The heavy iron gates of the arena creaked open, releasing the participants into the sprawling forest that stretched out before them. The second the gates were unlocked, people scattered in all directions, unwilling to risk staying in a group that might attract the attention of the siren. Survival was the only objective, and it was clear that everyone was looking out for themselves. Hiding, fighting, or running away—any plan was fine, as long as the objective was met.

  Hadassah stood still, glancing at the thinning crowd. Quickly, the only ones left were her, Rahn, Vivian, and Zarek.

  “You don’t need to protect us,” Hadassah said flatly, addressing Zarek without turning to face him.

  Zarek’s gaze flickered over to her, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I’m not here to protect you. I’m here to survive, same as you,” he said.

  She glared at him. “And you plan to survive by sticking with us, I’m assuming? You—”

  Before Hadassah could continue, Vivian stepped forward, her mask still on but her voice cutting through the tension. “Let him stay,” she said calmly. “He’s harmless. I doubt he will interfere with our plans, right, Zarek?” Vivian turned to him. Zarek nodded, his hands tightening around the hilt of his sword.

  Hadassah half expected him to ask about their plan, but seeing he didn’t, she tilted her head. “Do you even know our plan? Or are you just going to force your way in?”

  “I know your plan.”

  “Bull—”

  “Neveah told me.”

  That silenced Hadassah, but her expression turned ugly. Neveah never stepped in to interrupt her in anything; why now? Why with Zarek?

  “I guess not interfering only applies to strangers and people like me,” Hadassah spat, her frustration spilling out.

  Zarek frowned, wanting to defend Neveah but stopping himself. He sighed. “Look. I plan to stay with you and help, whether you like it or not.”

  Hadassah took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of her nose, before turning to Vivian. “The plan is to kill the Siren, right? What about Verena and Valentino?”

  Vivian hummed in response. “They’re already headed towards the centre. They’re looking for the Siren as well, but they don’t know exactly where it is, so we can find it first. The trial won’t end until the Siren is dead, so we should try to keep it alive as long as possible.”

  Hadassah nodded, her mind running through the strategy. “Fine. Let’s go.”

  ˋ?-?-?ˊ

  Valentino and Verena slowed their pace, coming to a complete stop. Valentino glanced around confusedly before turning to his sister. “Why are we stopping?”

  Verena smirked, her lips curling sweetly. “We’re heading for the Siren; we’re going to lure it towards Hadassah and let it finish her off for us. After she’s dead, we’ll take the Siren down.”

  Valentino raised an eyebrow “won’t the crow beastman just kill it?”

  Verena shook her head. “This isn’t a monster that can die easily. I managed to get some information from Father; it regenerates. The only way to kill it is to break it’s shell core.”

  Her brother paused for a moment. How was it she was the only one who had been told such valuable information? Yet he bit his tongue and nodded. “Makes sense, but how are we supposed to find the Siren first?”

  Verena lifted her hand, revealing a ring on her finger. It was thin, barely a ring, only a simple metal band. “Father gave me this,” she said. “It’s enchanted to help us track the Siren. As long as we follow the direction of the glow, we’ll be able to find it before anyone else.”

  Valentino’s eyes flickered towards the ring, his gaze darkening. “And we won’t get caught in the Siren’s path?” he asked, a trace of unease creeping into his voice. “How are we going to avoid scrutiny under the dragons? The princess is watching this whole thing.”

  Verena dismissed him, rolling her eyes as if he were too slow for her liking. “They don’t give a shit about how we handle this,” she said, waving her hand. “The dragons only care about the expedition being over and done with. They want a spectacle, not a battle of honour. As long as the Siren dies, no one will care how it happens.”

  Valentino frowned, but he bit back any words he might have. “If you say so.” After all, she was the heir; he only needed to follow her lead.

  ˋ?-?-?ˊ

  Neveah had finally arrived, walking into the private booth where the princess and her brother sat watching. Lord Vortigern stood respectfully by the curtains, bowing his head as she entered.

  Drucilla turned her head, her expression barely shifting as she regarded Neveah. Despite their history as childhood friends, there was no warmth in her gaze, only mild annoyance. “I’m surprised you came to see me. Are you done running around playing mercenary with Kaladin?” she asked, her tone sharp.

  Neveah didn’t bother with pleasantries. “Drucilla, Zeus,” she acknowledged them both with a curt nod. “I’m here to support Zarek and Hadassah.”

  Drucilla’s frown deepened, her curiosity piqued. “Who is Hadassah?”

