Every Wound Will Shape Me, Every Scar Will Build My Throne

A wet, sharp object piercing her back jolted Michelle into consciousness. The bag was still on her head, as it had been when they took her from outside the hotel on the way to NHS. Michelle hadn’t been able to look at her attackers; she'd just tried to fight with everything she had as they’d cuffed her and thrown her in the back of a van. Michelle then assumed she had been sedated. While Michelle didn't think there had been an injection or smothering with chloroform, she did vaguely recall a warm, relaxing feeling coming over her, making her final attempt to break free futile. Michelle flinched at the continued pain, but something kept her pinned down. It didn’t quite feel like a hand; for one, the nails were too sharp, and she could feel fur tickling her skin. She had to guess some kind of animal was scratching her back, the same animal that had firmly planted its paw on her waist. Michelle winced again, and it growled in protest near her ear. By this point, her entire back was bleeding and raw. The etches were clearly a series of specific shapes.

Trying to gauge her surroundings as much as she could, Michelle deduced she was lying on her side. Her hands felt numb and were bound in front of her, as were her ankles. As she gingerly tried to flex her wrists to regain some of the circulation, she felt the fingers on her right hand come away with more blood from her palm. She could hear several people groan and more responding snarls. Wherever she was, it was warm and musky, possibly underground. It reeked of blood, smoke, and wet dog, to the point where she had to stop herself from retching. Eventually, the scratching on her back ceased, and she let out a laboured breath. The claw briefly dug into her right upper arm, then her left, before retreating. Michelle hissed as her shirt was dragged back down, causing friction between her tender skin and the fabric. A snout nudged at her hand, causing it to unfurl, and something long and moist swiped at the cut on her palm. Initially, it stung, the same way antiseptic would on an open wound, but eventually, she could feel the tingling sensation of platelets forming over its surface. Finally, the bag was pulled off, and she felt her hair, now totally undone from the clips she had had it in earlier, settle on her shoulders and the nape of her neck.

She blinked her eyes open a few times. The room was dimly lit by candlelight. A grey wolf walked away from her to the centre of the room. The fur on its back was slightly patchy, and she made out a few scars there. She wondered if they were similar to the ones on her back now. It dipped its paw in an urn, and when Michelle saw it again, it was dripping with blood. There were a handful of other wolves as well, doing similarly. Michelle wasn’t quite able to sit up yet, but from what she could see, there were about a dozen people, some still with bags on their heads while others frantically tried to look around the room. She met a few of their concerned gazes but didn’t seem to recognise any of them. Most of their clothes were torn from the scratches. However, Michelle could tell they had once been uniforms or tactical gear worn by CTU agents, FBI agents, SWAT team members, military, and police officers alike. Tentatively, she touched one of the wounds on her arm. It wasn’t quite bleeding anymore, to her surprise, but a shudder coursed through her entire body. A few others seemed to wince almost at the same time as she did, but she was sure that was simply due to their own inspections of their bodies. There were similar smaller sparks occurring at what she guessed were the scars on her back, even though she wasn’t touching them at all. Slowly, she pushed herself to a seated position, feeling her heart race in her chest. She was confused, but most of all, she was scared. This was not a typical hostage situation; she hadn’t exactly had any training for escaping from a small pack of awfully deft and composed wolves. She just hoped that CTU, or really, any other agency would do, could find her. Although she didn't think any of their investigation into the people behind the Cordilla virus had found anything like this. What was going on?

Michelle watched the last wolf finish scratching one of the hostages before it trotted over to join the others. One of the wolves, the same grey one as before, disappeared into the darkness on the opposite side of the room. It returned a moment later with a dark-haired woman wearing a navy velvet cloak. She looked young. If Michelle wasn’t mistaken, around Kim’s age, maybe a little older, but the way this woman held herself so formidably, in particular, the golden glow of her eyes that Michelle knew could not simply be a reflection of the candlelight, meant her supposed age was not any indicator of her potential strength. Some of the wolves bowed in her presence as she stepped into the centre of the room. The other people around her seemed to fall silent, almost feeling that their cries of pain were disrespectful.

The woman chanted something in a language Michelle didn’t recognise, and the wolves howled in response. As she said this, the scars seemed to freeze in place on her skin, as though the cuts were now more surface-level and fainter. They felt as though they had healed over, but she could still see the outlines of where they had been, and given how much it had hurt before, she wasn’t going to test out touching them again.

“You are here because your energies have been chosen to fulfil the prophecy of the Oracle of the Wolf.” She said, in English this time. “The twelve of you have been linked in mind, body, and spirit by the twelve scars engraved into your bodies. Everything you feel, physically or emotionally, will also be felt by your peers. Moreover, the blood of a wild wolf has sealed your scars in place.”

As outlandish as it sounded, Michelle couldn't deny that it was true. The way she felt as though all her senses were being overwhelmed made perfect sense now. Twelve people, all worried, all trying to figure out what was going on, all trying to examine the scars on their bodies, amounted to the fear totally consuming her. It also accounted for the continued random spurts of physical discomfort, like flickering burns on her back and shoulders.

“But only one of you can fulfil this prophecy. Only one of you will absorb the energy of the others and gain the power to lead our people. There will be twelve rituals. One of you will perish each time, and the others shall take on your spirit. The final ritual, the Ritual of the Beast, will be the ultimate test of your dedication to the Oracle of the Wolf.”

The words echoed in the room ominously, and Michelle realised this was far beyond anything she could have conceived. If she understood this woman correctly, eleven of the people in here wouldn't make it out alive. While she might not know what these rituals entailed, she did know that she believed what this woman was saying and that if she wanted to live to tell the tale, she would have to comply with her demands.

“The government will find us.” One of the people claimed. “They’re not stupid. There are twelve government agents in here; they probably have a search team out for every one of us.”

“Ah.” She said without a hint of worry as though she had thought about this long in advance. “Smart man. Yes, you've each been chosen for your sense of duty and dedication to serving your country, which I know that one of you will gladly apply here when your time comes. But as for those search teams, anybody who might have witnessed us taking you, well, let’s just say their memory of the situation is a little… lacking.”

“What if we don’t want to do this, huh?” Somebody else shouted. Michelle turned to who she was guessing was a rookie cop, judging by his age and audacity to challenge the woman. “What if none of us want to lead your stupid cult?”

Michelle returned her gaze to the woman in the centre. She subtly motioned her head at a large, black wolf, making Michelle's breath hitch. In one quick motion, it pounced on the cop, who yelped in agony. Michelle doubled over, feeling something dig into her solar plexus. While she couldn’t see the others, she was sure they were feeling it, too. It didn’t last long. The intention here was to demonstrate authority, not to kill.

“How dare you?” She gritted through her teeth, her voice suddenly sounding like gravel. “It is an honour to be chosen. There are people who join us and beg to be a part of this ritual and hope one day that we will find eleven others with kindred spirits to fulfil the prophecy.” The woman let out a breath before speaking sweetly, as she had before. “Now… does anybody else wish to challenge me? Need I remind you that you're all connected now, so whatever foolishness you might engage in will impact everybody else. And believe me, we are very good at putting you in just the right amount of pain to punish you without losing you completely.”

