Small feet pounding upon the metallic tunnel. The ship breezed soundlessly amongst the stars. Dark hair obscured Caeden’s view, as his small hand came into vision. He was making small vroom noises, waving a toy ship in his hand. Large hands caught Caeden around the middle and Caeden felt the helplessly joyful laughter escape him as his Dad pulled him up into the air. Caeden wrapped his fingers in the man’s thick bushy beard, laughing and looking up at him. Dad’s emerald eyes twinkled as he held his son, and beyond, Caeden could see his Uncle, watching quietly before slipping down a hall.

Pain, Caeden thought before he even felt it. He awoke alone, in a place where the air was damp. His vision was blurry, and the mud caked walls slowly came into view. There were body parts nailed all over  the walls – beast’s claws, a wide scaly wing, the whole arm of some animal that resembled a spider. To the far right, there was artificial light gleaming down on a pot with fresh greens growing from it. There was a chemistry set in the corner. As Caeden moved, he felt two things. The clank of iron around his wrists, neck, ankles, and the sting as he moved against a needle inserted in his arm. One of his hands was heavily bandaged, bleeding, and throbbing.

“Ah, ah,” a soft voice said above him. “You’ve had ten percent of your blood removed. I wouldn’t be moving,” A needle daftly slid in and out of Caeden’s neck, and that hard numb feeling came over him again. Rhys’s hand landed on Caeden’s sweaty one. “This could have all gone so much easier,” he said softly. “I’m sorry that you have woken. I wasn’t done. This would have been better for you unconscious.” With that, Caeden felt an intense grating pain against his horn. “I just need a few more samples,” he said, grunting with some effort as he closed the shear around Caeden’s horn. “Hopefully, you don’t have blood vessels here. Typically, horns are made of bones, fragments,” he grunted. “Tougher than that,” he muttered and moved away from Caeden’s vision to change tools. Something hard was placed against the horn and Rhys leaned over him. He caught the look in Caeden’s eye and grinned slightly, a bit of sweat rolling down his cheek. “I’d say I was sorry, but I’m not.” He applied pressure, rolling the tool painfully and repeatedly until an inch size chunk was cut off. He quickly swabbed the spot with something that burned furiously, using tweezers to gently pick up the sample. So he could be gentle. Just not with Caeden. “Shh, shh,” he said, one hand moving to cover Caeden’s mouth. “It’s almost over.”

Rhys took his sample to the table. There was the hot medical smell about the place, about him. He spent some time inspecting it before putting it to the side. He turned, looking at Caeden, just looking. The shadows cast strange angles across his face, and it was hard to match this man with the same jovial, confident commander who had greeted them. The stare went on too long to be comfortable, before he opened a drawer, withdraw something hidden by his hand, and approached.

Reaching above Caeden, Rhys did something outside Caeden’s vision. The chains rattled and the ones constraining his arms drew his hands above his head. His bandaged hand roared with pain as it was forcefully moved. There was something truly wrong with that hand, but Caeden couldn’t see beyond the bandages. The chains at his wrist and tail lengthened to allow Caeden to be pulled up. Rhys sat next to him, looking carefully into his eyes.

“You are the second I have spoken to,” Rhys breathed softly. “Your bird has very sharp fangs and claws, but is surprisingly malleable when you hold a knife to a child,” he shrugged slowly. “Every time I think Mowgli has run out of use, he surprises me. I wonder how long that will last. Do you think Jaan will eventually put his concern for the child aside? He is most….” Rhys searched for the word, “unagreeable. If I need a backup incentive, I should stop taking chunks of you,” Rhys grinned as though he expected Caeden to laugh. He brushed his hand through his hair, and Caeden noticed a black blemish along his hairline, sliding under his cheekbone. That hadn’t been there the day before. Now that he looked closer, he could see the infection on his hand as well. Rhys was infected.

Rhys seemed puzzled for a moment, then looked down at his hand. A grim line set. “I know how to deal with it,” he said simply. He twisted his fingers, bringing up a needle with swirling blackness in it. Rhys stared at it momentarily, then murmured, “Mowgli described the monster a few times. Truly, I was surprised. Viruses don’t act like that, personifying a host. I was sure it was  a child’s delusion until you mentioned it as well.” He paused, staring at the swirl for a while. “I wanted to see what the host would be like within your body,” he said. “Mowgli was growing more and more useless, and him being alive affects my political career. You would think he wouldn’t listen to me anymore, but fear and trauma have eaten that child into something I wouldn’t consider my kin.”

“Of course,” he muttered, “You ran away before I could get your blood, and you got rid of it. Luckily, I have plenty of Mowgli’s blood from before.” Rhys’s teeth gritted firmly. “I need the host’s blood to create the preventative or this spreads on me,” he gestured at himself. ”The potency is too diluted outside of the host to make an adequate treatment. I can’t use it from my family. Just, the originators. Of course, if he hadn’t crashed the damn ship, none of this would have been necessary, but alas.” He spun the syringe slightly. “Hope you missed your buddy,” he gripped Caeden’s hair, pulling it hard to the opposite side of where he had injected him last.

Rhys watched with fascination as the syringe injected the host’s blood into Caeden. At least, it wasn’t vomiting. “I thought about trying it on Jaan,” he said softly. “However, with his powers, I couldn’t risk ruining him. He is half black now,” he said, hiding an amused chuckle, “giving him a break to sort himself. I imagine he shouldn’t do it too much,” he withdrew the needle, allowing it to twist too much within Caeden’s skin to be entirely kind. “I need to keep the host well and alive until I can figure out this,” he leaned back and pulled out a glass casing. He showed it to Caeden.