  “Kaladin’s new student,” Zeus answered before Neveah could. “She’s a brown rabbit—a Kesmes.”

  Drucilla’s interest flickered to life. “A Kesmes, huh? So, she’s good with artefacts? That’s what you should have led with. Much more interesting than this dull trial!” She picked up her goblet and took a sip. “We haven’t had a new artefact specialist in years. It’s becoming a dying art.” Her attention shifted to Lord Vortigern, her disdain palpable. “You were also a Kesmes weren’t you? You could’ve been more valuable to my mother if you hadn’t obsessed over this ridiculous tree. How disappointing”

  Lord Vortigern’s jaw tightened, but he kept his composure. “It is my failure, your Highness,” he said stiffly, suppressing the bitterness in his tone.

  Drucilla’s eyes moved away from him with an air of superiority. To her, no matter his status or accomplishments, a rabbit was still a rabbit and a harlot was still a harlot. “If you hadn’t been such a whore, you’d never have been allowed to remain as the Vortigern head. You are lucky my mother is magnanimous.” She smiled as if she enjoyed dragging his name through the muddy depths that were his past. “I look forward to your daughter’s ascension.”

  Lord Vortigern clenched his teeth but said nothing. Twenty years he had ruled this city, raised it from the ground, and established himself as a powerful leader. Yet, in Drucilla’s eyes, he was nothing more than a man who had slept his way into power, a ‘whore’ who occasionally shared a bed with the Dragon Queen.

  “You’re still a rabid dog, Drucilla. Do you never temper your words?” Neveah said, her voice dripping with disapproval, unimpressed by the princess’s crudeness.

  Drucilla only laughed, as though Neveah was amusing her with a joke. “Men should earn their positions through war, not through pillow talk. Hopping from one human to another, Neveah, you know as well as I do—he’s shameless. Was being Arcadia’s consort not enough? He even killed his own wife. A man like that… truly worthless.”

  There was no need for Drucilla to soften her disdain. In her mind, she wasn’t saying anything that wasn’t true.

  ˋ?-?-?ˊ

  A monster wandered aimlessly through the dense arena. It appeared as a small girl with long black hair covering its facial features and white, blue-tinged skin that seemed loose around its joints. Its pale figure was cloaked in a simple white gown stained with dirt, its bare feet dragging across the forest floor. It moved slowly, hitting rocks and tree trunks, but it followed a singular path, letting the trees knock its shoulders and scratch its thick skin.

  From a distance, it might have seemed harmless, like a lost child searching for its way home.

  It paused suddenly, its head jerking up as if it had caught a scent in the wind. Its movements were unnatural, too fast, and too sharp for it to be anything natural. Its body twitched, its head turning slowly towards a nearby tree. A rabbit beastman was hiding up there, holding his breath, hoping the creature hadn’t noticed him.

  But it had.

  With a sickening snap, the Siren’s jaw dislocated, hanging open, and from its back, dark tendrils began to sprout, writhing and twisting as they extended outward like serpents.

  The Siren’s tendrils lunged at the tree. The beastman tried to jump down and run, but he didn’t get far. The tendrils snatched him out of the air, wrapping around him tightly. He screamed, thrashing wildly as he was lifted off the ground, but it was no use. The tentacles tightened, and with one horrifying snap, his body was pulled into the Siren’s gaping mouth.

  Its jaw stretched impossibly wide as it devoured him whole, its body convulsing as it swallowed. The sound of cracking bones and tearing flesh filled the air as blood gushed from its mouth, staining its dress and fertilising the mossy earth. The tentacles writhed, slithering across the ground as it fed and eventually retracted back into its body. Its jaw readjusted as it resumed its slow, deliberate movement.

  Five eaten, forty-five remaining.

  From a hidden vantage point, Verena and Valentino watched the scene unfold. Valentino’s face drained of colour, his eyes wide with horror as he watched the beastman being devoured. Verena, on the other hand, wore an almost pleased expression, as if she were enjoying whatever was happening. In her mind, she imagined the monster tearing Hadassah apart; she could practically hear Hadassah screaming and begging for her help.

  “We’ll draw it out,” Verena whispered, her voice carrying an undertone of excitement.

  Valentino swallowed hard, barely able to tear his gaze away from the Siren. “How do you plan to do that?” he asked, his voice shaky. “That thing—it ate a beastman!”