Thankfully, nobody seemed willing to risk being hurt again, but whatever small hope Michelle had of escaping now seemed impossible. And, from the deep feeling of hopelessness forming in her stomach, she gathered the others did, too. These wolves were no ordinary wolves. She knew that they would be keeping a careful eye on them. Feeling eleven other people constantly, on top of her own emotions, would take some getting used to. She wished she could at least somehow mentally communicate with them. After all, her very ideas of reality were being questioned. Was telepathy a far stretch? Michelle tried to think as emphatically as she could but soon realised that having twelve hostages able to communicate in secret was probably a pretty fatal flaw in the cult's process of gaining loyalty. For now, though, Michelle conceded, figuring the best thing she could do was keep her head down until she had a better idea of the situation and whether any kind of uprise or escape was possible.

Somebody else entered the room, another woman, a bit older but still clearly showing the same reverence towards her. “Althea… the other leaders are requesting your presence.” She uttered.

Althea nodded. “Your first ritual will be at the next full moon.” She said before leaving and shutting the stone door with a heavy thud.

Michelle didn’t know what to expect, didn’t know what was going to happen, didn’t know how she would make it out of this besides going through it.

What she did know was that leading this coven or cult or whatever they wanted to call it wasn’t something she was interested in.

But getting out of here sure as hell was.

Eventually, they were taken to another section of what Michelle could tell was a huge underground haven for the cult. There were twelve cells. Each was big enough to only fit a small cot, toilet, and sink. If Michelle wasn’t mistaken, it was identical to the set-up of most prison cells. But then again, prison cells at least usually had windows. The fact that she was underground only made the fact that she was trapped feel worse. Michelle had tried to map out as much of her surroundings as possible, but the wolves that led her there forced them to move quickly. She didn’t even have the chance to get anyone’s name, let alone try to strategise a plan to get them all out of there. All of their weapons, along with phones and other communication devices, had been confiscated. Maybe one of them could figure out where they were being kept — assuming they hadn’t been burned in some kind of ritual fire.

But, for the next month, Michelle simply sat in her cell and tried to get whatever information she could. She was given meagre meals and water through a slot in the door. During that time, she also realised that the other language she had heard Althea speak was Greek. About a week into her imprisonment, she was given some old scriptures and parchment paper. It contained detailed lore in both Greek and English. If she was going to be stuck here, the least she could do was try to learn a thing or two about why. Michelle also learned the name of one person, the owner of the cell directly adjacent to hers. They started talking to each other a couple of days after they were locked in. Not many people had been up for talking initially, as everybody was too understandably occupied with worry and trying their damndest to find a way out. But his name was Harry Banks. He was a senior detective at the LAPD. He had been grabbed in his car on the way home from work and been one of the first people to arrive. The cult members had said nothing, leaving him alone until the other eleven arrived. Michelle realised that she must have been one of the last. While she could not say she knew him or his character well at this stage, he seemed intent on getting out of there, and Michelle had no objections to that. She just wished they could speak a little more privately and create a tangible plan.

When the first full moon came, it was a shock to all of them. Without seeing the sun rise and fall, it had been hard enough to sleep, let alone track how much time had passed. The only sense of routine she could establish was the periodic snuffing of the candlelight around them and the rotation of the wolves and people on guard. It was hard to keep count of them. But, from what Michelle had gathered through her readings, the wolves were, in fact, human cult leaders who had successfully gained the ability to transform. She would fully believe it when she saw it. But given that she was feeling emotions more intensely than ever before and a slew of random itches, bruises, and burns on her scars with no other explanation, she doubted that any of what she was reading about the cult was metaphorical.

They were led back to the ritual room she first woke up in. They stood in a circle as directed, and a few of the leaders, in human form, walked around, passing each hostage a small, ornate box. A few of them opened their boxes. Michelle heard gasps, and saw confused faces, but, most of all, felt pain in her chest. Althea personally handed Michelle her box before walking back to the centre. When she opened it, her breath hitched, and she clasped a hand over her mouth. Inside the box was her wedding ring and a small photo of her and Tony that she kept in her purse. It only made her more aware of how much she missed him.

“One of you is going to lead Chrismos Lukos by the end of all this, but in order to be worthy of that, you need to prove your commitment to us.”

Another leader uttered something, and in an instant, a roaring fire emerged in the centre of the circle. It seemed perfectly contained, like somebody had drawn a boundary around the fire that restricted it.

“The task is simple,” Althea stated. “Each of you will burn the objects in your hands. This is the Ritual of the Past. The aim here is to let go of everything you brought with you here.”

“Like we had a choice,” someone muttered next to Michelle.

Looking around, most people seemed quite hesitant, upset even. Michelle wondered what kind of mementos they each held in their grasp, what kinds of stories were behind them. She tried to tell herself that these were only physical reminders of Tony, that even if she lost them, he was still in her heart and, more importantly, still out there looking for her. But the thought of destroying her only connection to him right now made her heart ache. Michelle pressed her lips together, holding the photo and ring to her body.

“So, that’s it?” another person asked. “You said one of us would die at every ritual, right?”

Althea smiled, and the fire reflected eerily in her eyes. “Don’t underestimate the power of twelve broken hearts.”

Slowly, Michelle and some of the others walked forward. Those who did not were encouraged by the wolves nudging the backs of their kneecaps. She took one final moment to appreciate the objects in her hands, knowing she would never see them again. A few people started throwing their objects in, and she felt like her heart had sunk to her stomach. There were sniffles and stifled cries alike amongst them. Tears pricked the backs of her eyes, both from the emotions she was sensing and the smoke from the fire. At such a short distance, the hot air was unbearable but at least preferable to the stench of the room. As she prepared herself to take part, she was struck with hesitation. It felt like a betrayal. It felt like she was committing to never seeing him again.

Suddenly, she heard a growl, followed by a sharp cry, along with a shooting pain wrapping around her forearm. She turned to see a wolf with its jaws encasing a woman's bleeding arm. Her hand was just shy of her back pocket, holding something between her fingers. Althea walked towards her furiously, and the wolf released her arm. Blood trickled down to her fingertips.

“You thought nobody would see you try to pocket that?” she said, snatching what looked like a pendant from a necklace.

“Please…” the woman begged. “It’s the only thing I have left of my brother from before he died.”

Althea scoffed, throwing it into the fire on her behalf. The woman let out a sob, and Michelle felt deep sympathy for her. Taking a deep breath, Michelle knew she couldn’t put off the act any longer. She closed her eyes, raising the photo and ring to her mouth and kissing them.

“I’m sorry, Tony,” Michelle whispered.

As quickly as she could, both to reduce the emotional impact and also to avoid burning her hand, she dropped the ring and photo collectively into the blaze. The photo seemed to burn up instantly, but the ring made a tinkling sound as it fell to the floor, so she figured it would take a little longer. There had been similar sounds before; she wasn’t surprised that other people also had jewellery to burn. Hot tears burned her cheeks as she stood there watching the fire. She felt like it was hard to breathe, the pain emanating from her chest to her entire abdomen. Michelle had one hand over her heart while the other held her elbow.

She whipped her head around at the sound of someone howling out in despair. It was the same woman from before, now on her knees. Her face was screwed up in a grimace, and she clutched at the fabric of her shirt. One of her hands was planted on the dirt floor, desperately trying to stabilise her shaking body. Michelle watched in horror as she cried and screamed but was even more so shocked by Althea’s lack of reaction, as though watching people in agony was just another day for her. It looked as though she was having a heart attack.

“Hey!” Banks shouted, rushing over to her side. “What the hell did you do to her?”

Althea stood between them, and just by placing her hand under his collarbone, he was sent flying against the wall with a loud thud.

“I haven’t done anything. But if you get in the way of anything again, believe me, I will.”

