they're eating a big breakfast again this morning.

it's kind of late, but there's biscuits and gravy and jelly and bacon and pancakes and johnny even cut him up some oranges, so danny is kind of excited. everyone is all dressed 'cause mama said that she wasn't going to have everyone running around like hobos all day. and she looks a little grumpy, but that's okay.

it's okay to be grumpy sometimes.

mama says that papa forgot his lunch. silly papa – he forgets his lunch lots, 'cause danny sometimes sees it when he helps mama or tay or emmy pull his juice out of the fridge. silly, silly papa. danny doesn't like being hungry 'cause it bad hungry so hungry so cold he just wants something to eat, mommy, please? it makes him and his tummy grumpy. and papa's grumpy with everyone so danny knows that its just gotta be 'cause he forgets his lunch sometimes.

but mama rolls her eyes when she sees papa forgot his lunch and looks over at emmy. "Your dad forgot his lunch. Again."

emmy giggles and takes another bite of eggs. "He'd forget his ass if it wasn't attached to him. I can't believe it took you this long to figure it out, Pen, jeez. You're losing your touch, old lady."

mama's eyes get all sharp and flash red, and danny can't help but laugh because it makes johnny and emmy choke at the same time.

"Care to repeat that?"

"Nope. Nuh-uh. Nada. Message received. Sorry, Pen."

beside him, tay laughs real loud, too. he looks over and grins at danny. "They're really brave, aren't they, Danny?"

danny nods 'cause uh-huh! they think mama's scary or somethin!

fingers start tickling his ribs, and danny squeals when mama blows a raspberry on his neck. "Oh Mama isn't scary is she? I'll show you scary!"

she tickles him until his belly hurts and he can't catch his breath, but makes it better by kissing his cheek and nose and forehead. she puts another piece of toast (with jelly! his favorite!) on his plate, then kisses tay on the top of the head too. he didn't get tickled, but that's okay. tay doesn't like getting tickled all that much so mama tries not to.

johnny says something that danny doesn't quite hear, but it makes kitty cat hit him on the back of the head. danny frowns and says hitting isn't nice kitty! we shouldn't hit!

"That's right, baby!" mama praises – it's in her soft voice that makes him feel all fuzzy and happy. "They should know better than to hit, shouldn't they?"

danny nods.

hitting is bad – it hurts and he doesn't like hurt, wants everyone to get along and be nice. that doesn't always happen. emmy and kitty and johnny like to argue lots. and sometimes they forget not to hit. but that's okay – they always say sorry. and danny thinks they mean it.

that's enough for him.

mama sighs, and kisses his head again, they tay's.

"I want to take Tex his lunch before he ends up murking himself or all his guards. Ember, do you think you can handle watching Tay and Danny for me this afternoon?"

danny looks up with a big mouthful of pancakes. emmy nods and smiles at him. she even winks!

"Yeah, no probs! Baby Pop's a doll, and I've got practice with the little snot over there. We'll be fine for a while."

johnny gets all frowny. "Dude, why is Ember the one in charge? I'm literally the oldest one here besides you!"

mama rolls her eyes, and danny tries not to giggle when she walks to the door to put on her shoes. "Because unlike you, Ember actually has something resembling a brain and no bad luck."

she looks back at them and puts her hands on her hips, and danny feels tay straighten up next to him. "Now, you boys behave, okay? No running off, no hiding for hours, and no pranks Taylor Walker, or so help you God when I get back. Understood?"

tay gives mama a big salute, and danny does too 'cause that's what you do when the boss lady in the movies says orders.

