“It’s a trap,” I growl, but she’s already reaching for the first victim—a young woman whose arms are locked in partial shift to eagle wings, the bones breaking and reforming in visible waves.
The moment Lyra’s healing light touches the woman, alarms shriek through the facility.
Metal barriers slam down, separating us. I’m trapped on one side with three cages of Broken beginning to open, Lyra on the other with the examination tables and no protection.
“No!” I hurl myself at the barrier, but it’s reinforced steel, designed to contain shifters. My claws screech against metal, leaving gouges but not breaking through.
Crane’s laughter echoes through speakers. “Did you really think I’d make it easy? The healer stays with me, Mountain Cat. You get to listen while I convince her to cooperate.”
Through the barrier, I see him emerge from a side passage, his chimera form moving with unnatural fluidity now that he’s recovered from Lyra’s attack. He’s flanked by two Broken—these ones more functional, moving with almost militaryprecision. Guards, I realize. He’s trained some of them to follow commands.
“Don’t touch her,” I snarl, ramming the barrier again. Ice magic explodes from my form, trying to freeze the metal enough to shatter it, but the alloy is Haven’s Heart design—specifically resistant to extreme temperatures.
“Or what?” Crane gestures, and one of his guards grabs Lyra, yanking her away from the examination table. She struggles, but the Broken’s grip is iron-strong. “You’ll kill me? You can’t even reach me.”
He approaches Lyra slowly, savoring his control. “Now then, Miss Starling. Let’s discuss your cooperation. I need stabilization techniques. Your integrated healing methods applied to my condition. Give me that, and I’ll let your tracker live. Refuse...” He signals, and the cages on my side begin opening fully. “Well. You’ll watch him die, and then we’ll have this conversation again.”
The Broken emerge—three of them, all functional enough to be dangerous. One is massive, bear-based with wolf agility. Another is feline, possibly puma, but with raptor talons. The third makes my blood run cold: a snow leopard base, like me, but corrupted with eagle wings and what looks like reptilian scaling along its spine.
A mockery of what I am. What Crane wants to make of everyone.
They circle me, and I let my leopard’s rage fuel my ice magic. Frost spreads across the laboratory floor, climbing the walls, making every surface treacherous. If I’m going to die here, I’m taking these abominations with me.
But I won’t die. Can’t die. Because Lyra needs me.
The bear-wolf lunges first. I meet it head-on, claws to claws, accepting the toxin risk because I have no choice. We grapple, massive bodies slamming into cages and equipment. I feel clawsrake my shoulder—the same shoulder injured before, wounds reopening—but I ignore the pain.
The feline-raptor attacks from my blind side, talons aimed at my spine. I twist desperately, taking the strike across my ribs instead of my back. Pain explodes through me, toxin flooding my system again.
But I don’t stop fighting.
Can’t stop.
Through the barrier, I hear Lyra: “Let him go, and I’ll cooperate. I’ll help you stabilize your condition. Just call them off!”
“No!” I roar, understanding what she’s doing. “Lyra, don’t?—”
But the corrupted snow leopard hits me from above, having used its malformed wings to gain height. We crash, and this time I feel something crack—ribs, maybe, or worse. The toxin is spreading faster this time, my system already compromised from the earlier exposure.
My vision starts to grey at the edges.
“Stop!” Lyra’s voice breaks with desperation. “Please, Crane, I’ll do whatever you want! Just stop hurting him!”
“Lyra...” I manage, even as the three Broken press their advantage. “Don’t... sacrifice...”
But she’s not listening. She’s watching me die—again—exactly as her visions showed. And she’s making the choice her healer’s heart demands: save the patient, regardless of cost to herself.
“Excellent decision,” Crane says, satisfaction thick in his voice. He signals, and miraculously, the Broken pull back. They don’t retreat far, just circle at a distance, ready to attack again on command.
I collapse, barely maintaining leopard form. The toxin burns through me, trying to force my pathways open, to jam mebetween shapes like it did to the others. I can feel my body beginning to fail, the corruption spreading.
“Now then,” Crane approaches Lyra, producing what looks like a medical restraint. “Let’s get you properly secured, and we can begin?—”
He doesn’t finish.
Because Lyra’s hands, which had been glowing with healing light, suddenly blaze with something else entirely. Storm magic, raw and furious, channels through her healing pathways to create something I’ve never seen—offensive healing, weaponized compassion.
The blast hits Crane point-blank, and he flies backward, slamming into equipment with a satisfying crunch.