Michelle wanted to help the woman and Banks but felt like her feet were glued to the floor. And even then, what could she do, call an ambulance? She was powerless here, quite literally. The only way she would even have a chance is if she had the support of the others, but right now, they all seemed just as frozen in shock. So, with great guilt and worry, her eyes flitted between the two of them.

Eventually, the woman collapsed forward, stilling. Michelle knew she had died when one of the scars on her back suddenly burned, as though it was being branded into her skin. She stumbled back, leaning a shoulder against the wall and wincing. At the same time, she felt a surge of power within her, like she had absorbed the might of the person into her very core. It was the first positive experience she had had thus far. A very small part of her wondered what it would be like to feel more and realised that maybe this was the power Althea had been referring to. But right now, that curiosity was incredibly overshadowed by her shock.

Althea said something about the timing of the moon for the next ritual and praised the remaining eleven of them for their strength. But Michelle didn’t absorb any of it. She was too busy thinking about how she didn’t even know the woman's name. She was too busy thinking about her loved ones. She was too busy thinking about how this woman died for no good reason and that her body might never be found. Banks groaned a little behind her, and she turned around to help him to his feet. To her relief, none of the leaders seemed to mind. He thanked her quietly, and they were led out of the ritual room in a single-file line as before. Regardless of whether anybody had been daring enough to seriously contemplate escape before, given what had just transpired, Michelle doubted anybody was up for it now. And in all fairness, she wasn’t either. It was one thing to be outnumbered; it was another thing to be outnumbered against people whose power she had greatly underestimated.

When she returned to her cell, she hugged her knees to her chest and started to cry, wondering whether Tony had any idea where she was.

“Who did you burn?”

Michelle rolled in bd towards the sound of Banks’ voice. It had startled her a little, but, to be fair, she wasn’t exactly getting any sleep to start with. “What?”

He cleared his throat. “In the ritual. You were burning a photo.”

Michelle slowly stood up and moved towards the gate of her cell. She rested her forearms on the cool metal, being mindful of the lock on the door. Even though it looked quite old and rusted, something that she could, in theory, break or pick if she tried hard enough, she had figured out early on that it was enchanted in some way because simply touching it gave her body what felt like a huge jolt of electricity. It was hard to see in the dark, but based on the shadows, Banks also seemed to be avoiding the lock.

“My, uh, my husband,” Michelle answered quietly, not wanting to disturb the others, even though she doubted they were asleep. “What about you?”

“I was given a photo of each of my kids.”

She nodded with understanding. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what they’re going through with you gone.”

“They’re both working in Seattle. I have to wonder how long it took them to find out I was missing.” Banks sighed. 

“How old are they?”

His eyes crinkled. “Alyssa and Jordan are both in their twenties. They’ll be okay. They’re strong kids. I know they’ll be fine. It’s just… they’re all I have.”

Michelle noticed his voice break slightly and felt a faint clutch in her chest. “Hopefully, we can get out of here so you can see them.”

“Damn right, we better.”

A small surge of hope rose within her. She could tell it was from him. She had slowly gotten better at discerning her own feelings from the others. “Any idea how?”

“The only chance we have is when they move us from here to the other room. But we'd need to coordinate everybody. If only one or two of us try to make a break for it-”

His words died off suddenly, and a chilling sensation coursed through her. Someone was watching or eavesdropping. And she had the feeling it wasn’t just one of the other hostages. Their eyes met in the dark, and they each retreated to their beds. There was no point in discussing details if, one, the hostages were not listening in and, two, the leaders were privy to it. After that night, she and the other hostages were never left alone. There was always at least one person or wolf on guard, even as they slept. Michelle couldn’t help but feel a little at fault. Maybe if she and Banks hadn’t discussed escaping, they would still have the luxury of privacy.

Much like last time, Michelle counted that roughly a month had passed when they were finally led out of their cells for the next ritual. Unsurprisingly, there were also more cult leaders there, in a one-to-one ratio with the hostages. She was confused when they weren’t directed down the same route to the room they’d been through previously. This time, they walked up a narrow spiral of stairs, and, to both her relief and suspicion, she realised they were headed outside. The moonlight faintly crept in near the top of the stairwell, making her eyes hurt a little, which made sense, considering she had only seen candlelight for the last couple of months. It seemed like a beam of moonlight was perfectly aligned with the passage. She wondered if this was intentional. When she inhaled the first few breaths of fresh air, she revelled in it, trying to take in as much as she could, knowing they likely wouldn’t stay out here for too long.

When they emerged, she tried her hardest to notice any distinct details about her surroundings to help figure out where she was. But, to her dismay, she seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. She realised they must be quite far from the city because there was very little light pollution. It was almost as dark as it had been underground. All she could see was an endless expanse of trees and shrubbery. Michelle caught a glimpse of the building behind her but was forced to turn around before she could get a decent look. There were no cars around, and it seemed rather plain, very unlikely to be something she could describe over the phone if she, say, had the chance to get in contact with CTU. She felt the ground soften under her shoes and looked down to find the grass was covered in clumps of dirt. Eventually, they stopped walking, and her eyes widened at the sight.

There was a series of large rectangular pits, each one illuminated by a lantern set beside it. Michelle counted eleven of them and knew without a doubt that they were meant to be graves.

Althea walked in front of them, and Michelle felt some combination of ire, fear, and hatred within her. At least it seemed like the hostages had the same stance about her, but she still wondered whether anybody was more rapt by her than they let on.

“You have proved your willingness to let go of your previous attachments, but now it is time for your former selves to die. Ten of you will succeed, but one of you will be incapable of separating your present and past.”

Michelle gulped.

They were going to be buried alive.

Her knees felt like they were going to give out. When one of the wolves nudged her to move, she fell to the ground. She quickly stopped herself from landing flat on her face by planting her hands on the grass. But just as she went to try to stand, the wolf grabbed her ankle with its mouth and started dragging her through the grass to one of the pits. She cried out, desperately clawing at the blades of grass to resist the pull, but to no avail. Michelle could already feel heaviness on her chest as other people were dragged into their ditches and dirt was poured on top of them. The wolf practically tossed her down, and she was shocked at how deep it was. She felt like she was sinking further and further into the earth.

Michelle consciously tried to slow and deepen her breathing, knowing every intake could be her last. She was quick to squeeze her eyes shut and covered her nose and mouth with her hand as the first pile of dirt was pushed onto her. It landed on her neck, but a few particles ended up on her face. She already felt like she was suffocating and didn’t know how she was going to be able to survive when there was dirt actually blocking her airways. Michelle’s body was shaking. Every part of her was screaming to sit up and get out of there before it was too late. But she knew that the more she struggled, the more painful this would be. And even then, her ankle was still aching; she wouldn’t be able to run very far even if she did climb out.

While she couldn’t bear the thought of feeling somebody else die again, she still hoped this ritual would be over quickly. The dirt fell on her in small increments, each time by the same wolf who stared her down with beady green eyes. But it didn’t matter if it was only a few specks at a time because, with everybody else’s panic and the combined physical weight of the soil on top of them, there may as well have been a pile of bricks on her chest. Michelle tried her hardest to shove the incoming dirt downwards so it covered her body first. At some point, though, she couldn’t keep up with the pace, and when darkness started to form at the edges of her vision, she prayed her death would be quick. It was as though she was paralysed, the heaviness and sluggishness consuming her entire body. Eventually, she was covered in it and used every ounce of energy she had to keep her eyes closed, knowing that if she opened them, she would still see nothing but black. 