"Ma'am, yes ma'am!"

mama rolls her eyes again, but he can tell she isn't upset. "And as for you three. . . if I come back and a hair on either of their heads is hurt. . ."

she trails off, but her eyes are scary again, and danny feels bad because kitty and johnny and even em go all pale.

kitty talks first though. "We got it, Mama Bear. They'll be fine. Now go take Walker his lunch before someone's unalived for a second time."

and then mama's gone. danny feels kind of sad in his tummy, even though he knows he's gonna have a fun time with tay and his family. he just misses mama, that's all. tay says that's okay, 'cause he's still the baby even though he's a big boy now, and everyone misses their mama sometimes. and he isn't used to mama being gone. they're buddies! he loves bein' with his mama, even if she's sometimes weird or scary.

but most grown ups are like that, honestly.

danny runs into the living room with tay to play with their cars for a bit. emmy says they "get under feet" when they try to clean up, so he wants to be a good boy and stay out of the way like mama said. they play for a long time – tay makes up a story about a car that talks and flies like a super hero – before emmy comes back with a big sneaky grin.

johnny looks scared – that's how come danny knows today's gonna be super fun.

"Hey, kiddos, what do you say we go visit Desiree for a bit?" she says, and danny is confused when tay gets excited.

"Ah really!? Awesome! She told me I could have an extra birthday wish this year!" tay hollers, and danny flinches.

it's too loud. he still doesn't like too loud, even though mama and papa say he's getting lots better. it takes little steps, that's all. . .

"Sorry, Danny. I forgot you don't like it when I yell," tay apologizes, and danny just smiles and says issok.

the grin comes back to Tay's face, and he says, "But Desiree's super cool! She's like a genie – she can grant any wish she hears! And she gives the kids a free wish on their birthday and Christmas." he gets a surprised look on his face and smiles up at emmy. "Is that why we're going to see her? So she can give Danny his birthday wish since we missed it?"

emmy grins great big and nods. "Yep! What'dya say, Baby Pop. You wanna make a new friend?"

danny bites his lip a little before he remembers that mama doesn't like it when he does that.

he wants to make new friends. he does. he just doesn't know if they wanna make friends with him. mama and papa and everyone else say he's a good boy, a very good boy, and that the bad things never should have happened to him. but he's been a bad boy in his head for a long time. he doesn't know how to not think that he's a bad boy.

a birthday wish from an actual genie lady sounds so cool, though!

he's a bit nervous, 'cause he doesn't know if this desiree lady is gonna be nice. but tay seems excited, and he knows that emmy will keep him safe. so he wants to go!

i wanna go! he says, and gets a swoopy feeling when emmy sweeps him up for a big hug.

he can't stop giggling when she kisses all over his cheeks. her hugs feel like warm blankies straight from the dryer, and he loves them. maybe she'll fly him?

emmy keeps him warm the best.

"You're gonna give me cavities one day, Danny baby!" she says, and he blushes hard. "Now, let's go! We got a genie to meet!"

they fly in a big group. tay rides with johnny and kitty on his bike, and emmy carries him piggyback, which makes him laugh because it feels just like flying! he's like superman! danny isn't super good at flying yet. but he wants to be just like emmy one day – super duper fast and bright and amazing!

they go through all different places, that have lots of colors and doors and shapes. he's never been this far from home, not since he started being a good boy and living there. it makes him a little nervous, butterflies jumping in his tummy. but it's so pretty out here too! and emmy says that there's nothing to be scared of 'cause she'll protect him always. and tay's got a canon arm, and johnny has his super cool bike. and they'll protect him too – they promised.

so danny tries not to be nervous.

instead he gets excited.

danny is so so excited.

he hasn't been this excited in forever, which is a super long time.

emmy stops at a door that looks just like something out of his Aladdin cartoon and smiles at him over his shoulder. danny grips her tight and looks up at it.

"You ready, kiddo?" she asks, and her fingers squeeze his legs so gentle.

danny takes a deep breath. the butterflies stop making his tummy flip. he smiles. yep! i wanna make a wish!

emmy giggles and knocks on the door.

a voice calls from inside, deeper but pretty. "If that is Ember, you may enter!"

the door opens, and emmy goes through.

danny gasps. it's so pretty! the walls are colored in blues and golds, and there's silky curtains and pillows everywhere! it's like the biggest, most awesome blanket fort! there are big rock thingys that go all the way up until he can't see them anymore, and stars sparkle up there too, like the sky is the ceiling! he can't stop looking, and he feels like his head is gonna fall off if he keeps turning it so fast.

someone laughs in front of them, a new voice, and he snaps around to look.

