Naomi sat huddled against the cold bars, her knees drawn up to her chest, her heart hammering in defiance despite her exhaustion. The metallic chill seeped into her skin, a relentless reminder of her captivity.
Heavy footsteps echoed down the hall, Roe's familiar stride sending a shiver down her spine. He appeared at the bars, leaning casually against them as if greeting an old friend.
"Rise and shine, sweetheart," Roe sneered. "Time to earn your keep."
Naomi's voice was raw but firm. "I'm not moving."
Roe sighed dramatically, retrieving the small remote from his pocket. "Do we really have to do this every time?"
Naomi lifted her chin, defiant despite the fear tightening in her chest. "I'm not your toy."
Roe's expression darkened. Without further warning, he pressed the button.
A sharp sting erupted from Naomi's collar, quickly followed by a rush of dizziness. Her limbs turned numb, her vision swirling as her body slumped to the ground, consciousness slipping away rapidly.
When Naomi finally awoke, a dull ache pulsed through her temples. She was no longer lying on cold stone but instead found herself curled on a rough bedroll. Her cage had changed, now surrounded by lavish decor, stolen paintings, gold-trimmed furniture, and opulent baubles on display like trophies.
Roe lounged in an upholstered chair nearby, watching her awaken with an amused glint in his eye.
"Look sweetheart, it's not that bad," Roe drawled mockingly, gesturing around with exaggerated generosity. "At least you've got a bed now,"
"And look, no dead bodies... yet." Roe laughed.
Naomi curled into herself, gripping the thin blanket like a shield. "What do you want from me?"
Roe rose slowly, approaching the cage with measured steps. He held the remote loosely in one hand, spinning it between his fingers as he spoke.
"I have guests arriving shortly," Roe said softly, dangerously calm. "And I hear he's stubborn. Fortunately, I have you."
He leaned in, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper.
"You're going to help me ask some questions."
Roe stood and walked into an adjoining room.
Naomi sat quietly in the ornate cage, her breathing shallow, gaze fixed firmly on the polished wooden floor beyond the gold-tipped bars. Roe's voice echoed from the other room, low and dangerous, blending smoothly with another, older voice, rougher, steadier, carrying an undercurrent of quiet dignity. Her stomach tightened with dread at the sound.
Two of Roe's men roughly ushered the prisoner into the room, shoving him to his knees in front of Roe's makeshift throne. Naomi glanced up briefly, and froze.
The prisoner was older, his fur tinged gray around the edges, eyes sharp but weary. The dim lantern light caught his features, and something inside Naomi jolted, a buried instinct screaming to the surface. It wasn't just his appearance; it was something deeper, something carried on the faint aroma of bread and flour clinging gently to his fur.
Bread.
The scent, so achingly familiar, tugged violently at her mind.
A memory flashed into focus, a small room, warm, filled with laughter. A voice joking softly, fur brushing against her arm, and a smile so familiar yet so heartbreakingly distant.
"Eli..." Naomi whispered before she could stop herself.
Roe perked up, glancing sharply between Naomi and his prisoner. A slow, sinister smile spread across his lips. "Something you'd like to share with the class, sweetheart?"
Naomi shook her head slowly, desperately trying to suppress the rising memories. But it was too late. The memories clawed at her mind relentlessly, spurred by the faint but unmistakable smell that drifted from the older rat kneeling before Roe.
Freshly baked bread.
Warmth in a cold room. A small, hidden bakery tucked safely away in Rat City's twisting streets. Eli standing behind the counter, laughing warmly, flour dusting his whiskers.
Roe snapped his fingers impatiently, jolting Naomi back to reality. "Now, Edgar," he sneered, leaning forward eagerly. "I hear you had been housing a new arrival. Tall. Human. Goes by Castin?"
Edgar's eyes narrowed, voice defiant but cautious. "Don't know what you're talking about."
Roe's smirk widened as he glanced back at Naomi. "Care to enlighten him, girl? Help Edgar here tell the truth, hmm?"