Her breaths were warm against her palm, and as time passed, they grew more and more shallow. It hadn’t been particularly cold outside, but the temperature underground was so hot that it caused her to sweat even more than she already was. She wanted it to end. Michelle swore to herself that if she survived this, she would never complain about anything for the rest of her life. She would never take a breath of oxygen or ray of light for granted ever again. Michelle let out a sob and arched her back involuntarily as one of the scars on her back seared. Someone had died. Despite that horrible realisation, she knew there was no reason to just fantasise about fresh air or light because now she could get some. The other survivors must have come to the same conclusion because she felt a desperate burst of determination within her. Some of the heaviness in her body had already eased, and she mustered her strength to start pushing the dirt off her. It meant she had to let some fall into her nose and mouth, but it just made her move that much faster.

When Michelle felt cold wind brush against her hand, she quickly found a patch of grass where the ground hadn’t been weakened and used the resistance to push herself up. She wiped grime off her face with her other hand so she could see better. Somebody grabbed her wrist, and she was relieved to find it was Chung, a military lieutenant she had spoken to a handful of times, helping her dig out. It took her a second to recognise him because he was covered in grass and mud. She knew she was, too and had to wonder if he even knew who he was helping. Michelle found her footing and collapsed forward into his arms. He was shaking and panting raggedly. She gasped hoarsely and tried to stop herself from hyperventilating so she could breathe properly. There was dirt under her fingernails, and she wanted nothing more than to scrub her body of every last molecule. 

Pulling back from his hold, she saw more survivors getting each other out of their graves. Someone screamed as they realised the person they were pulling up was not moving. The patches of their skin that were not dirty were ashen. Their body was limp as they were placed on the ground beside the grave. Whoever had tried to help them squeezed their shoulders and yelled what she guessed was their name, but everybody knew it was too late.

“Enough,” Althea said sternly, grabbing the person by the collar and yanking them to their feet. Again, Michelle was astounded by her strength. Even though Althea looked about half the size of the person she was lifting, she did so like it was nothing to her.

One by one, they were led to a small river and allowed to bathe before being given a fresh set of clothes. The only method of bathing they had had so far was a sponge bath given to them every couple of nights or so. Michelle was grateful to finally be able to rid herself of the outfit, or what was left of it, she had been wearing since she was captured. She never wanted to see it again. The clothes she was provided looked simple and hand-made, but they were clean, and that was all that mattered. Her breathing was still heavy and emphatic as she washed herself with quivering hands. The wound on her ankle had healed over, but the soreness lingered. Michelle figured the wolf saliva had some kind of healing compound. She wished she could have spent longer in the water, but the leader supervising her ordered her to get out, and she didn't feel like arguing.

Her cell had felt tiny to start with, but now that she had experienced the liberation of being outside after weeks of imprisonment, she dreaded going back. However,  she was so exhausted by the time she made it to her bed that she fell asleep almost immediately. Michelle dreamt of the experience in vivid detail and had to force herself awake to remember where she was. Every time she shut her eyes again, the nightmare replayed, each time slightly different. She wondered if she would ever be able to forget it and felt incredibly anxious to know that the worst was yet to come.

However, the only version of the dream she could tolerate was the one where Tony pulled her out of the darkness instead of Chung. 

It had been well over a month since the last ritual, debunking Michelle's theory that they occurred with every full moon. That was one of the few things she had been somewhat comfortable to assume, that all she had to do was survive for twelve months, but now that slight sense of certainty was gone. She had been able to talk to more people and learned a few more names. The rookie cop who had dared to speak back to Althea when they were first taken was named Scott Blane. Michelle knew her intuition was generally not something to ignore. One of the few perks of the rituals was that it had gotten even better. But Michelle didn’t need that extra perception to know she didn’t trust Blane. He had taken every opportunity to make snide comments towards the leaders despite knowing that any punishment for his defiance was collective. However, if he was so eager to challenge authority and profess that the cult wouldn't control him or keep him here, then why hadn’t he taken any initiative to escape? Either he was just as scared as everybody else, or perhaps he was a little too excited by the prospects of the power of twelve people to actually intend any of what he was saying and was only putting up the rebellious facade to make sure nobody suspected him.

But Michelle still felt lonely. Every passing day made her tiny, lingering hope dissipate. She still wasn’t sleeping particularly well either. The nightmares were less often. However, the terrible sense of foreboding, the endless wondering of when they would be released and what they would be forced to do next, was enough to keep her up and make her restless. Michelle was also still grieving the two people who had died so far. It made her somewhat reluctant to get too friendly with anybody else, purely because, with time, the likelihood of rescue was less and less likely. While nobody was bold enough to say it out loud, deep down, she could feel that everybody was trying to keep their own morale up, purely because prevailing through these treacherous rituals was the only chance of escape. And the rituals so far seemed to be about survival, about endurance. Michelle hoped that theme would persist; at least, she wouldn't have to hurt anybody else directly.

Michelle shifted again on the cot, feeling a sharp pain in her left deltoid. It had been there since the last ritual but seemed to have gotten progressively worse over time. She knew it wasn’t her pain. Initially, her neck had hurt the most from the fall into the ditch. Everybody had had some kind of injury from that night, which had resulted in shared body aches for all. Most of the pain had faded by the end of the first month. But this shoulder injury still stuck out to her. It felt more chronic. It was like somebody had constantly carried this pain with them, but the ritual had made it worse. She figured with the different sleeping positions and habits of the other hostages, it hadn’t had the time to return to a more manageable level.

She heard someone curse from across the narrow alley between the cells. They did it again, louder. Sitting up, she tried to look for moving silhouettes in the candlelight. Her night vision had certainly improved, but she wasn’t sure if that was due to the extra power or simply because she had been in the dark for so long. Judging by the position of the shadow, she knew Banks was up, trying to circle his left arm to reduce the tension in his shoulder. Michelle could sense small improvements in the stiffness of the shoulder, but she deduced that the strain likely wasn’t muscular.

“Banks, are you alright?”

“Yeah.” He huffed. “Just an old injury playing up. I just had to land on my bad side.”

The thin mattress creaked as she sat up.

“What happened?”

“I was shot in the shoulder about ten years ago. The doctor had to leave the bullet in there because it was too risky to extract.” Banks sighed. “It causes me some nerve pain from time to time, but I don’t think it’s felt this sore since it happened.”

Hearing this reminded her that Tony had been shot the day she was taken. She hoped he had managed to recover well despite the stress he had been under and was likely still under. It sent shivers down her spine to think about how close she’d come to losing him. While she might not have seen him in months, she knew he was out there somewhere, alive. At least, that was what she kept telling herself.

“Michelle?”

Banks had to repeat her name a couple more times before she shook herself out of the spiral she usually ended up in when she thought about Tony.

“Yeah?”

“You were thinking about him, weren’t you?” he said bittersweetly.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “He… he was shot the day I was taken. I just hope he’s okay.” Michelle wiped under her eyes. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make this about me.”

Banks shrugged. “We’re all sharing the same pain. I miss my kids. You miss your husband. Everybody misses somebody here. Everybody’s in some kind of pain. There's no use in keeping it in and not talking about it when we can all feel what we’re going through.”