"Well, this must be the newest little addition."

the lady that talked is very pretty. she's got long black hair, so long it nearly touches the ground. her skin is green like mr. technus's skin is, but her eyes are pretty and red. she's got a nice smile. danny frowns and tilts his head. she's wearing a shirt that doesn't cover her tummy – isn't she cold? and she doesn't have toes! she has a long, pretty blue tail instead!

she looks at him and smiles, and danny feels a bit shy, so he buries his face in emmy's shoulder.

"This is Danny," johnny says, and he's laughing. "Little dude's a bit shy, though."

the lady laughs. it's a pretty sort of laugh, he thinks. "I believe he's earned the right to be a bit shy. I'm a complete stranger, after all. And from what Ember told me, he's had a rough go of it."

danny peeks out from emmy's shoulder. the lady – desiree, it's a pretty name – smiles at him, and it reminds him of mama. he smiles back, still shy, but manages to wave.

ms. desiree waves back. "Hello there, little one! I am Desiree."

i'm danny! he squeaks, and her eyes smile like her mouth does, so he doesn't feel quite so nervous.

"It is wonderful to meet you, Danny. Have your brothers and sisters told you what my powers are? What I can do?"

danny nods and looks at tay, who's bouncing on his toes. uh-huh! tay said, uh, said you give wishes!

ms. desiree hums. "That's right, little one. I am a wish-granting ghost. Your sister told me that your birthday was not long ago, correct?" danny nods, and she smiles again. "Then I would like to grant you a wish as your gift. Any wish you have, I will grant. Does that sound like something you would like?"

danny thinks.

because danny is four years old, and the world is big and scary and it makes him nervous a lot. he was a very bad boy and his mommy told him so for a long time. over and over again and again until he came here. and mama and papa have told him he isn't a bad boy, that he deserves nice things like food and hugs and kisses and a warm bed.

his powers scare him because they make his tummy fill with cold until his fingers are blue and he can't feel his toes. and they scared mama and papa 'cause they made him sick. but then he got to meet mr. technus! who is fun and weird and talks in a funny way, but his hands are gentle and he gave him a magic box to keep his powers from makin' him sick again!

so. . .

maybe ms. desiree is gonna be his friend too? like mr. technus? she is pretty and lives in an amazing fort with pillows and blankies, and her eyes are very nice like her smile. emmy says he can trust her. tay says he can trust her.

danny is four-years-old and he's nervous but he's tired of being scared.

so he takes a deep breath.

and makes a wish.

~*O*~

"Boss, you got a – "

Bullet hadn't finished the sentence before Penelope bulldozed past him, lunchbox and water bottle clenched firmly in hand.

"Tex, I swear to God, you'd leave your ass behind if it wasn't attached to you," she griped. "This is the third time this week you've forgotten your lunch! Are you trying to get yourself knocked off via food poisoning? Because the road to hell is paved with Lunch Lady's food."

Walker, to his credit, blinked up at her for all of two seconds before putting his pen down and reclining in his desk chair with a heavy sigh. "Watch yer mouth, Pen. And, for the record, I didn't forget today. I wasn' gonna take a lunch 'cause I gotta oversee PT drills all afternoon. Eatin' 'fore I exercise makes me sick t'my stomach."

Penelope narrowed her eyes at him and perched herself on the corner of his desk. The lunchbox makes a decisive thump! when she drops it. For a man so principled, he was pretty good at spewing bullshit. She had watched him make his lunch last night – portioned grilled chicken and broccoli with rice – and knew he had intended to take it. . . he just didn't want to look like a dumbass in front of One-Eyed Tweedle Dum. Who was looking like someone had just shown him ghosts were real all over again.

"Well, you're shit out of luck," she crooned, a sly grin spreading over her face. "Because I've escaped the madhouse, I have your food, and you're going to eat it if I have to shove it down your Tex-hole. Capiche?"

Behind her, Bullet tried to disguise the fact he just snorted by coughing. Badly. He was about as bad at it as Walker himself was. Penelope glared at him over her shoulder.

"Something funny, fish lips?" she growled.