  When fighting against ferals, at least they had a consciousness; they were not mindless monsters. But Sirens? They didn’t feel pain, they could regenerate, and they had abilities unknown to most—dangerous abilities. Toying with a Siren was asking for death.

  Verena turned to her brother, smiling coldly. She had known him for thirty years, but not once had she considered him useful—until this moment.

  Before Valentino could react, Verena kicked him hard, her boot landing squarely on his back. He stumbled out of their hiding spot and into the open.

  “Like this,” she said, her tone ice-cold.

  Valentino’s heart dropped into his stomach as he fell forward, crashing into the brush and landing in plain view of the Siren. He looked up, terror flooding his veins as the creature slowly turned its dislocated jaw in his direction, sniffing the air like a predator catching the scent of fresh prey.

  Panic overtook him, and without thinking, he scrambled to his feet and started running for his life.

  That was a mistake.

  The moment he began to run, the sound of his footsteps clued the monster in to his location. In turn, he could hear its steps accelerating as it chased after him.

  Valentino’s legs moved before his mind could process what was happening. He slid across the mossy floor, narrowly avoiding a tendril that snapped a tree in half. Fear gripped him as his bladder threatened to release, but he forced himself to his feet and kept running. His muscles burned as he sprinted on the uneven ground, arms swinging, head high, desperate to run faster. Roots and rocks threatened to trip him with every step. His heart pounded in his ears, making it difficult to hear anything else. But he didn’t need to hear—the Siren was right behind him.

  He risked a glance over his shoulder, his stomach twisting in terror. The tendrils had latched onto a tree trunk, and the monster catapulted itself forward. Its gaping mouth hung open, ready to consume him.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  “Left! Valentino, go left!” Verena’s voice came from seemingly nowhere.

  He barely had time to register her words before he veered sharply to the left, nearly losing his balance as he dodged between trees. The monster flew past him, its claws barely grazing his skin. Sweat dripped down his face, stinging his eyes, but he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t afford to stop. The creature was right behind him.

  “Faster!” Verena screaming again. Valentino’s chest tightened with rage. He wanted to strangle her, but he swallowed his hate in favour of survival.

  “Right! Now go right!”

  “Shut up!” he finally snapped, his voice bursting with fury. “Do you want me to die here?!” His body ached and his head spun as he barely managed to avoid a thick branch. His frustration boiled over. Why was she ordering him around while he was the one risking his life?

  “If you die, you die! So keep running and stop whining.”

  The words hit him like a blow. It wasn’t that he couldn’t believe her—he could. But hearing her say it with such indifference, in the face of his imminent death, stung worse than the Siren’s claws. Verena had never cared for anyone other than herself.

  So he ran. Faster. Harder. Pushing through the pain and exhaustion. His breaths were shallow, his vision began to blur, but the sound of the Siren’s slithering tendrils was too close, too terrifying to allow any hesitation.

  Suddenly, through the trees, he saw her.

  Hadassah.

  She stood there alone, her figure still. Her back was turned to him, and for a split second, relief surged through Valentino’s mind. She was easy prey.

  Without thinking twice, Valentino changed his course, sprinting towards Hadassah. He wasn’t sure what he would do once he reached her, but he didn’t care. He needed a shield, someone—anyone—to distract the creature.

  Hadassah’s head snapped towards him at the sound of his footsteps. Her eyes locked onto him in an instant, reading the panic on his face, the fear radiating off him like heat.

  Something was wrong.

  Valentino’s instincts screamed at him to stop, to turn back, to face the Siren instead. But he kept running. He couldn’t stop. Not now.

  Hadassah’s eyes seemed wrong. They were deep, incomprehensibly deep—empty, like a void sucking him in.

  And while he was being sucked in, he felt it.

  It felt strange.

  He didn’t understand why, but in that moment, he could see his own body.

  His body stood before him—upside down, headless. Slowly, it collapsed to the ground.

  Valentino’s head rolled across the floor, coming to a stop at Hadassah’s feet.

  In that moment, Valentino realised his fatal mistake. His eyes let go of his last tears as his vision closed on Rahn standing behind Hadassah, bloodied sword in hand.

  Hadassah’s foot came down to stop his head from rolling, and she called out in a voice as cold as ice. “Rahn.”

  The figure darted forward too fast to track, rushing towards the Siren.

  Rahn’s sword clashed against the Siren’s claws with a screech of metal, their strength equal, forcing both to jump back, giving each other space. It rushed at him again; it was fast, but Rahn was faster. Every strike was blocked, each slash parried, and every attack deflected.

