy sigh echoed through the room, seeming to come from the walls themselves. An invisible force grabbed hold of Femi mid-leap, yanking him backward with brutal force. His claws scraped uselessly against the floor as he was dragged toward the glowing doorway.
"I suspected you would do this, little rat," Melin's voice purred with dark amusement. "But unfortunately you are coming with me whether you like it or not."
"Nooooo!" Femi's screech tore through the air as he writhed against the magical bonds. His tail lashed wildly, his claws leaving deep gouges in the floor as he fought with every ounce of his strength. But the pull was inexorable, drawing him closer to that shimmering threshold with each passing second.
The last thing Femi saw before crossing over was the false reality of the house beginning to dissolve like smoke in the wind, the table with its untouched jollof rice fading into nothingness. Whatever lay beyond this threshold , whether wonder or horror , he would be forced to face it against his will as usual.
With one final, desperate squeak of protest, Femi was dragged through the doorway into the unknown, the portal snapping shut behind him.