A big hand shook her calf gently, thumb stroking over her shin. "Simmer down, sugar. He was just leavin'. Ain'tcha, Bullet?"

The last sentence was damn-near growled, Walker's eyes narrowed beneath the brim of that stupid hat. Penelope leaned back on her hands and glared over her shoulder again, allowing her eyes to flash crimson. There was an incredible feeling of satisfaction when the color drained from Bullet's pale blue face, settling warm in the pit of her stomach. She knew for a fact that the grin forming on her face was a mean one. And that didn't

"Sure thing, boss!" Bullet swallowed thickly. "I'll just. . . I'll be down gettin' ready for the PT drills. Gotta keep the rookies in line, ya know?"

And with that, he shot out the door, shutting it behind him with a definitive click! Penelope fought down the urge to wiggle happily in place. She didn't fight her urge to laugh, though; it felt too fucking good. Walker looked up at her with something close to fond exasperation. She could taste the emotion on her tongue, but still couldn't quite taste it. Something like honey with a bit of a peppery kick behind it. Spicy honey mustard, maybe?

"Pen, hon, I love ya ta death but could'ja not terrorize my staff?" he groaned. "They're hard enough to train without ya givin' 'em an aneurism every five seconds."

She shrugged, still grinning. "It's not my fault they're all spineless bitches. You should hire some guys with some grit if you want them to stand their ground. . . or a few more idiots. Though, you've got plenty of those, last I checked."

The expression on his face hardened. "Watch yer mouth. I give ya some wiggle-room back at the lair, but this is my prison, sugar. The rules 're firmer here."

Penelope hummed low in her throat and plucked the hat from his head, idly toying with the old brim before smoothing out the dark hair on his bone-white head. "Fine, Jeremiah, I'll be boring if that's what you want. Now eat. I didn't weasel an entire afternoon of babysitting out of Ember just to sit here watching you tie yourself in knots over paperwork."

There was a tremendous sense of satisfaction she got out of the content seeping, slow and quiet, into the tense lines of Walker's shoulders and face. Penelope kept running her nails over his scalp, soothing through his thick hair and watched him start to unpack his lunch. Quietly, she reheated it with a quick burst of plasma to the bottom of the container. Walker grunted out a quick thanks before pulling a fork out of some obscure drawer or other and digging in.

"Why'd ya come all the way out here t' gimme my lunch?" he grumbled between mouthfuls. "It ain't a quick flight."

Penelope hummed low in her throat. "I was assaulted by three teenagers, a ten-year-old who barely has a grasp of volume control, and a spoiled five-year-old at eight o'clock in the morning. Then I had to wrangle breakfast for all of them since you had to get in here so early. And you forgot lunch. I needed a break, and this seemed like the answer."

She loved her Danny. She did. And even though she'd never admit it out loud, she adored Taylor. He was a pain in the ass, but he could also be cute as hell. And the relationship between the boys was sweet and precious and so healthy. Taylor had brought Danny out of his shell and helped him blossom into the sweet, bright little boy that he is. And Danny helped bring Taylor's energy level down, made him less reckless, less intense.

But dear God they were a lot sometimes.

Not to mention being cooped up in that house with children for the past seven or so months was starting to drive her batshit. She'd needed to get away for a bit. Even if that meant having to fly to a prison of all places.

Walker chuckled. "I getcha, sugar. Y'already eat?"

Penelope nodded. "Yeah – I ate a pretty heavy breakfast. Kiddos decided they needed a 'big breakfast' since you left early."

Walker hummed around another mouthful. "I take it Johnny and Em decided t' go hog wild?"

"Do they ever not?" Penelope snorted. "I swear, it's a miracle those two aren't perfect spheres."

She tried to keep from blushing when he barked a quick laugh up at her. The grin that carved Walker's face made him look lighter, freer, all dimples and mischief. It did things to her. And, truth be told, it was so nice to see him relax for once.

"Y'ain't lyin'," he admitted, taking another big mouthful of chicken and rice.