  The Siren was relentless, but Rahn had the stamina, the strength, and the speed. He read the monster’s movements like a book, and it wasn’t long before the Siren realised that this would be a losing battle.

  “I will go find Verena,” Hadassah announced, turning to walk off. The Siren noticed her for a moment and tried to attack; its tentacles stretching towards her, but Rahn vanished and reappeared in front of it, blocking its path. His expression tensed, and he brushed his hair back from his face, letting out a sigh as if he could not believe the audacity of the creature. Adjusting the grip on his sword, he rolled his neck with a quiet crack and attacked once more.

  Hadassah didn’t bother turning back. She continued walking through the forest, her pace steady and unfaltering. Soon, Zarek jumped down from one of the trees, landing beside her.

  “Where did she go?” Hadassah asked without looking at him.

  “Northwest,” Zarek replied.

  “You should stay and help Rahn.”

  “I want to go with you.”

  Hadassah gave him a sidelong glance. “I don’t think you can stomach what I’m about to do.”

  Zarek reached out and grabbed her arm, stopping her from walking away. His grip was firm but not painful. “Look,” he said quietly, “you’re right. I’m not as smart as Neveah or Kaladin. It’s frustrating, I know.” She was quiet, waiting for him to continue. “Still, I want to know; I don’t want to be kept in the dark all the time. It’s not fair to expect me to make sound judgements and hide everything from me.”

  For a moment, she remained still, her arm in his grasp, studying his eyes. She wondered why they looked so drained.

  Finally, she nodded, though reluctantly. “Fine. See everything, and then I know I can hate you fully or feel guilty for my apathy.”

  ˋ?-?-?ˊ

  Verena found herself wandering through the dense undergrowth of the forest; she had left her brother to lure the Siren to Hadassah and had gone to look for Vivian. She thought she understood the layout of this place, but somehow she had gotten lost. The trees around her twisted in unfamiliar ways; paths she thought she had registered had disappeared, and her lefts were becoming rights.

  Suddenly, she heard footsteps behind her.

  Vivian emerged from the shadows, her mask still in place, her movements slow as if she were carelessly taking a walk.

  Verena’s eyes narrowed, her frown turning into a sneer. “The heavens must have blessed me to deliver you to my doorstep.”

  Vivian said nothing at first, but then she slowly asked, as if to clarify, “Are you going to kill me?”

  “Should I let you live?” Verena crossed her arms, shifting her weight to one leg. “I could, you know, if you ask nicely; I am quite kind.”

  Vivian touched the hilt of her sword, and Verena noticed, bursting into laughter. “You can’t seriously think you can beat me in a fight, right? Did you forget how I broke your arm three months ago?”

  How could Vivian forget?

  She felt every second of that agonising fight, and she hated every second of it.

  “I’m glad you are the woman you are,” Vivian suddenly said.

  Verena’s mouth twisted, confused by her words. “Really? It seems like you have changed since the last time I saw you. If this were the old days, you would have begged for your life. It seems I have been too busy with current affairs to attend to you, sister.” Verena and Vivian knew, how much of a mockery the word ‘sister’ was.

  “Do you know where we are right now?” Vivian asked as she looked around them, as if looking for someone.

  “Have you fully lost your mind?”

  Vivian smiled behind her mask. “Did you know, when I was ten years old, you pushed me off the second library balcony? Do you remember that day?”

  Verena rolled her eyes. “You can’t be serious. You want to talk about your childhood now? If you want to cry about it, find your mother. That bitch should be able to console you.”

  Vivian’s smile did not waver. When she was ten years old, Verena pushed her out of the library, and she fell to the ground at the bottom of the Vortigern tree.

  “As expected, you could kill someone and not really care. I really wish I grew up to be like you, Verena. I admire you greatly.” Vivian’s words were barely audible, and truly, Verena did not care to hear them. She unsheathed her sword. She didn’t even notice that the canopy in this area was thicker than usual; no one could see down into this part of the arena—not spectators, not investors, not their father. The only person who could see this place would be Neveah, if she cared to look.

  “Are you throwing a tantrum? I let you live; was that not enough? You should thank me.” Verena said.

  “Thank you?” Vivian asked. “I should be grateful that I didn’t die?” Her voice sounded strange, and Verena falsely assumed it was anger.

  “Aren’t you satisfied? You had a roof over your head, and you could live without anyone lynching you. There’s no reason to be so upset.” Verena’s smile grew sweeter as she talked, and she closed the distance between them.

