The days were long. So long. Or maybe it was the nights. It was impossible to tell which was which.

She slept when she was tired, which was most of the time—or more accurately, she attempted to sleep when she was tired. A lot of the time, she just lay there curled in a ball, sometimes sobbing, but most of the time not even able to do that. Those infrequent occasions she wasn’t tired, she sat against the wall, staring at nothing, maybe picking at the mouldy bread they provided for food or sipping at the dirty water.

The little man with the mop of dirty grey hair spoke to her from time to time. She didn’t really listen. She was sure he meant well and was only trying to help, but there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t get her out of here, so whatever he had to say was pointless.

“Quilla.”

That was him again. That was what he called her. It was her name—she remembered that—but Quilla felt like a different life. It wasn’t her anymore. Might be her again one day. She hoped that would be the case, but she doubted it. This was her life from now on.

A nobody.

That was how her captors treated her, and that was what she was.

“Quilla.”

Sometimes, she’d instinctively start to respond, but she always cut herself off before she got a full word out. She had no intention of saying anything.

“You haven’t eaten your food again.” He held out a chunk of bread to her. “Please, you must eat something.”

She looked at him briefly before turning her eyes back to the floor. He was so dirty. Covered in mud and worse, half naked because his clothes had been torn and mostly shredded.

But he meant well, didn’t he?

She snatched the bread from him, and held it to her face. It was covered in mould and mud. With a scowl, she threw it across the cave and it rolled through the bars.

The Volg on the guard looked down at it as stopped close to its feet. It looked at her, its snout pulling back into a mockery of a smile. Very slowly and deliberately, it raised its foot and brought it back down again on top of the chunk of bread. Still making slow movements, it ground the bread into the dirt.

The little man groaned, said something she didn’t care to listen to, stood up, and wandered to the far side of the cave.

Maybe she was being too mean to him. He meant well, after all.

At the back of her head, that feeling that represented her lover stirred. Her lover was coming for her. At least, that was what she had believed however long ago it was. A day? A few days? A week? A month? Who the hell knew? She certainly had no idea. At any rate, she had believed her lover was coming to rescue her, but that lover had never arrived. Not yet. Maybe the lover was still coming, but she had pretty much given up hope of it ever happening.

Who was that lover anyway?

It was Vern, wasn’t it?

Yes, she was pretty certain of that.

It wasn’t Garet.

She wished it was Garet, but it wasn’t. Vern would have to do.

Except there was still no sign of Vern, other than that feeling in her head. It meant Vern was alive, but it said nothing about what Vern was doing.

And Annai.

She kept forgetting about Annai. She should stop doing that. Annai should be the one she was most concerned about, shouldn’t she?

She groaned and curled up in a ball again. All these names were giving her a headache. They required too much thinking. So she closed her eyes and attempted to sleep again.

She didn’t.

Or maybe she did.

It was hard to tell sometimes. Each moment seemed to merge into the next. It was possible she slept and didn’t know it.

“Quilla.”

There he went again. She ignored him.

“Quilla.”

She kept ignoring him.

“You’d do best to listen to him,” another voice said.

This one she wanted to ignore even more, but she knew she dared not. Last time… She didn’t want to think about last time.

She rose to her feet and raised her head to look at the bars.

It towered there, its horns sticking out in front of its face and almost sticking through the bars before bending straight up. It motioned to her. “Catalyst, come forward.”

She couldn’t remember its name, but that was fine. She didn’t want to know its name. She approached as it asked, however.

It sniffed her, then shook its head before speaking further. “You will be happy to know your transport will arrive soon.”

She stared at its chest.

“Nothing to say? No joy? No anger? Nothing?”

She said nothing.

“Still no answer? Do I need to remind you what happens when you refuse to answer me?”

No, she didn’t need to be reminded of that. It was hard to speak with such a dry mouth and throat, but she managed to croak, “Transport to where?”

The Volg chuckled and backed away from the bars. “Not as far as I would have preferred, but still quite far. It will be an uncomfortable trip, but don’t worry. You’ll be looked after.”

“Looked after?” the little man said. “I hope it’s better than she’s been looked after here.”

“Do you want what she got yesterday, Mister Condal?” the Volg said.

The little man scowled, but did not reply.

“Remember, I only need to ensure you retain the ability to speak. There are many things I could do to your arms or legs that would not affect your speech at all.”

“My apologies,” the little man said.

The Volg turned to the guard, and barked and screeched in those horrid sounds it considered a language. Then it left the cave.

She stood there a moment longer and looked at the guard, which gave no reaction. Then she turned and went back to her wall.

The little man came and sat near her. “You shouldn’t have thrown that bread away. He told the guard not to feed or water us tonight.”

She didn’t care. She wasn’t hungry anyway.

Her stomach grumbled, but that didn’t matter.

She wasn’t hungry.

She lay down in the mud and tried to sleep some more.

