The northern boundary,I confirmed, rising to take point once more.We follow the ridge until it descends, then cross the field of lightning at its narrowest point.
The plan was dangerous—crossing open ground in this realm was asking for trouble—but we’d learned the hard way that staying in one place too long attracted attention we couldn’t afford. The Dark Lord had eyes everywhere, and the longer we remained stationary, the more likely he was to design some new torment specifically for us.
We set off, moving in a tight formation with me in the lead, Laurent in the middle, and Bastien bringing up the rear. Our movements were slower than I would have liked, each step carefully placed to avoid the treacherous terrain. Laurent’s injured leg dragged slightly, leaving a trail of bloody droplets that hissed and evaporated the moment they touched the superheated ground.
The ridge gradually descended toward a flat expanse where lightning arced continuously from ground to sky. The opposite of the natural order above. Each bolt originated from the blackened earth, striking upward toward the low-hanging clouds that never broke, never rained, simply rolled endlessly across the ceiling of our prison.
Stay close,I cautioned as we approached the edge of the lightning field.Watch where I step and follow exactly.
I studied the pattern of the strikes, looking for a rhythm, a predictable sequence we could navigate. There wasn’t one. The lightning was as chaotic as everything else in this realm,designed to make planning impossible, to force us to rely on luck and reflexes that would eventually fail.
Taking a deep breath that tasted of ash and despair, I stepped onto the flat ground. Immediately, I felt the charge building beneath my paws, the hair along my spine rising in response. Three quick steps forward, then a pause as a bolt struck to my right, close enough that I felt its heat against my flank.
Now,I called to my brothers,quickly, before the next wave.
They followed, Laurent moving with surprising speed despite his injury. We were halfway across when the ground beneath us began to vibrate, a warning I’d learned to recognize.
Run!I shouted through our connection.Don’t stop for anything!
We broke into a sprint, abandoning caution as the earth trembled more violently. Lightning strikes increased in frequency, no longer random but seemingly targeted at our fleeing forms. A bolt flashed in my peripheral vision, striking the ground inches from Bastien. He leaped sideways, narrowly avoiding being hit.
Laurent wasn’t as fortunate. A jagged spear of electricity erupted directly in his path. He tried to swerve but his injured leg betrayed him, buckling at the crucial moment. The lightning caught him squarely in the hind leg, the same one that had been injured before.
His scream tore through our mental connection, raw and primal. He collapsed, his massive body convulsing as the current ripped through him. Bastien skidded to a halt, turning back despite the danger.
Go!Laurent managed through waves of agony.Get to safety!
I ignored him, as did Bastien. We wouldn’t leave him. Couldn’t leave him. We were brothers, princes, bound by blood and curse and love. Either all of us escaped or none of us did.
I reached Laurent first, grabbing the scruff of his neck in my teeth. Bastien took position on his other side, shoulder braced against our brother’s flank. Together, we hauled him upright, supporting his weight between us as the lightning continued to strike around us with increasing fury.
Move,I commanded, dragging Laurent forward while Bastien pushed from behind.One step at a time.
Each step was agony for Laurent, the mental echo of his pain washing through our bond. But he didn’t give up, didn’t collapse again. With Bastien and me taking most of his weight, he managed to keep his remaining three legs moving, stumbling across the final stretch of the lightning field toward the relative safety of the rocky outcropping beyond.
We collapsed behind a massive boulder, all three of us panting and trembling from exertion and lingering electrical shock. Laurent’s leg was a ruined mess, fur burned away to reveal charred flesh beneath. The smell of it made my stomach turn.
I’m sorry,he gasped, his mental voice weak and fragmented.I’m slowing us down.
Shut up,Bastien replied, the harshness of his words belied by the concern flooding our bond.We’re not leaving you behind, so save your strength instead of wasting it on apologies.
I examined Laurent’s leg with as much clinical detachment as I could muster. The damage was severe. Worse than any injury we’d sustained since arriving in this realm. In the world above, with our connection to nature, it would’ve healed within a day. Here, where everything was designed to cause maximum suffering and minimum recovery, I wasn’t sure. We weren’t connected to the power saving the forest anymore.
We need to change tactics,I decided, meeting my brothers’ amber gazes.The Dark Lord expects us to continue as beasts, using four legs to navigate his realm. But we have another option.
Understanding dawned in their eyes. Though the witch’s curse had trapped us primarily in beast form, we’d discovered early in our hellish imprisonment that we could partially shift now that the first curse was moot. Not back to full humanity, but to a hybrid state that allowed us to walk upright on two legs in a better posture than the times we carried Isabeau.
It was painful and difficult to maintain for long periods, but it might be our only option with Laurent’s hind leg so damaged. It might push him to heal as well.
It will slow us down,Laurent warned, always practical even in the face of his own suffering.
We’re already slow,I countered.Better slow and together than separated.
Without waiting for further discussion, I focused inward, finding the place where beast met man in the twisted amalgamation of my cursed existence. I pulled on that thread of humanity, forcing my body to reconfigure itself. Bones cracked and shifted, fur receded in some places while thickening in others. My spine straightened with a series of pops that sent pain shooting through my nervous system.
When the transformation finished, I stood upright on two legs, still covered in fur but with a more humanoid posture. My front paws had elongated into something closer to hands, with opposable thumbs that could grip and hold. My face remained largely bestial, but my vocal cords had shifted enough that I could produce sounds closer to speech, though still far from human language.
Bastien followed suit, his smaller frame handling the transformation with slightly less discomfort than mine. Laurent’s shift was clearly agonizing, each crack and pop of reconfiguring bone drawing a muffled howl from his throat. But when it was done, his injured leg could now bear weight, no longer actively impeding our progress.