  Vivian sighed and dropped her hand from the hilt of her sword. Verena once again made a false assumption, thinking Vivian was giving up and accepting her fate.

  “I suppose this is how things should be,” Vivian finally said. She slowly reached up, her fingers brushing the edges of the mask she wore. Verena paused, confused for a moment. Vivian’s movements were unhurried as she took off the mask, and Verena’s eyes widened.

  The mask fell away, revealing Vivian’s face beneath it.

  No, it wasn’t Vivian’s face.

  Verena was staring at her own face. And suddenly, Vivian’s hair colour changed to a beautiful white.

  Verena was staring at her body double.

  “How—” She started to stutter, her grip tightening on her sword.

  “Surprised?” Vivian’s voice was generous. “Do you know what is about to happen?”

  Verena didn’t wait for an explanation. Something told her that if she didn’t kill Vivian at that moment, her life would be over. So she moved. She raised her sword, trying to slash at her sister. She was so panicked she didn’t notice something fly at her and embed itself in her eye.

  A tragic, visceral scream echoed through the forest. Her hand hovered around her eye as if she were afraid to pull out the object. It was a beautiful jade—the same hairpin Hadassah had been wearing.

  Desperately, she grabbed the pin and painfully pulled it out of her eye. The tissue began to crawl around the hole like maggots and heal, her body reacting naturally. She had dropped her sword, trying to search for it in her confusion, but then she felt something strange.

  From behind her, a large hand grabbed her neck and lifted her up effortlessly, causing her to drop the hairpin.

  This wasn’t Hadassah. This hand was too large, too muscular.

  It was Zarek.

  He held Verena up by her neck, and as her eye finished healing, she came face to face with Hadassah. The sight of Hadassah’s cold, empty eyes etched fear into Verena’s soul, so much so that her bladder loosened.

  Hadassah looked down silently, seeing the urine drip from Verena’s armour. She found the smell deeply unpleasant.

  When prey is caught by their predator, they know instinctively they have met their end.

  “Hadassah…?” Verena croaked. “Please—”

  “Please what?” Hadassah asked, her voice void of emotion. Verena felt fear creep into every crevice of her mind. “I should spare you?”

  Verena didn’t know what to say. She started to shake as she saw Hadassah pick up the bloodied hairpin on the floor. She whimpered as the hairpin, covered in runes and emitting a faint aura of a shell core, was brought closer to her.

  “Ah, I found something for you to swallow; open up.”

  Hadassah reached out and pressed against Verena’s cheeks, forcing them open.

  Verena tried to struggle, her hands clawing at Hadassah’s wrists, but her movements were weak and frantic, her body too overwhelmed by the shock and terror of the moment. Her oxygen was restricted by Zarek’s hands. She could feel the cold metal against her tongue, the sharp edge of the hairpin scraping the inside of her mouth. She gagged, trying to twist away, but Hadassah’s grip was like iron, unyielding.

  “Hadassah…” Verena whimpered, her voice muffled, “please…”

  But Hadassah ignored her, her gaze like ice as she forced the hairpin deeper into Verena’s throat. Verena’s eyes bulged as she choked, her body convulsing in a futile attempt to spit it out. Tears streamed down her face as she gasped, her throat closing as the hairpin was pushed deeper, cutting into the delicate flesh as it slid down.

  Hadassah didn’t flinch.

  She watched with cold detachment as blood spilt from the rabbit’s open mouth onto her hands. It felt warm; the smell of iron was simply divine. The deep red dripped on Verena’s silver armour, and Hadassah truly felt like silver and blood were made to be.

  Verena’s struggles grew weaker by the second, her hands trembling as she tried to grasp at her throat. Her body had betrayed her in the worst way; the hairpin now lodged deep in her throat, severing her ability to speak. Her vocal cords had been ruined beyond repair, and as long as the pin remained, she would never swallow or breathe properly again. Yet despite the agony, a small flicker of hope sparked in her chest—she was not dead yet.

  Perhaps, if this was just a ploy of torture, if they were going to spare her life, she would kill them the moment she healed!

  But that hope was snuffed out as soon as she noticed something far more horrifying. She wasn’t regenerating. Her body, which should have been rapidly healing, remained weak.

  Hadassah watched her coldly, her lips parting in a calm, merciless explanation. “Are you afraid?” She asked with a strange melodic voice. “That hairpin, was made especially for you. It’s designed to stop your regeneration completely. You won’t heal from anything now.”