* * * * *

Quilla.

She opened her eyes.

The little man was snoring softly a short distance away. He hadn’t spoken.

There was a different Volg on guard now, but she doubted it had spoken. The voice hadn’t sounded like a Volg.

Oh well. It didn’t matter who had spoken. She closed her eyes again.

Quilla! I don’t know if you can hear me, but I’m coming! Just hold out a little longer.

Vern? Vern, is that you?

No reply.

She opened her eyes again. That had to have been Vern! Vern was coming at last!

No. She shouldn’t get her hopes up. Hope accomplished nothing. Hope just made things worse. She wasn’t going to hope. She closed her eyes once more.

Just a little longer.

Her heart beat a little faster. Maybe a little hope wasn’t a bad thing. Maybe her lover would be here soon.

She opened her eyes, sat up, and waited.

Vern didn’t come.

* * * * *

“Right! Up! Time to go!”

She didn’t remember falling asleep, but obviously she had. Not that it mattered.

“I said up!”

She opened her eyes, and sat up.

The big Volg with the stupid horns was back. Two other Volg warriors stood to either side of it. “Up!”

The little man, who was now by her side, held out a hand and helped her to her feet. “I’m sorry, Quilla. I don’t think they’re going to let me go with you.” He glanced at the big Volg. “They want me for something else.”

The big Volg motioned to one of the warriors. That one stepped forward, pulling out a ring of keys and unlocking the door of the cage. It stepped through, followed by the other warrior.

“Don’t resist,” the little man said. “They can’t kill you, but they can hurt you.”

One of the Volgs swatted the little man aside. Then they each took one of her arms and led her to the cage door. They pushed her through and the big Volg grabbed her by the shoulders in a tight, painful grip.

Part of her wanted to spit at it.

No, all of her wanted to spit at it.

Gods, that would be stupid. Where had that idea come from?

Perhaps your inner fire that you’ve buried away?

Vern?

The Volg sneered at her, and she prepared to spit at it.

But her mouth was too dry. She couldn’t gather the saliva.

The Volg turned her around as the the two warriors came one-by-one through the cage door. It then shoved her at them, and, after turning her around again, they each took one arm.

The big Volg started saying something in its horrid language, but stopped at a yell from outside the cave.

“Ofstakim!”

The big Volg looked towards the cave entrance and motioned to one of the warriors, which moved forward.

Something big and floppy flew into the cave and slammed into the Volg warrior’s face, knocking it back a few steps. It batted at the object, which fell to the ground in a tangle of broken limbs.

The object was a human body—one of the Darkers working with the Volgs. She’d seen the individual once or twice. She smiled. This was a deserved fate.

The two warriors and the guard all drew their swords, while the big Volg moved behind them. Coward.

A shape ran into the room, ducking between the Volgs’ legs, and avoiding their swords, which didn’t have a lot of room to move. The shape grabbed the big Volg’s arm and used it to flip around the Volg, landing on the ground with a yank on the Volg’s wings.

Hey babe. Just give me a moment, okay?

Gods, Vern looked great. The streak of red hair down the centre of her head. Her toned, muscular arms and legs. She didn’t stay in one spot long, next sliding between the big Volg’s legs as it turned to face her.

It was almost possible to see through Vern’s eyes as she leapt at one of the warriors, grabbing one of its horns and using it to swing out and kick one of the other Volgs in the face. Then she tore the horn out of the Volg’s forehead and tossed it through the bars of the cage.

For your collection. Don’t worry. I brought the rest, and there will be a few more soon.

Smiling, Quilla bent down to pick up the horn. Yes, Quilla. That was her name. It was okay to use it now. Hope was here.

Twirling the horn in her hands, she stood back up. There would be tears running down her face now if she wasn’t so dehydrated. As it was, there was a touch of moisture in her eyes.

Another horn landed at her feet, and she laughed. It was a hoarse laugh as her throat was so dry, and it hurt a little, but it felt good anyway.

Vern had a third horn in her hand, which she used to stab through the eye of the Volg she’d torn it from. It roared in pain and Vern pushed the horn in farther. The Volg fell backwards, Vern riding it to the ground and then leaping off. She yanked the horn out and tossed it to Quilla.

The big Volg was the only one left now.

Ofstakim! That was its name.

Not that she felt it deserved a name.

“Carcraime!” the big Volg yelled.

Breathing heavily, Vern opened her mouth, and the foul sounds of the Volg language came out. Quilla grimaced. It was wrong to be hearing such sounds from Vern, who looked so beautifully human. But she was in Vern’s head. So she could somehow understand those words.

“You know damn well I’m not carcraime, you bastard. I’m searching for my carcraime sister, and you’re in my way.”

“I am your section leader! To attack me or my men is the definition of being carcraime!”

Vern laughed. “Section leader? Ten years I’ve been searching. Not once have you offered assistance, resources, anything. Calling yourself my section leader is a joke.”

