Hound’s eyes shot open, his body screaming in agony. He tried to move instinctively, but pain locked him in place. His shattered bones, jagged wounds, and the overwhelming loss of blood left him teetering on the brink of consciousness. His breathing came in shallow gasps, his body limp in the dark puddle that surrounded him, as if lying still could prolong his fleeting life.

A door creaked open somewhere in the distance. Footsteps followed, hesitant at first, then quicker—urgent and determined.

“I need your help” a voice broke through the darkness, shaky and desperate, “I’m stuck here, in the heart of Rivermirror, and I don’t have the means or connections to get home on my own. I’ll take you to a vitaecer, but in return, you don’t kill me… and you help me get back. Deal?”, Emily requested, her heart still pounding from her run.

Hound blinked sluggishly, unable to process the words. His vision spun—figures blurred and swayed, the world too heavy to hold onto.

“I’ll take your silence as a yes”, Emily hurried, her voice trembling despite the confidence she tried to muster. She knelt beside him, her hands rough and urgent against the cold, blood-soaked ground. Her new found clothes,rugged, the kind that spoke of someone who had been running for far too long.

And then, the darkness swallowed him whole once more.

(The next morning)

“Sad to say it, but he’s my most loyal patient,” the vitaecer said with a gravelly chuckle, his hands working methodically as he continued the operation. “Kid ends up here every couple of weeks. Always broken, always bleeding, always crawling back to life.” He glanced at Emily through cracked, grimy glasses. “But you—someone like you has no business being tangled up with someone like him. So, tell me, how do you know him?”

Emily stiffened slightly, her mind scrambling. “He’s my… um…” She paused, then exhaled smoothly. “Best friend.”

The vitaecer’s eyes narrowed, suspicion lurking behind their weary glaze. “Best friend? Funny. He’s never mentioned you—not once. And Hound, well, he doesn’t forget people.”

She squared her shoulders, matching his gaze. “Due to our… differences in status, we prefer to keep our connection private. But he’s still my friend, and I couldn’t just sit by and let him die. That’s why I brought him here.”

The vitaecer huffed but didn’t press further. Instead, he crouched by an old, dust-covered briefcase, its cracked leather surface littered with cobwebs. From within, he retrieved smooth, rune-marked stones, no larger than pebbles, their symbols faintly glowing. Alongside them were threads so filthy their original color was indistinguishable.

Emily let her eyes wander as he worked, truly noticing the space for the first time. The clinic was dim and cramped, the air thick with a mix of herbs, sweat, and rot. Instruments—dull and rusted—lay strewn across shelves. “I had assumed a vetted vitaecer’s clinic would be a little more… sanitary,” she muttered under her breath.

The vitaecer didn’t flinch. “Feel free to clean it. Consider that your payment for the operation.”

Emily scoffed. “I don’t know how.”

“Of course you don’t,” he replied dryly, peering over his glasses. “Let me guess. You’re a young mistress from a River house?”

(River is a civilized, properly developed, city. The neighbouring city Rivermirror being the exact opposite. A city starved, soaked in poverty, crime, and malice. There are, however, no borders separating the two.)

At his words, Emily’s hand instinctively reached behind her. Her fingers closed around a rusty pair of scissors resting on a nearby tray, their edges dull but sharp enough to do harm. She tensed but kept her expression composed. “Yes,” she said softly, her voice sweet and measured. “A woman who’s never labored a day in her life. Surely there are other ways I can compensate.” She offered a smile—charming, disarming.

Her mind raced. No man here has decency. I’ll use that against him, just as they used it against me. Hound waited until Puck was inside me—naked, defenseless. I’ll do the same. I’m already tainted. What’s one more time if it means silencing someone who knows too much?

The vitaecer tilted his head, his gaze steady and knowing. “Put the scissors down, girl. If you really are a friend of Hound’s, you’ve nothing to worry about. He’d gut me before I could lay a hand on you. I’ve treated him long enough to know what he’s capable of—and the nightmares he leaves in his wake.”

“Such a friend, if kept close can be great, if you don’t fear for your own life that is”, He added.

He turned back to Hound, who lay motionless on the makeshift table. The rune stones glowed brighter now, their symbols beginning to pulse as the vitaecer stitched them into Hound’s skin. Emily watched, her stomach churning as the stones melted into him, spreading like ink beneath his flesh. His open wounds sizzled, flesh knitting itself back together with unnatural precision.

Hound’s fractured bones snapped into place with an audible crack, the sound reverberating through the room. Threads of magic turned to ash, slipping away from his body as if they had never been there. The vitaecer moved with unnerving calm, his hands steady as he severed the final threads.

The room fell silent.

Hound’s body shuddered faintly, the final remnants of his transformation settling. His skin, though scarred, was whole once again. The vitaecer stepped back, his work done.

And then, Hound’s eyes fluttered open—silver, shimmering, and unrelenting.