Naomi closed her eyes, fighting the tears threatening to spill. She reached out reluctantly with her power, her heart hammering at the edge of panic. She could feel Edgar's resistance, the strength in his willpower, until she caught the flicker of his scent drifting on the stale air, something warm and comforting amid the cruelty of the moment.
Freshly baked bread.
Another memory surged forward, powerful and overwhelming.
Eli, laughing as he tossed her a fresh loaf, teasingly accusing her of always eating half their deliveries. Edgar smiling from the doorway, shaking his head affectionately, calling them both hopeless, yet his voice was full of gentle pride and love.
Naomi gasped, tears streaming unchecked down her cheeks. Edgar's eyes widened as he finally recognized her, his voice trembling, breaking with emotion.
"Naomi?" he whispered hoarsely. "You're alive… But Eli, did he—"
"Oh, this is simply delicious," Roe interrupted, savoring the pain rippling between them. "You two know each other?" He leaned back, gesturing extravagantly. "Let 'em talk, boys. I wanna enjoy this."
Naomi reached forward, gripping the bars desperately. "Edgar, I—he's alive. Eli survived the explosion. He's… he's with me. He's been in a coma. I... I didn't remember, I couldn't remember…"
Edgar staggered back as if physically struck, disbelief, hope, and anguish warring openly on his face. "You've had him all this time?"
Naomi choked on her words, shame flooding her, drowning her voice in guilt. "I didn't remember who he was, but something made me stay, I'm so sorry, Edgar, I'm so sorry."
Before Edgar could respond, Roe slammed his boot onto the floor, jolting them both from their emotional whirlwind. His expression twisted in irritation.
"Touching reunion, really," Roe snarled, stepping between them. He pulled his remote from his coat, casually flourishing it between his fingers. "But back to business. Edgar, the human who is staying with you, Castin. What exactly is his connection to the Rat King?"
Edgar stared past Roe at Naomi, still overwhelmed by the revelation, struggling to pull himself together. "I... I don't—"
"Focus, rat," Roe snapped, his voice dangerously cold. He circled the button on the remote with a clawed digit. Naomi flinched, feeling the threat acutely, the burning sensation already a faint ghost at her throat.
Edgar looked desperately back to Naomi, eyes pleading for answers she didn't have the strength to give.
Roe turned toward Naomi, grinning cruelly. "Help him remember, love."
Naomi's heart shattered. Trembling, she reached out once more, her mind brushing Edgar's. She saw flashes of memories, Castin, wounded, tired, vulnerable. Edgar's quiet support. His daughter's concern. Naomi hesitated, deliberately avoiding memories she knew could condemn them all. "He... He's just a lost human, nothing more…"
Roe's eye narrowed dangerously. "Don't lie to me girl."
"I swear," Naomi stammered, voice shaking, "He's nobody."
"Well, is that true mate?" Roe said to Edgar. "I find it hard to believe ol' Castin's a nobody."
"Eli… I can't believe Eli's been alive thi—"
Roe sighed, "Oh not this shit again," disappointment dripping from his voice "That's enough out of you." Without warning, he raised his sidearm and fired. The gunshot exploded through the room as Edgar crumpled silently to the floor.
Roe turned, holstering his weapon calmly. He knelt down slowly beside Naomi's cage, voice icy and chillingly soft.
"Well look what you've gone and done now. When will you learn to behave?"
Noami sat in shock, her entire body frozen in a gripping fear.
He stood slowly, adjusting his coat, glancing dismissively at Edgar's still form before striding casually toward the door, his two guards in tow.
"Don't worry, dearie," he called over his shoulder, voice dripping with malicious amusement. "I'll leave you with some company for now. Try to relax; we've got more guests coming later."