He hummed happily as he chewed, shoulders sagging in relief. Penelope couldn't help but smile at that and scratched a bit at his scalp. Walker's eyes fluttered as he subconsciously leaned into the touch, and she swore that if he'd been able, he would've purred. Regardless, she let him eat in relative peace. Instead, they talked about anything but Vlad or nightmares or her seriously shitty moral compass. If they needed to try incorporating more diverse foods into Danny's diet – well, as diverse as they could get with a five-year-old – and whether they needed to convince Ember to stop playing Rob Zombie songs where the boys could hear. If they wanted to try and change around the boys' room a bit to be a bit cozier, a bit warmer. Personally, Penelope wanted to see if they could finagle the lair into making them a laundry chute because she was tired of dirty clothes up and down the stairs.

"Yer lazy as a hound-dog, you know that?" Walker barked, poking her gently in the ribs with one meaty finger. "Stairs ain't gonna hurt ya!"

Penelope jerked at the contact and scowled. "They might! I'm allergic to manual labor – you know that! Besides, think of it as a way to get the boys more engaged in keeping their room clean. A laundry chute's a hell of a lot more fun than just putting clothes in the hamper, Tex."

"Y'know, you got this uncanny ability to both be right and irritate me with it," Walker deadpanned, though his tone was still gentle.

A smug grin settled on her face, and Penelope perched herself happily on his lap without thinking, plucking his hat from the desk before settling on her crown. "Why, thank you! Being a smug ass is one of my greatest skills!"

She had noticed that her emotional palate was expanding the longer she stayed with Walker. Misery wasn't the only thing she could taste. The burst of amusement and pride that emanated from the warden settled on her tongue like cold, crisp beer, something smoky just beneath. And even though she wasn't much of a beer drinker, she had to admit it fit him perfectly. She couldn't help but grin when he barked out a laugh, her fingers toying with the fine baby hairs at his nape.

"What'm I supposed t'do with you, Pen?" he chuckled.

"Listen to me because I'm right?" she retorted.

Another chuckle and Walker leaned into the contact. She was way too comfortable with doing this. With their closeness.

But Penelope didn't want to analyze herself right now. Instead, she wanted to watch her cowboy eat his lunch like a good idiot and pretend this relationship wasn't special. Pretend that she wasn't only a few hundred feet away from the one person she feared more than anything but somehow didn't feel threatened at all.

How could she have been threatened? Jeremiah was here with her.

she knows he's special, that this isn't a typical friendship dynamic, but just this once she wants to keep herself from overthinking and just enjoy something, enjoy little moments like this one that are nothing but sweet and warm and bright and safe, rare though they may be, and try not to fucking ruin it.

Jeremiah opened his mouth to say something.

Penelope never got to hear it. Instead, the door flew open and collided against the outer wall with a bang.

She was pressed to Walker's chest in an instant, a low growl rumbling beneath her ear. Penelope squawked with indignation, face burning, especially when she figured out it was just a goddamn guard – she didn't know his name, the fuckers all looked the same – that'd burst in without warning. Even after he figured out it was just one of his men, the grip pressing her to Walker's chest didn't let up. It seemed to tighten.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the panicked, horror-stricken expression on the guard's face. The manila folder clutched in his hand was somewhat rumpled. Her stomach dropped when she saw that it was stained green. Ectoplasm. . .

"You'd better have a good reason for bustin' in my door." Walker practically snarled the words, each syllable clipped.

Penelope could taste the fear. The revulsion. The horror. It was. . . unappetizing? Charred and bitter at the edges, like burnt meat dipped in vinegar. She didn't quite know how to dissect that; however, she couldn't take her eyes from the manila folder. Two words were printed in neat, succinct font on the tab. Horrible, terrible words.

Ghost Child.

Nausea clawed at her throat.

"Walker," she choked, "look at the folder."

It was clear the moment he realized what was happening. Walker's muscles froze, locked in place about her, and Penelope was sure he was about to bolt. Except he didn't. Instead, he growled out a question that sent gooseflesh up her spine.

"Where did you get this, Baker?"