“This is the Catalyst. If you—”

“I don’t give a fuck! Nothing you say or do makes a damn bit of difference. I will do whatever is necessary to bring Lacquaime in, and you are not going to stop me.”

Vern leapt forward, twisting to the side as he tried to grab her, then slamming right into his other fist. It knocked her right back into the hand she had just avoided.

Pain shot through Quilla’s and Annai’s heads, and they both clutched at their necks as Ofstakim’s hand wrapped around Vern’s.

Ofstakim lifted Vern up with just the one hand, while she batted at its arms and her legs flailed about. “Or perhaps I will just kill a sad, Nyx-forsaken carcraime, who will shit herself in terror before she dies. Your pathetic father. Two carcraime daughters. He already lost his horns for the first. I suppose I’ll take his eyes this time.” He squeezed tighter.

Quilla couldn’t breathe. Except… she could, but it felt like she couldn’t. It was Vern who couldn’t. Vern who kept batting at Ofstakim’s arm. I’m sorry, Quilla. I’m so sorry. I love you. Goodbye.

At the back of Quilla’s head, Annai screamed. Vern’s presence faded, and Quilla could barely feel the pain any longer.

With a cry, Ofstakim loosened his grip and stumbled backwards. Vern’s presence was back in Quilla’s head, and she hit Ofstakim’s arm again, this time successfully bending it and forcing him to let go of her. She fell to the ground in a crouch.

Ofstakim roared. There was a long tear in one of its wings.

What the hell had happened?

A horn—one of the ones Vern had thrown into the cell—flew at the Volg and hit it in the eye. It stumbled back with a cry.

Quilla looked at the ground. Except for the first one, she hadn’t picked them up yet. Who…?

The little man—Jakka! that was his name—laughed. Quilla had completely forgotten he was even there.

Vern leapt at Ofstakim again. It tried to swat her aside, but she wrapped herself around its arm and yanked.

There was a loud crack and the Volg screamed. It shoved Vern aside, the back of her head hitting the wall.

Quilla cried out from the pain.

Vern didn’t pause. She leapt at the Volg as it stumbled towards the exit, jumping on its back and wrapping her arms around its neck. As it flailed about, she kept one arm round its neck and reached up with her other arm. It screamed in pain as she drove her fingers into its eye.

“What was that about taking eyes, motherfucker? This is for everything you did to me and Lacquaime when we were children.” She yanked, ripping the Volg’s eye out of its head.

With a scream, the Volg used both its arms, even the dislocated, broken one to reach back and grab Vern, yanking her off its back and throwing her to the ground. Then it stumbled out of the cave, and out of sight.

“That’s it, run!” Vern called. “Who’s shitting himself in terror now, asshole?” She stood up with a groan, rubbing her neck.

Jakka ran to the cage door and pointed. “That one has the keys.”

Limping slightly, Vern retrieved the keys, then opened the door.

Jakka yelled triumphantly and stepped out. “Thank you, Veronique. You have my eternal gratitude.”

Vern ignored him and walked through the door towards Quilla. She held out her hand, palm up. Ofstakim’s eye sat in it. “I’ll get you one of his horns next time.”

Quilla picked the eye up. It was almost as big as her hand and was covered in blood and viscera. There was a time when something like this would have made her sick to her stomach, but not now. Now, it was one of the most beautiful things she’d ever seen.

Simultaneously laughing and crying, she threw her arms around Vern’s neck and kissed her. Do you really love me?

This close, you can tell what I’m thinking, so you tell me.

She did. She really did. She loved her in every fibre of her being.

And they were both thinking that.

Far too soon, Vern broke the kiss. Her nose twisted. “You smell like shit though. Literally.”

Quilla brushed down the tatters of her clothes. “Yeah, they…” She coughed. Her throat was so dry.

“Annai’s got clean water for you,” Vern said. “You too, Jakka, though we weren’t actually expecting you. We thought you were dead.”

“They can’t kill me,” Jakka said. “I have knowledge they want.”

Vern strode over to him. “Oh? Care to let us in on the secret?”

He shook his head. “Not here.”

“No, we need to get moving, but later.”

“Maybe,” he said.

Quilla gathered up the horns. She held up the bloodiest and looked to Vern. You were so sexy killing those Volgs. I love when you drove the horn through that one’s eye. It was this horn, wasn’t it?

Vern shrugged. Might have been. I wasn’t paying attention. She slid up against Quilla. I’m liking this violent side of you, though.

Volgs bring out the worst in me. They’re animals.

Vern stepped back, a frown on her face. Hey. There’s me.

Quilla sighed. Right, sorry. We definitely need to have a long talk.

We will. Soon. I promise.

“Are you two finished staring at one another?” Jakka said. “It surely won’t be long before he’s back with reinforcements.”

Vern spun around. “Right. Let’s go. Follow me.”