As the door slammed shut behind him, Naomi broke. She sobbed uncontrollably, gripping the bars for support as Edgar's lifeless body lay mere feet away. Every ounce of hope, every glimmer of reunion, shattered in an instant.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Naomi's voice raised in intensity, the same phrase repeated until reaching a fever pitch scream. Naomi's vision blurred, lost in the moment of pure unprocessed emotion. Rage, fear, sorrow, guilt, regret and pain suffocated her as waves of thoughts trying to process the moment washed over her. She screamed still until all the air left her lungs and then, she screamed again. Edgars face lay still, watching her unsympathetically.
Her voice echoed unanswered as she retreated into herself, seeking refuge in memories that now only brought fresh agony.
Elsewhere, Emma stood uncertainly near the doorway, her small paw gripping the doorframe as her wide eyes followed her mother's frantic movements. Elizabeth was tossing clothes into a bag with trembling paws, her breathing ragged, frantic.
"Emma, hurry! Grab your things!" Elizabeth snapped, her voice trembling under the strain of barely contained panic.
Emma stood frozen, unable to comprehend the urgency, heart hammering in confusion. "Mommy, what's going on?"
Elizabeth didn't answer, her movements becoming even more erratic. She snatched clothes, shoving them roughly into a pack, her paws shaking. Emma watched her mother, anxiety gripping her chest, her small voice breaking slightly. "Momma, where's Daddy? You're scaring me."
Elizabeth had her back turned away from Emma, movements sharp and jerky. She still didn't answer.
Emma took a step closer, fear tightening in her small chest. She tried again, desperation breaking her voice. "Mommy, please I—"
Elizabeth whirled around suddenly, eyes wide and wild, her breathing shallow and rapid. Her voice cracked as she looked into her daughter's frightened eyes, words spilling out unchecked.
"Your father could very well be dead right now! Do you understand that, Emma? I need you to—" Elizabeth stopped abruptly, seeing the terrified look on her daughter's face. Her voice softened, quivering. "I'm sorry. We just... we need to go now."
Emma's breath caught in her throat. Her father, Edgar. Her brother, Eli. Both possibly gone forever. She didn't argue, didn't cry out. Instead, she turned silently, feeling numbness take root as she walked through the small doorway into the bakery's front room. The comforting scents of the last batches of baked bread now felt hollow, painful.
Tears slipped down her face silently, matting her fur, trailing cold, damp tracks down her cheeks. Behind her, in the back room, she heard her mother break into sobs, harsh and desperate. Emma stood by the counter quietly, eyes glazed, the scents in the air lingering like an echo of a life she'd already lost.
Finally, Elizabeth emerged, eyes red but dry now, a bag slung hastily over her shoulder. "Come on," she said softly, placing a comforting but tense hand on Emma's shoulder as she guided her out the door. Before stepping out, Elizabeth paused, glancing back briefly at their home one last time to flip their sign marked "Open" to "we'll be back soon!" with the same carving Eli would always make etched into it. Emma noticed her mother's hesitation, the pain etched deeply into her features before Elizabeth straightened resolutely and hurried them into the darkened streets.
They walked quickly through Rat City's winding streets toward the market district, where the imposing presence of the Rat King's palace loomed just a few streets over. Emma moved in a daze, barely noticing the familiar paths she once traveled joyfully with Eli. She closed her eyes briefly allowing her to be lead by her mother, recalling the lantern festival the year before, the warm glow of hundreds of lights dancing overhead. Eli had laughed brightly, holding up a lantern that someone had left behind, words written carefully along its fragile paper sides.
"I hope my family stays safe forever," Eli had read softly. He'd smiled, gently nudging Emma. "You think wishes like these come true, Em?"
Her heart ached. Emma opened her eyes, tears silently trailing down her fur as they finally approached the guarded entrance to the palace.
Elizabeth's voice broke through Emma's foggy thoughts. "Please! We need to see the King," Elizabeth pleaded urgently to the stern guard at the door. "My husband Edgar was kidnapped by armed men, I fear he's hurt or worse."
The guard hesitated only a moment before stepping aside silently, opening the grand doors to allow them entry.