Michelle became cognisant of a mutual contentment between them. While she was still physically uncomfortable, the knowledge that she was understood made her relax a little, and she managed to sleep a few more hours. But the following night, she was met with the sound of Althea’s voice instructing the other leaders to release them and queue them up for another ritual. They were led back to the ritual room, not outside like last time. There was a large urn in the centre, surrounded by a collection of smaller urns. She had a hunch there were ten, one for each of them. Before Michelle could take a good look at them and count for sure, she was forced to her knees and then to lie on her back. Her hands were bound underneath her. Sharp, familiar pangs shot through her body as everybody’s healing injuries and their linking scars were irritated.

“These urns hold sacred water blessed and charged under the light of a full moon,” Althea explained. “This water has the power to cleanse and heal the mind, body and spirit.”

While that didn’t sound particularly ominous, she knew they weren’t exactly about to get some sort of spa treatment. And she knew nobody else was falling for it, either, judging by the reciprocated increase in heart rate. The leader standing over her, the same human who had supervised her while she had bathed in the river last time, walked towards the centre and returned holding one of the urns to her body, along with a rag.

“So, it is only right that we use this water to rid your bodies of any last doubts towards serving us and eliminate the one who holds that doubt deep within their soul.”

The rag was suddenly smoothed tautly over her face, smothering her. She tried to move her head, but the woman pressed down harder with one hand and used the other to pour water from the urn over the rag. Michelle coughed and attempted to spit out the influx of water in her mouth, but the cloth acted like a seal, forcing her to swallow it in one gulp. She jerked involuntarily, letting out a muffled noise of discomfort. More and more water filled her mouth. There was so much that she couldn’t even consciously swallow it. It became harder and harder to breathe. Being waterboarded on her own wasn’t exactly easy to resist, but just like when they were buried, she could feel the weight and fullness of the other nine urns of water flood down her throat and into her airways. Michelle managed to exhale some of the water from her nostrils, but not fast enough to keep up.

Unlike last time, there was nothing she could do to resist, no way to at least try to make it easier for her. Even small movements of her head only made the leader keep her pinned down more firmly. All she could hear was the sound of gulping and the emphatic beat of her heart. There was a brief moment where the flow of liquid stopped, allowing just the droplets from the towel to fall downwards. But, to her dismay, this was only because the leader was refilling the urn to begin again. She poured it faster this time, and it splashed onto her neck, chest, and hair, adding to the feeling of being suffocated, like her lungs were slowly filling with water. Over time, she felt more and more nauseous, like her entire digestive system was being immersed in water. Every reflexive gasp or effort to resist only made it worse. The leader paused her torture again, giving her a brief opportunity to try and take in some air. As she poured the third urn, the agony of feeling like she was drowning was replaced with a sombre burning pain on her back, further up than last time. As she tipped her head back, it accelerated the flow of water, and she knew she could no longer hold onto the contents of her stomach.

Thankfully, the leader knew the ritual was over because she pulled away at just the right moment. Althea chanted something, but Michelle didn’t hear it as she sat up in a jolt and threw up violently beside her. Most of it was bile. Their limited supply of food had ceased in the last few days, which Michelle now knew was because they had wanted their stomachs to be empty. Michelle knew she had lost some weight because of this, but she didn’t feel as weak as she thought, probably because of the power she’d absorbed. She hacked up every drop of water she could, feeling tears prick her eyes. Michelle could vaguely hear others doing the same thing. Her chest and throat felt heavy and sore, and the water that had dried on her skin was cold against her sweaty body. Shakily, she straightened her posture, trying to look for familiar faces and deduce who hadn’t made it this time. If she wasn’t mistaken, the unconscious body on the floor belonged to a SWAT officer. The officer had probably never had any torture resistance training, would have had her whole career in front of her, and, since she had been chosen by the cult, would have been someone with a lot of promise.

When they returned to their cells, Michelle found that every slight reminder of water, even down to the sound of the steady drip from the faucet, made her feel sick. Lying down only made her body feel heavier, so she sat up instead, trying to breathe deeply, as though the stale, musky air could dry out her lungs. Every now and then, she, or somebody else, would have a coughing fit, demanding her body to expel any remaining liquid inside of it. She spent most of the remainder of the night keeled over the toilet and hoped that they would be allowed to clean up sooner than usual. The lingering smell of vomit did not help her to feel any better. Finally, when she tried to sleep, and her breathing had slowed down a little, Michelle reminded herself that she was still alive, still breathing, even if it pained her to do so. And that gave her a surge of strength. It was a strength she was determined to carry with her for the rest of her life when, not if, but when she escaped the clutches of the cult.

It was a strength that she knew Tony would be proud of her for.

While Michelle couldn’t say the rituals had made her feel particularly different so far, one night, she became aware of her slightly heightened senses. Generally, there was always a little chatter amongst the remaining hostages, what with it being hard to tell the time and nobody feeling particularly inclined to sleep given the constant fear beneath them all. However, she found herself hearing a quiet conversation between what sounded like Althea and one of the other cult members. Judging by their respectful tone, they were not a leader. 

“Please,” she begged eagerly. “I’ve served Chrismos Lukos for nearly a year now. Let me witness one of the rituals. Let me see what I’m working towards.”

“I know,” Althea said sweetly, although Michelle did not believe the woman was capable of kindness. “But until we find enough people aligned with your energy, I cannot allow you to watch what is only reserved for our leaders.”

Michelle furrowed her brow, trying to concentrate. She had to actively focus on the conversation but was amazed that she could hear it from so far away.

“Michelle, what’s wrong?” Banks asked, temporarily breaking her train of thought.

She shook her head, hushing him. While she had missed the start of what the cult leader had said, she now sounded angry. It seemed she had been asking Althea for this for some time. It upset Michelle to think of someone being so manipulated into thinking that these rituals were something to strive for or see as honourable when she would not wish this on anyone. Michelle felt useless sitting there while people were brainwashed into doing Althea's bidding. She wondered how many were part of the cult, sacrificing their livelihood to serve a cause and leaders who thought of them as nothing more than assets. 

Althea calmly asked the member if she was questioning her authority. Michelle knew it was a warning, a final chance for her to back down and accept that she would have to wait. But her ongoing frustration was clouding her judgement because she protested again. Michelle genuinely feared for this woman's life. There was silence, and she was vaguely aware of Banks staring at her with concern. For a second, she heard nothing but the sound of her racing heart, but she gasped upon hearing a vicious growl and someone screaming in pain. Her hand covered her mouth, and a few of the other hostages reacted, too, knowing that something was going on. The silence returned, and she felt a pit in her stomach, knowing without a doubt that that woman was dead.

“Oh my God,” Michelle said quietly, now worrying whether Althea had any idea that she had heard the entire conversation. 

Banks was still looking at her, now both confused and worried. She became aware of how fast her breathing was.

“D-Didn’t you hear that?”

“The person being mauled to death? I think everybody heard that.”

“No. Althea.” She took in a shuddering breath. “One of the members had asked her to see the rituals. They fought, and then she killed her.”

He tilted his head. “I… I didn’t hear any of that, Michelle.”

For a second, she wondered if she was going insane. Maybe she was just half-asleep and mixing memories into her nightmare. But by this point, her intuition was nothing to doubt, so she believed what she had heard was real.

“Maybe it’s just my hearing then.”

“I believe you,” Chung said from a few cells over. “I know I’ve gotten better at seeing in the dark, so maybe your body has concentrated the power into your hearing.”