The guard swallowed, still drained of color and horrified. "Plasmius. . . he, uh. . . he dropped this off with one of the newbies last night. We didn't want to give it to you until we'd figured out what it all was, but. . . Boss, you gotta see this."

With that, he threw the folder down in front of them, the pages landing with an ominous smack! Penelope flinched and tried to ignore the warm feeling in the pit of her stomach when Walker stroked a thumb over her shoulder.

"Why the hell didn't y'all tell me Plasmius had been in my prison?!" Walker snarled.

The guard – Baker, she thought was his name – flinched. Penelope would've felt sorry for the poor bastard if she had the energy to be anything other than sickened. It took a lot to get Tex to swear. But once he did, it meant he was fucking pissed.

"It was the overnight boys, boss! We had no idea he'd showed up until A shift came in this morning!" the guard tried to cover. "He didn't really. . . break anything, either. Just showed up, dropped the folder, and fuuuu. . . flew off. They thought it was weird but didn't want to call you in the middle of the night for something so small."

Sweat coated the guard's electric-green skin, and he licked his lips nervously. She could taste his disgust, his fear. "Boss, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but this stuff? It ain't little. It's. . . I don't even know the words for it. You just have to see for yourself."

His tone made the baby hairs at her nape stand on end, and Penelope pushed herself off Walker. Without even looking at the warden, she pointed to the door, baring her sharp eye-teeth at the shaking guard in a sneer.

"Do the smart thing and fuck off before one of us decides to kill the messenger," she snarled, allowing her eyes to flash crimson.

Without hesitation, the guard high-tailed it, the door shutting with a decisive thud! in his wake. Walker growled just behind her.

"What've I told ya 'bout swearin' in my prison?!"

Penelope didn't answer, eyes locked on the ectoplasm-stained folder. Her fingers were shaking. Everything about this was just. . . wrong. The emotions coming from the guard, the fact Plasmius dropped it and fled without being a dick. Everything. It made her queasy.

She didn't want to open it.

She needed to open it.

But she didn't want to.

Pandora's Box – once opened, it can never be shut. And she knew something about this was wrong.

Somewhere, Walker was talking. A big hand landed on her shoulder. Firm but safe. Penelope knew she was safe with him. . . and if that wasn't a fucked-up thought. Her eyes stayed locked on the folder's label.

Ghost Child. . .

Her hands moved of their own accord, and Penelope opened the damn folder. What greeted her was. . . she didn't have words.

Nauseating. Despicable. Deplorable. Unimaginable. Criminal.

Psychotic.

Pictures of a boy – her boy – strapped to a metal surgical table. Thin and frightened and scared. She flipped through them with a sort of objectivity that made Penelope realize she was dissociating. Huh – she hadn't done that in a while. Still, it felt like she was under water, floating in space between real and unreal as she looked at photo after photo.

Danny, screaming while a measure was held against an exposed collarbone. A little body splayed and opened and eviscerated. An emaciated child with white hair and dead dead eyes and trackmarks on his stick-like arms. An eyeball, floating in liquid with various nerves and vessels meticulously labeled.

Someone gagged behind her.

Penelope kept going.

The notes were meticulous and precise. Madeleine Fenton would have been a hell of a scientist if she weren't an absolute monster. Timelines, exact measurements, precise calculations. Full doses of the drugs used to keep Danny under and liquid nutrients used to keep him "alive" – how she managed to get hold of them was beyond Penelope.

Dilaudid, propofol, ketamine, rocuronium. . .

Her throat seized as she realized that the rocuronium was used without a sedative. Danny had been paralyzed and fully aware.

Her baby had been paralyzed and fully aware of what was happening. . .

Page after page, theory after posited theory, conclusions, frustration leaking from each word until it all finally culminated in the words: "Subject was noted to be deceased at 10:30 a.m. Cause of death determined to be multiple organ failure brought on by malnutrition."

Penelope shook. Head to foot. Involuntary. She couldn't think or breathe or process anything other than a deep, overwhelming, all-consuming rage.

How dare they. . .

How FUCKING dare they!