  Verena’s eyes widened as the truth settled in. Panic surged through her veins as she felt her once vibrant white hair start to darken. Slowly, painfully, her hair turned black, the same rich, dark hue that belonged to Vivian. In a matter of moments, her face began to shift as well; the features once belonging to Verena were replaced with Vivian’s. It was as if they had swapped identities entirely, a transformation that left Verena looking like her sister.

  Terrifying.

  Utterly terrifying.

  She had never expected Hadassah to make such an artefact, one that could make her take the face of another beastman.

  Verena’s mouth moved silently, trying to scream, trying to beg for mercy, but no sound came out. She thrashed weakly, her terror evident in the silent pleas that filled her eyes, but Hadassah remained unmoved.

  Zarek dropped her, and the girl tried her best to get the hairpin out of her throat, but no matter what she did, it wouldn’t come out. Tears flooded her eyes and dripped to the floor, but she could not make any legible sounds. She wanted to fight back, but the pain was overwhelming and the mental shock she had received was too strong.

  Hadassah squatted beside her, staring in apathy. “You’ll live like this for a little while; this is the most mercy I can spare you,” she said, her voice cold and sharp. Then, without warning, she grabbed Verena’s wrist. “Did you know, it is surprisingly easy to break human bones? I suppose it is the same for beastmen.” A sickening crack echoed through the forest as Verena’s body jerked, her face contorted in agony, but no scream came, only the wisp of a sound of her broken breath.

  Hadassah wasn’t finished. She took Verena’s other wrist slowly, holding her gaze the entire time so that the terror could settle, sinking deep into Verena’s heart. Verena’s breath came in shallow, ragged gasps as Hadassah maintained eye contact, her expression calm and unyielding. Then, with a merciless twist, she broke Verena’s second wrist, the sharp crack of bone mingling with the sounds of the forest around them.

  Verena’s face contorted, blood and saliva dribbling from her open mouth as the pain consumed her, tears streaming down her cheeks and staining the tree-engraved chest plate she wore. Her body trembled as Hadassah moved down to her ankles, twisting them until they, too, shattered with an agonising crunch.

  Hadassah looked into Verena’s eyes; she felt no remorse. “I hope you don’t die; I don’t know if anyone would buy your body for a shell,” she whispered.

  Verena could do nothing but shake, her body wracked with pain, unable to heal, unable to move. The final blow came when Hadassah stood up, her boots pressing against her hips. Verena wanted to scream, to beg, but she could do nothing. Hadassah pushed her boots against Verena’s pelvis with another sharp crack. Verena’s body crumpled even further, her life reduced to nothing but a twisted, broken shell.

  Vivian stood silently, her face cold, as she watched her sister’s identity wither away into her own. As Verena lay there, broken and defeated, the full weight of her fate sank in. Hadassah had not only taken her strength, but she had erased her completely.

  Hadassah walked up to Vivian, handing her a set of small hair clips. Vivian took them, putting them in her hair releasing a set of pristine white ears. Vivian let Hadassah walk away, and she turned to her sister and began to take off her armour.

  Verena watched helplessly as she was stripped of her clothes and Vivian took on her form. She watched herself hold her sword and swing it as if practising with its weight. It was only after settling in her new identity did Vivian turn back to her. Verena felt her heart grow with deep seething hate; she was merely waiting for her father to find out, then Vivian would be cut to pieces and fed to dogs. There would be nothing left but scraps.

  “Aren’t you curious, why I haven’t killed you?” Vivian asked her sister.

  Verena spat at Vivian, saliva and blood touching her face.

  Vivian did not seem bothered, merely wiping it away. “I suppose you think someone will notice and help you, right?” Vivian stood up, “When I fell from the library balcony, who helped me?”

  Verena’s face paled.

  On that day, nobody helped Vivian.

  For Verena to think anyone would give a shit about the current her—the half-caste, she was sorely mistaken.

  Hadassah headed back to finish the siren; she needed another shell core anyway. “Do you think I am a monster now?” She asked Zarek walking behind her. She had given up on him liking her in any capacity, and she in turn had given up on liking him.

  But to her surprise, he shook his head.

  “If you are a monster, then all beasts are monsters.” He did not need to see Hadassah’s face to feel her shock. But he was clear in his heart that this, was justice.

  Yet, Hadassah felt uncertain; she felt this was not justice, this was cruelty, but this was what she wanted.