She craned her neck a little to look at him, feeling reassured. It made sense. By now, three people had died, and they had collectively absorbed their energy. If enhanced senses were an effect of that, it at least beat the pain and misery that had resulted so far. It made her wonder, with curiosity, what kind of other effects might show between now and the final ritual — assuming she made it that far. She felt guilty every time she thought about making it to the end because she knew it meant the death of the other hostages, people she was supposed to be united with against the cult, people that, if they had better resources, she would still be trying to escape with. However, based on the emotions she was picking up on, a skill she had also gotten better at, she knew they mostly felt the same way. Yes, there was a camaraderie between them because of their suffering. But because escape was not a viable option, if push came to shove, it was every person for themselves. She also felt a growing despair, concentrated towards one particular person. Obviously, none of them were particularly thrilled about their situation. But for this person, their hopelessness seemed to consume them.

Michelle continued to test her hearing abilities until they were dragged out of their cells for the next ritual. Before they even made it to the room, she felt an unbearable heat emanating through the door, not unlike the first ritual where they burned the mementos they had carried with them. When the door opened, Michelle coughed at the billows of smoke emanating from a raging fire in the centre of the room. She wondered how it had been controlled so effectively. Michelle could faintly see a ring around the fire painted in what looked like blood and noticed the flames never flickered past it. It was as though there was a giant cylindrical barrier surrounding it.

When Althea stood before them, Michelle couldn’t help but feel an added level of fear she hadn’t had previously. She had killed someone so clearly devoted to her and the cult without a care in the world. Of course, given how she treated the hostages and the intensity of the rituals, it made sense, but at least there was something of a reason for that. Killing someone in cold blood was different. It made Michelle wonder how far that callousness went. Whether she would even kill a leader, one of her equals, if they simply disagreed with her. Michelle knew she would have to be very careful if she made it to the end. Nothing made her feel sicker than the thought of serving Althea or working alongside her to perpetuate the practices of the cult. But if she wanted to escape and find CTU so they could take the cult down, she knew she would have to keep herself alive, no matter what that took.

“For one to earn the spirit of the wolf, they must have enough fight within them. They must be capable of fury, of harnessing their energy to fuel their power.”

The underlying anguish spiked, and Michelle looked around to try to deduce who it was. For them, trying to make it through yet another ritual seemed like more effort than it was worth. She wondered if this person was considering rebelling, but there was no determination in their soul. The others seemed to have at least some motivation, but for this person, it was non-existent.

“For one of you, this ritual will determine that you are not capable of leading us, and your spirit will be sacrificed to aid those who can.”

Another leader took a small vial containing what she guessed was wolf’s blood before pouring it over the fire. Just a few drops caused the fire to enlarge violently and shift from orange to white. Tears blurred her vision as every inhale suddenly felt futile. The room had been stuffy to start with, but now it reeked of musk and something slightly floral, a herb of some kind. As if the intense smell wasn’t intolerable enough, every breath now burned her oesophagus. It felt like acid scorching down her throat and up her nose. The collective adrenaline also didn’t help, making her respire faster than she wanted to. Michelle lifted the fabric of her shirt to cover her mouth to try to maintain some control over her body.

Obviously, a few of the others had the same idea because the sensation briefly improved but probably wouldn't last long, judging by Althea’s scowl. The slight hope among them disappeared, replaced with the familiar anxiety and ongoing distress. Althea muttered something to one of the leaders, but she was in too much pain to hear it properly. Michelle watched with horror as a wolf pounced on Chung and forced him to his back while Althea poured some of the bloody mixture into his mouth. He writhed in pain, and Michelle placed her other hand over her throat, feeling the burning increase again. They hadn't been restrained this time, and she briefly considered making a run for the door, but as soon as she thought about it, the wolves started to surround them.

She couldn’t help but continue to focus on identifying the person feeling deep misery, even through their shared frightening experience. Michelle looked around, noticing that one man not far from her, who she noticed had generally been very quiet, looked as though all the colour had drained from his face. She had spoken to him maybe once. If her memory served right, he was a junior NSA analyst. His age and lack of field experience always struck her as odd. She supposed it meant his determination to serve his country had made a large impression on the cult. It also made her wonder how many profiles they had sifted through and where they had gotten the information. But right now, he looked as though he were dissociating, his hand quivering as he held his shirt to cover his nose and mouth.

The sound of another person screaming distracted her from her observation. As she whipped her head around, she realised that Althea was going around one by one to administer the concoction to them. Michelle realised that she was next after Banks and had barely had the time to prepare herself. Sharp crescent moons suddenly dug into her chest, and her head hit the floor. As the liquid spilled into her mouth, she tried to spit it back out, but to no avail. Seeing Althea this close, seeing no emotion save for the faintest hint of delight, made her shiver. The skin there was so raw that even the slightest pressure from the air moving around her throat caused her excruciating pain.

Althea and the wolf moved away. Michelle slowly sat up, finding that her eyes were stinging so much by this point that she could barely keep them open long enough to maintain awareness of her surroundings. The person beside her was pushed to the ground, but she briefly locked eyes with the NSA analyst who was one over. He was shaking his head, unable to look away from watching someone be subjected to the torture he was about to receive. Michelle sensed resolution rise within him and wondered what he intended to do.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped loudly.

He suddenly lunged forward, to everybody’s surprise. One of the wolves went to grab his leg, but he was too quick, and everybody froze in horror, watching as he dove into the fire. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Banks try and reach for him, but a wolf forced him back. It didn’t matter if he tried anyway because the analyst’s body had been entirely incinerated by the blaze already. There was a harrowing scream she was sure she would never forget. The burning in her throat and mouth was suddenly insignificant, as she felt every inch of skin sting like she had poured boiling water all over herself. It freaked her out that her skin was visibly fine when it felt like she could peel it off. She was vaguely aware of another scar on her back burning in.

As the full-body sensation dissipated, tears streamed down her face, and the heightened fear that had been within them all was now nothing but a hollow, grim sadness. This was not like the other deaths. The feeling of newly gained power was so drowned out by the emptiness consuming her body. Morbid thoughts crossed her mind. She felt compelled to give up like nothing mattered anymore, and she could never feel happy again. Michelle heard Althea scold the other leaders for not acting quicker but otherwise lost all focus. It took her a second to realise she had been brought back to her cell. She sat, trembling, sobbing uncontrollably, and listening to the others do the same. They had grieved every other death from the rituals, but this was the worst by far. 

Michelle lifted her pillow to bring out the pamphlet she had been given and flicked to the back page. At some point, she had started writing down names and anything else she had learnt about them, using a dark piece of graphite from the wall. Despite her efforts, she didn’t have all of them. In particular, those whose cells had been the furthest away from hers.

“D-Did anybody know his name?” she asked thinly.

There were a few mutters, but thankfully Chung knew.

“Nichols. Lance Nichols.” 

Nodding, she saw her tears land on the paper as she wrote his name in full beside the note about him being an NSA analyst. She vowed to herself that if she came out of this alive, she would personally inform the agencies of their fallen agents. Their families, too, if they would let her. She wanted to explain that they didn’t die for nothing, that they died trying to fight for their lives.

Michelle just hoped someone would do the same for her if she didn’t make it.

While her grasp of time during her capture had been rough, at best, after Nichols’ suicide, Michelle could no longer muster the energy to pay attention to the subtle changes in light around the room. She did not eat much of the food offered. She spent most of her days lying in bed. The absence of the usual quiet chatter between them only made her feel more alone. What was there to say besides speculating about the next ritual? Even the small curiosity she had had about her enhanced hearing had disappeared. Hearing the leaders through the walls soon became frustrating and overwhelming. There was no way to switch off the hearing; she just had to learn to get used to the extra noise, which was difficult. At the back of her mind, she was aware that the leaders not knowing she could eavesdrop was an advantage, but she was too drained to care. Part of her wondered if it was the combined effect that made this impossible. She would like to believe she was stronger than this, but overcoming the grief of one soul was not the same as overcoming the grief of eight.