It was a large portion of Jaan’s wing, pressed between two pieces of glass. Rhys was watching Caeden carefully. Blood smeared the outside where it had been pressed. It was much larger than what any Imperi would have cut. It cut across too many blood vessels. It was so large. It would have lasted the Imperi a long period but would have caused such damage to the host. Rhys knew nothing of the mental frailty of the Estraellans, of how few there were, and how likely they were to die in captivity. Brutal cuts like this were one of the reasons why.

“His power is simply unfair, but it is slow. Looking at him, I could see the damage to his wings. They had been cut, and they don’t heal like the rest of him.” He tilted his head staring. “Why do they cut his wings? How is this diluted?” He looks at the wing, tilting it. The light reflected the vivid purple and pink colors that reminded Caeden of Jaan’s harsh gaze. “His problem is that he has to want to heal with his hands. If I want him to do that, I have to keep you or Mowgli, and I am tired of keeping Mowgli, and you may be dangerous if I am not careful. So, tell me,” He held the pressed wing up, “How are you using this? This could benefit you. If I can use this, I don’t need the host. Perhaps, one day, you can go on your way and leave me him. It’s better than being here, being whatever this monster is to you. Are you his toy? A pet? I don’t understand. I hate not understanding.”

The commander’s face fell, apparently disappointed in doing something incorrectly. He thought for a moment, then grimly stood. “Well, if you leave me to stumble about seeking knowledge of him that you already know, then perhaps mistakes like this will happen. Perhaps your boy will be hurt, dead, and there is no coming back from being dead.” He returns to the table, placing the glass piece down and running his fingers along with it. “He isn’t far from you,” he said slowly. “It looked like your magic was explosive. It brought down our ceiling. If you were to do something like that here, you may end up injuring him in an attempt to escape. I will know if you attempt something.” He glanced back, “You agreed not to lie to me anymore. I told you that would bring you an award. It will happen today, but for now, rest. This is just the beginning.”

With that, Rhys swept from the room. A heavy door closed and the sound of locks turning was disheartening. The lights were turned off and the only light that remained in the room were the grow lights for the plant in the corner and the slow burn of fire at the chemistry set. The room was cold.

~~

In the dark, it was difficult to gauge how much time had passed. The biggest indicator of time passing was how cold the room became. Eventually, the heavy locks unlatched and a figure came in. It was too small for Rhys, but with it came the wondrous smell of food. San walked into the room, bearing a candle. The ember flares flitted attractively on his face. He went about the perimeter of the room, lighting small candles. It was strange how they had grown lights, but needed firelight to illuminate everything else. It must have been a scarce resource that they had salvaged from their ship.

San approached Caeden, and his gentle face broke into a pained expression at the sight of him. “Great Gods above,” he whispered, pulling the chair over to sit next to Caeden and moving to touch his arm. “Ho…Why? I’ve never seen him do this,” his hands traveled over the blood dry horn, lingering on the bandage. It was his first soft touch in a while.

It was difficult to tell in the flickering lights if there was moving blackness in the room. Caedon thought he may see swirling shadows, but then a candle flickered and chased them away. Or… perhaps it was there… or there… or there. It would be maddening to think and search too far in the dark for the monster.

“Bastard,” San muttered under his breath. “Give me your hand,” he said gently. He held his out, “I was our medic,” he continued. “My hands weren’t always this rough. That’s post-crash life. Can I.. can I have your hand? I just want to dress it properly, unlike whatever he did, and make sure you don’t get an infection until we can get Jaan in here.  I was just discussing it with Rhys. He isn’t happy about it, but I think he heard me. He was just taking some precautions.”

San shrugged languidly. Anger glinted across his eyes as he took the hand, “Sloppy,” he muttered as he began to gingerly unwrap it. His hands were skilled. It seemed he hadn’t been lying about his experience. “I already knew you two were outsiders,” he said, his voice oddly sad. Occasionally, his eyes flitted up to look worriedly at Caeden, then down as he carefully maneuvered the gauze. “We all saw how, in the hall, you two could do things none of us could.” He swallowed. “How… How you killed Zia. She was a good woman, strong, hunted down beasts for us. Cabor is inheriting her mount. We buried her today,” he sniffed slightly. “We never get to bury our dead. The stone is too hard to move. It was hard,” he sighed, and Caeden realized that his eyes may have held that extra sadness, extra redness for more than one reason.

“Anyways, Rhys didn’t say much. Just that you two were of value and that you aren’t allowed to die. I can guess at what you can do,” he looked up and seemed to hesitate, as though weighing how much he should say. “The other one, Jaan, took the infection out of Rhys’s guard today, five strong men,” he whispered. “Their families are so happy.”

He was on the last layer of the bandages, “So, I don’t know why you’re here, or what you can do, but..” he licked his lips, “I know some people who are saying that your arrival to us is a blessing. An answer to our prayers.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re here.” He paused, then shrugged, “I was glad you were here before all this, too.”  San looked at him, giving a small smile. San didn’t seem much different than the two had laid so close the previous night, hands exploring. The boy’s smile fell as he got to the lower levels of the bandages; a troubled expression crossed his face. “Do… do you know what he did?” San asked carefully. His hands had stopped unraveling the fabric.