Inside, the splendor of the palace momentarily overwhelmed Emma. Ornate tapestries adorned the stone walls, lanterns casting pools of gentle amber light. But at this moment the beauty felt distant, untouchable. Hollow.
As they moved into the great hall, the Rat King approached calmly, his regal presence radiating quiet strength. He nodded gently toward Elizabeth, his expression calm but sympathetic.
"Elizabeth, Emma," he greeted softly. "I've heard. You are safe now."
Elizabeth exhaled shakily, relief washing over her, but still overshadowed by grief. "Thank you, Your Majesty."
For the first time, the Rat King's gaze settled softly on Emma, his eyes deep with compassion. "There is a room prepared. You'll both be safe here."
A servant appeared, gently guiding Elizabeth and Emma toward the inner halls. Elizabeth moved slowly now, relief weakening her steps. But Emma remained quiet, gaze distant, her heart heavy with the memories of lanterns, laughter, and warmth, all things she feared she might never have again.
Mere moments later The Rat King stood silently in his private chambers, the flickering glow of lanterns casting long, intricate shadows across the sprawling maps and documents laid meticulously before him. His sharp eyes moved swiftly, absorbing details, connecting invisible threads with practiced ease. The room around him, filled with relics of his past and carefully curated symbols of power, felt charged with the tension of revelation.
He paced slowly, his long robes rustling softly against the polished stone floor, lost in contemplation.
The human gang, aggressive and hostile, had abandoned the Ruined Quarter with hardly a struggle, and in their place now stood Roe's smugglers. Why? Roe was many things, cruel, cunning, resourceful but to take control so quietly, so cleanly, without bloodshed, suggested deeper strings being pulled.
Castin's mention of the machine controlling a rat nagged persistently at the edges of his thoughts. The description was hauntingly familiar, unsettlingly reminiscent of something Nikodemus had developed before his catastrophic failure. The device had been buried beneath rubble, lost in flames, or so he'd assumed.
He rubbed his temples slowly, frustration and dread coiling in his gut.
Then there was Roe's trafficking of that peculiar blue substance, dangerous, potent, and specifically tailored to suppress the abilities of those touched by the enigmatic brown-green light. Someone within his city was producing this in secret, someone who understood the intricate workings of such a powerful, volatile substance.
His eyes narrowed.
Naomi. She hadn't been seen since Castin and Matias returned from her hideaway on the outskirts. Her sudden disappearance wasn't coincidence. The timing was too precise, too deliberate.
And then whispers, rumors drifting from Roe's encampment, someone held captive, powerful, dangerous. A weapon, a tool. It must have been Naomi.
His heart quickened with anger and something else, a gnawing, dreadful realization.
The Rat King moved swiftly toward an ornate desk, pulling open a drawer and retrieving faded papers, old reports from the disaster seven months prior. His claws traced carefully over handwritten notes. Blood. Claw marks. Ruined machinery. But never a body.
Never Nikodemus's body.
He exhaled sharply, the pieces finally aligning in his mind with chilling clarity.
"Nikodemus is alive," he whispered, the words cold, heavy, certain. "And at this very moment he's pulling strings from the shadows."
Everything fell into place, a dark mosaic taking form. The explosion, Naomi's strange abilities, the sudden rise of the Gunrunners, the quiet maneuvering in the shadows of Rat City and even poor Eli's Coma, all traced back to one source, one mind: Nikodemus.
The Rat King straightened sharply, authority radiating from him in waves as he moved decisively toward the chamber door. He pulled it open, eyes blazing fiercely as he addressed the guards stationed outside.
"Find Castin and Matias," he commanded urgently, his voice echoing with the undeniable weight of leadership. "Bring them here immediately and send someone to the outskirts, find Naomi's hide out and save young Eli before it is too late."
"Your Majesty?" a guard stammered, startled by the intensity in his ruler's eyes.
The Rat King's voice was steel, resolve unshakable.
"The game has changed, and I will not be caught in checkmate."