The images circled through her head on an endless loop. Danny frightened. Danny crying. Danny bleeding and torn and broken and scared. A little boy flayed open upon an operating table. A tiny ribcage riddled with bruises and jutting through skin. Track-marks on sticklike arms. Hollow, empty eye sockets and tiny green eyes floating in jars.

A baby treated as a subject.

A child fucking tortured to death by his own mother.

No. Not a mother.

A mother would never do that to their child. Penelope knew she was a monster. Knew she had done some fucked, unforgiveable things. But she would never do anything like this.

All Penelope could hear was a roaring, rushing in her ears. The sound of blood pumping. She could taste iron.

Blood.

She was gonna have that cunt's blood. One way or another. . . she was going to tear her heart from her chest and make her watch as it beat outside its bone cage.

But not before she was broken, utterly and completely. Mind, body, soul – Penelope was going to tear Madeleine Fenton asunder.

Fingers shaking, heart breaking, bubbles popping in her ears, Penelope tilted her head back. . .

And she screamed.

Calder is patient.

One does not survive long as he has without learning such a skill. The ability to watch, to wait and listen for one's opportune moment is invaluable. It must be honed like a fine blade, until its edge is so sharp prey does not realize it has been cut until its lifeblood is spilled upon the ground in tribute to the gods.

Calder is patient, and he is cunning, and he is a warrior.

First, foremost, always.

He has been a knight from the moment his king arose from the depths, roaring like a lion and beating upon those lesser with fists coated in iron. Those are days long passed, days where his true name was still whispered in reverent terror amongst the prey. He was feared. He was loved. And though now it is no more, Calder remembers.

The stain of Bertrand runs deep but Calder remembers, a time before his form was twisted and still resembled a human without conscious effort. He remembers walking amongst crowds behind his king, a sword at his belt and a smile like a dagger upon his lips.

He remembers.

The Zone does not.

And so Calder waits. He watches. He waits for blood on the air, whispers of terror, listens to the shadows clamoring in his ears and remains on alert.

The warden is a pain. He is not a man, not worthy of his svezda, but his prison is effective if nothing else. A muzzle cages his jaw – he cannot bite. A straitjacket binds his limbs – he cannot claw or rend or tear. Manacles keep his legs in one shape, bound to the floor – he cannot run or lunge or flee.

Calder is kept a rat in a cage.

And so he is patient.

And so he waits.

It takes many long weeks, long days filled of monotony and torment from the guards, smelling their insipid fear of his presence and sneering hatefully from behind his muzzle. But the moment arrives.

He can see her.

She is near, his svezda, his lost little lamb. His Penelope.

Beautiful, broken, intelligent, idiotic, perfect Penelope.

The shadows clamor and froth and rile. The guards shuffle outside his door, and Calder allows himself to hum in happiness. In satisfaction. He can taste her. She is. . . different. The flavor is off, wine improperly aged or food cooked too long. It makes his stomach twist in revulsion.

There is a chasm where his heart once sat, for what does a beast have need for a heart? But it aches, a phantom of what once was true emotion.

Penelope used to be so like. . .

Calder snarls.

Calder remembers and he does not want to for that is a recollection of failure, of weakness, of a knight not worth his sword and a monster bereft of teeth.

Never again.

He has sworn never again.

And so Calder waits. Watches. Plans.

The halfling child arrived the night prior. His shadows whispered of a ghost made beasts, frothing at the mouth and coated in human blood. They spoke of one very reminiscent of his king, and Calder had smiled, for the pieces are being folded in place by Fate's withered hands at last. He knows his role. All that is required is patience and dedication.

Her smell is wrong. Her taste is wrong.

His Penelope is gone wrong.

Weakened by that boy and that warden and he sneers at the thought of their weakness tainting his perfect girl. She was broken and malleable. And now she is not.

But then something changes.

He tastes it. The rage. The monstrous welling of grief and rage and blind murderous intent. The sweet stench of rot and decay. Of a monster being brought back from the depths to choke out the weakness brought on by humanity.

There is a scream. High, wailing, furious. A beasts roar. A bloodthirsty cry screaming revenge revenge revenge!

And Calder smiles.

The time is now.