Michelle thought back to the hotel, how she had watched so many people die and been helpless to stop it. It was a lot like how she had felt in her time here. She had had to brace herself constantly for the next ritual, wondering what kind of barbarity they would be forced to endure. There was a fear for her own life but also a fear of experiencing another wave of grief if she managed to survive. Michelle recalled waiting for her test results, wondering if she would be next. Finding out she was immune had been the light at the end of a very dark day. She remembered hearing Tony’s voice and how relieved he had been, but her bliss had come at the cost of distracting her for just the right amount of time, and the cult had captured her.

One day, somebody clearly had had enough because Michelle sensed a small burst of motivation, a slight change in mindset. She was glad they had found the drive within them when seven other grieving and exhausted souls were weighing them down. Maybe it had taken so long because they had never properly grieved the other dead hostages, and Nichols' death had forced them to face their feelings. As the negativity faded, that minor discrepancy in overall morale became more obvious. Michelle wished her cell was closer to Blane's. One, because he was closer to the wall nearing the rest of the compound, and two, so she could better gauge whether her suspicions about him were correct.

“Look…” Banks finally said after what had felt like weeks of silence. “I know this looks pretty bleak, but we can’t just sit around and do nothing.”

“God, don’t you get it?” Blane called. “We’re not going anywhere. They’ve got their people and their mutts everywhere. We’re stuck here.”

Hearing Blane speak helped Michelle pinpoint the emotional source a little more. But still, there was a deeper feeling she could not uncover.

“Then the least we can do is try to collectively stay motivated because we can’t expect to push through the rituals if we’re feeling this miserable.”

“‘Push through’? For what?” Blane said gruffly. “What do you think they’ll do to the one of us that survives, huh? It’s a cult. They’re delusional. Who knows what their sick idea of a ‘gift’ is? I don’t blame Nichols for calling it quits-”

Michelle rolled her eyes. “It’s turning into a wolf. I’m pretty sure every wolf here is someone who made it through all of this and became a leader.”

“Bullshit.”

“Haven’t you read anything they gave you? The wolves are people. They're too intelligent to be wild wolves that they just enchanted somehow."

She heard him grouse and scoffed. Michelle sensed a growing curiosity within him as he secretly contemplated her words. It was a reminder that she needed to keep her guard up around him. She might not have the full picture yet, but she knew she could not trust him and that others seemed to share her belief.

“At this stage, I doubt anybody is going to find us. And escape obviously isn’t going to happen.” Michelle jutted her thumb towards the human guard at the end of the hall. “But the very least we can do is promise each other that whoever makes it out will make sure the government knows about this.”

The supervising leader let out a derisive laugh.

“That’s what they all say, that they’ll vow to destroy us if they make it.” She sneered. “But each and every time, they’re proven very wrong. They realise what a blessing it is to serve us.”

“Blessing?” Blane asked.

In the blink of an eye, the leader had moved from one end of the hall to the other, facing his cell. She transformed without any visible signs of pain or discomfort. It was effortless. It came as naturally to her as breathing. The oversized cloak she had been wearing was now a puddle on the floor. The grey wolf stood on its hind legs, pressing its paws on the cell bars and baring its teeth. From what Michelle could see, Blane backed away into the corner, and the wolf eventually retreated. She pushed the robe with her snout to where she had been standing. Within seconds, she was human again. The familiar, diminishing sense of fear returned to them, and nobody said a word after that. No matter how much they wanted to believe it, they had to accept they were not even halfway through the rituals and could not possibly know how they would feel by the end. As much as Michelle wanted to believe she held enough integrity to resist their temptation, with the power they had on their side, it was hard to convince herself. She wondered whether making it to the end was not just a desire to survive but a desire to thrive. Dying here without knowing if CTU would ever find her was a miserable thought, but surviving and actively choosing to stay with the cult made her feel ill.

They were taken from their cells for another ritual a few days later. The heavy hopelessness between them had not quite subsided, but the adrenaline and uncertainty soon overrode it. Again, to their mutual disappointment, they were not taken outside. Judging by the pallor of their skin, the leaders were perhaps used to it. Maybe there was a reason. There was no indication of what this ritual entailed, furthering her apprehension. There was nothing around the room, no fire, no urns, no other elements that could somewhat help her prepare. They weren't even restrained, just ordered to stand near the wall, as a wolf stood before each of them. Every time they did this, it made it more apparent how many people they had lost already. The room didn't feel as crowded as it used to.

Althea took her usual place in the centre. “I understand that many of you are still feeling… unsure of what we represent. It’s natural. After all, it’s not the life you’re used to. But I promise you, it will all be worth it for the one that survives. You’ll appreciate everything we’re doing for you one day.”

Michelle nervously darted her eyes around the room, trying to figure out what would happen, feeling a desperate need to try to ready herself as much as possible.

“This ritual should help you to take in a new perspective.”

In the middle of an already shallow inhale, Michelle gasped as she felt herself swept off her feet and slammed against the wall. She thought for a second that the wolf had shoved her there or pounced on her, but when she looked down, to her shock, her legs were dangling. Nobody was holding her. And yet, the more she struggled, the more resistance there was. Whatever force it was, it was powerful enough to suspend her in mid-air and keep her in contact with the rocky wall. The shards poked into her back sharply, irritating the sensitive scars immensely. The wolf barked at her from the ground, and Michelle knew that even if she did manage to lower her feet a little, the wolf would easily take care of what the force was aiming to do.

The force then travelled upwards and seized her neck tightly. It felt like someone was garrotting her, and she instinctively tried to remove the imaginary wire. She was able to lift her wrists slightly, but they were immediately pinned back down. However, as she looked around, her vision blurred by her tears, she realised that there was no weapon, no physical object keeping them all in place. Everybody flailed and groaned in pain, wildly attempting to overcome the force keeping them in place. Most of them were starting to turn quite blue, eyes practically bulging out of their sockets. Michelle realised that if they coordinated, they could probably lift one limb. But speaking was futile when she could hardly breathe. Glancing down, she saw Althea and the other human leaders chanting something under their breaths, likely the source of the invisible pressure all over her body.

Stars appeared around the edges of her vision, and light-headedness came over her. Every blink became longer and more pronounced. She was losing consciousness. For a moment, she contemplated no longer trying to fight the power holding her in place. She didn't want to give up but was also aware there were more rituals to come, and she didn't know if she could hold out anymore. However, something in her told her to try one last time. Taking in the deepest breath she could, she felt a slight jolt of energy, like she had snapped herself back into alertness. Michelle heard gasping all around her and watched the hostages wince and struggle to take in any more air. Her eyes landed on a DEA agent whose eyes had slipped shut, her body moving sluggishly. Michelle remembered the agent telling the others that this cult did not fit the profile of any other drug-powered cult she had seen in the past. She believed the only possible explanation for their experience was that they must have been administered a hallucinogen when they were captured and then topped up through their food. The agent had declared that if she got out and made it back to the DEA, this cult would be one of the biggest, most mysterious take-downs in history. Initially, Michelle had agreed with her theory, but as time passed, she found herself believing it less and less. Right now, as she fought for every intake of oxygen, Michelle did not question whether what she was experiencing was real. She knew in every part of her body that she was feeling the pain and emotions of the others, that there was something beyond nature at play.

