Arthur could count every one of his hundred and thirty six bones, each one reminding him loudly that none of this came naturally. "Make it stop," he whined, pawing the side of his snout. "Make it stop, can't think. It hurts."

"I can't make it stop, Arthur. You're the only one that can change back."

Arthur. Arthur. Everyone was so keen to call him Arthur, how did they know? He had Kay's voice and the Shiker's abilities and memories, was he still actually Arthur? The person who would be able to tell him was dead and gone and oh-yes, that hurt too. That thing he couldn't count or point to or ever, ever fix again in this life.

"Don't understand." He dragged the side of his snout across the ground. "Don't understand. Tried everything. Nothing worked with me. Everything worked against me. Why. It's not my fault."

"Arthur, you want the pain to stop. You have to work with me. Try to remember-"

Anger flared up, and Arthur snapped, "No! Why should I have to work? Why should I have to do anything more for any of you? How many times did I try to work with them, Mystery?"

"Arthur, this isn't about-"

"I don't care! I'm done! Do you hear me? Done! Finished! I'm not doing one more-oh gods, no…" His voice trailed off as a small form approached. Flanked by Deadbeats, two on each side, Dulcie was making her way over to him.

It was the first time he had seen her curse. Delicate spring green vines had woven themselves in intricate chain links between her wrists. A similar set wove between her ankles, and a much thicker vine wound round her neck in the disturbing likeness of a noose.

The third to live within my cage.

Judging by the noose, she wouldn't live very long.

Arthur raked the ground with his forepaw and wailed. "Nothing, Mystery! All for nothing. All failure. I can't save even one of them!"

Dulcie paused where she was, gripping a nearby rock formation, her eyes wide and round. A couple of the Deadbeats tugged on her arms, trying to pull her back, but she shook them off, her eyes on Arthur. She took another step toward him, and he pushed himself back, giving a string of short, high-pitched whines.

"Don't! Don't come near me!"

You know what happens to children here.

"Dulcie, get away from me!"

Not enough seeds. She will be coming for the rest of the seeds, and we don't have enough.

"Nnnnnn! Nnnnn! Nnnn!" Arthur hit the side of the cave. Mystery hadn't moved, he was just staring as Dulcie drew closer. "I don't want to hurt you!"

All four Deadbeats were now pulling on Dulcie's arms, but she pushed against them, struggling forward with all her might. She burst free of them, running forward and wrapping her arms around Arthur's muzzle.

Oh. Gods.

The dam burst. Arthur wept into the tiny arms clinging to his face, undone by this child. The last living Pepper child who had, and continued to, forgive him for everything he'd done or been forced to do.

And this one would live in some kind of cage for the rest of her short, miserable life.

Not some kind of cage. "My Cage."

And his mind ripped him back through centuries, to a time when he knelt at the feet of another and tore allegiance away from his creator.

…..

"How long will it take?" Her foot is long and narrow, the toes tapered in length toward the middle. Perfect in symmetry, though remnants of earth cling to the heel and pad of each foot. I smell clay. Loam. Mineral rich muds. She has roamed far and wide in recent times.

"Of all gods, you must know that growing such things will take time. And for a harvest such as you seek? Many hundreds of years." I keep my voice soft. Contrite. "And that, of course, is with the proper ingredients provided me. Otherwise, it may take millennia."

The toes dig themselves absently into the dry dustbowl we meet in. Green shoots spring up between her toes. "Then you must take yourself to the human realm. You will find enough children to supply your needs there. Find your haven. I will find you a herd and send them through by month's end."

She says nothing of the Hoshi no Tama, and it is understood. I am also to bear the finding of these. For a moment, the scent and face of each pack member passes through me like a knife.

I harden my soul against it. I was never allowed to choose who I served. I will choose, and I will be free. Not only free, but growing in power with every curse planted.

"Before you begin with the great planting," she interrupts my thoughts, "I will need one quite a bit sooner. I have what you need here."

I look up to see at her side a trembling boy, gaunt and bruised, eyes dull with resignation. Clutched in his hands is a single shining horn.

And, I understood, my own soul for the incubation.

"Will I survive?" I ask.

"I cannot say. But if you do, none shall be able to command you again."

I look again to the starveling child, and I know my choice.

"What curse do you desire of me?"

"Let it grow thus: For failure, see your feathers stripped. Let all your children's fates be tipped. The early death of eldest son. The firstborn's mind to come undone. The second one to kill and rage. The third to live within my cage."

I shiver at the exacting artfulness of the curse. Even before it is conceived, it is a terrible thing of beauty. Except…

"You hesitate. Do you doubt me?"

"No, never," I assure her. "But I wish to understand the fullness of this curse, as it is to be incubated in my own soul. Tell me, what of the last line? It seems… lesser. The curse appears to build in punishment as it travels down the family, and yet confinement is so simplistic. You could take the last child yourself. Why should you need a curse for such a thing?"

Her laugh is softer than I expect, like a warm summer breeze. "To ensure its finality. That there is no escaping it, no hiding, no bargaining. And to ensure the survival of that child until such a time. Teles knows my Cage. Any loving mother would snap their child's neck first." The smile that crosses her face is absolutely radiant, vibrant with ecstasy. "Let her child know a taste of the hell my own daughter must face. And let Teles never escape that knowledge."

…..

There was no breath left in Arthur to wail and Dulcie's arms were already soaked. She clung tight, as if she could somehow hold him together. He never stood a chance at defeating the curses. It was as useless as fighting a siren's call. Once planted, a curse would unfold come hell or high water.

All the knowledge he needed, and he could not save her still. Perhaps living in ignorance until the last moment was preferable. Maybe he had just been making everything harder by seeking the answers. Maybe Teles understood it was hopeless and had shouldered the secret herself to let her children live in peace as long as they could.

Maybe he didn't blame her for her silence as much as he used to. He longed for the ignorance of three days ago. No price would be too high to rewind the clock, stop chasing after the Shiker, and just spend that time with Kay.

A car horn blared in the cavern. Too spent to jump, Arthur turned his eyes toward the lower tunnel opening. The Skulls' van idled there in the opening as Lance swung the driver's door open and climbed out. "Hey. Artie. Yer van's off, her insides don't sound right." A Deadbeat pulled up next to Lance, struggling with a hefty tool case. Lance reached inside and pulled out a car lug wrench, thwacking it across the opposite hand. "Gotta get off all'a tires and lift it, see what we got. Ya with me?" He hauled back an arm and sent the iron arcing through the air, end over end, toward Arthur.

Arthur automatically reached to catch it, and as he did, his foreleg began to shrink. The howl he thought he had no more air for exploded from him as his body erupted in fresh agony at a second transformation. Dulcie was ripped away from him.

Howls became screams, then whimpers. Some sort of heavy fur was draped over his body, and Mystery whispered at his ear, "Sleep. You're spent."

And it was so.