Eventually, the woman stilled, and Michelle slid to the ground in one quick motion. Everybody groaned as they landed with a thud. A scar on her back burned in, but Michelle also felt aches in her joints. The DEA agent lay like a rag-doll on the floor, but somebody must have tried to use their hands to stabilise their fall because her wrist felt numb and hurt to move. Nothing seemed out of place as she gingerly tried to rotate it. But it seemed she would suffer the lack of mobility until the person who had actually broken their wrist healed. Michelle gasped hoarsely on all fours, watching as her tears fell to the ground. Obviously, the others were frantically trying to do the same thing because she suddenly felt sick and started dry heaving.

The leaders were kind enough to let them stabilise their breathing before taking them back to their cells. Now that Michelle felt physically better, she noted the new power within her. Her body felt far better than it should, a perk she still felt guilty about, given how it had happened. Michelle lied down, reflecting on her question about whether surviving would ever be worth it. She thought about where her mind had gone when she had truly believed she might die from asphyxiation. She had been tempted to surrender to the weakness consuming her body and end it. If she had wanted to die, she would have. The fact that she had tried one last time meant she still had the fight within her. Deep down, she wanted to stay alive. She clung to that belief desperately. It was all she had. While she did not want to be brainwashed, either, she would not let that stop her from surviving. No matter what the other leader had said, she still believed she could make it to the end and still maintain her current contempt towards the cult.

But the only way she would know for sure was if she survived.

Michelle started paying more attention to Blane’s energy. She was more adept at pinpointing who was feeling what now, and she figured focusing on her improving senses was a good distraction from the misery around her. His stubborn rebellion had turned down a notch since the leader had demonstrated her ability to turn. Now, he kept his mouth shut, barely speaking even to the hostages closest to his cell. But his feelings within remained the same. He was planning something. Michelle just didn’t know what. They were trapped in their cells, so she wasn’t too worried in the meantime, but she was convinced he would try something at the next ritual. Maybe he would make a run for it, but if it was as simple and understandable as wanting to escape, she would not have such a feeling of concern in her gut. It was hard not being able to talk about it, though. One, because there was no way to do so without Blane hearing, and two, she knew not everyone had the same kind of intuition or heightened senses she did. Or at least not to the same extent. Michelle wondered what that meant, that she was already gaining these abilities, and they were not even halfway through. It gave Michelle hope that maybe she would succeed and have a chance to take the cult down. She just prayed the power was controllable and did not consume her before she could achieve her task.

When the time came for another ritual, Michelle felt a sense of resolve emerge from Blane and kept her eyes fixed on him as they were led out of their cells. They moved slowly due to the aches in their bodies from the previous ritual, and they were nudged forward to speed up. Like last time, the room gave no real indication of what the leaders had planned for them. Seven pink crystals glowed softly in the middle, and the leaders instructed them to each stand behind one. Michelle was still so focused on Blane, the way he kept scanning the room, not with fear, but purpose. Michelle was so determined to figure out what he was up to that it startled her when Althea began to speak.

“You have done well so far in cleansing your souls, but now is the time to prepare your body to absorb more power.”

The crystals brightened, and Michelle found herself lost in thought as she stared at them.

“Only those with the potential to lead us will be capable of taking in this energy. The other will be sacrificed to aid the others in their journey.”

Michelle furrowed her brow as hairline cracks started to form on the crystal in front of her. She looked up at the others and then at their crystals, which were doing similarly. They also wobbled as though the earth beneath them was trembling. There was a loud bang, and each crystal shattered into large fragments. Or at least, she guessed that was what happened because she felt herself thrust against the wall and pinned in place, a wolf standing threateningly beneath her. It was similar to the previous ritual, except she felt excruciating pain at various sites on her body. It was hard to distinguish them at first, but when she craned her neck, she realised she was bleeding in various places. Each wound was a result of impalement by a shard of crystal. The others must have been stabbed in different spots because she felt sharp pangs in random locations on her skin as well. In particular, there was a lot of pain around her left shoulder.

The crystals started to burn and glow, and Michelle felt vitality course through her, not unlike when she had taken in the power of the people after the preceding rituals. It was very overwhelming, but at least it distracted her from the pain. She felt blood trickle down her arms into her left palm. The other palm had a particularly large piece of crystal straight through it. At least she was kept in place by the crystals, unlike last time when there had been discomfort from the friction of the wall on her sensitive back as she had fought the imaginary force. Michelle wondered what the end was going to be, whether someone would die from pain or if they would have to wait until someone bled out. She hoped it was the former but knew their mutual endurance had improved with every ritual, so she did not expect this to be over soon.

Someone cried out loudly, and Michelle’s wrist started to sear. Without even thinking, she looked over at Nielsen, a young paramedic. Michelle watched as she bent her wrist oddly to yank out a shard there. She laughed a little in glee. Then Michelle remembered the apparent wrist dislocation she had felt last time. It had not healed yet, and Nielsen used that to her advantage to gain mobility. One of the wolves was barking at her. But the human leaders paid it no mind, too busy chanting something as they faced each other, likely the source of the power transfer in her body from the crystals. Nielsen tried to remove other fragments piercing her body, carefully avoiding any around the lower body until she had enough range of motion to kick the wolf away to give her time. Michelle and the others tried to mimic her actions, finding that that little extra bit of flexibility in their wrist and collective reduction in pain made it surprisingly doable. However, some of them struggled more than others. Michelle found it especially agonising to pull out the one in her other palm.

Now, more of the wolves were barking, and she knew it was only a matter of time before the leaders decided enough was enough. Or maybe they wouldn’t. Maybe the ritual was just too important. Everybody was focused on alleviating their own pain. And there was still a one-to-one ratio of wolves to hostages. Teaming up and trying to escape would still be a challenge. There were more and more cries of relief amongst the wolves’ protests. But Michelle still felt the most irritation in her shoulder. When she looked around, she noticed the grimace on Banks’ face and that he had been stabbed in the shoulder of his old injury, the same side as the flexible wrist. She could sense a slight numbness trailing from shoulder to fingertips and recalled him saying it was nerve pain. It was more noticeable now that a lot of the other pain had disappeared. He had more shrapnel in him than anybody else. Each piece seemed to be placed in the least convenient locations for him to access. Michelle desperately tried to move faster so she could help him. By the end, she was barely flinching as she ripped out the pointy shards while trying to keep the guarding wolf at bay.

Just as she got to the ground, she saw Blane move out of the corner of her eye. Everybody else was occupied with fending off the wolves in front of them. Banks was the only one still suspended. Michelle watched as Blane strode over to where he was. At that moment, she knew that he wasn’t going to help Banks and went to make a break for it. But she only made it far enough to see Blane take one of the crystal shards from his body and slash Banks’ throat. 

“No!” She cried in horror, almost falling to her knees as another scar burned into her back.

Banks’ head hung forward, and the leaders stopped chanting, seemingly confused when they turned around. However, Michelle didn’t focus on that because she caught the wave of power coursing through her and used it to fuel her rage as she charged towards Blane. She realised she must have moved very fast because the wolf didn’t even have a chance to grab her as she shoved Blane against the wall, grabbing him by the collar.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” 

He looked at her indifferently. “He wasn’t going to survive anyway.”

She felt her rage rise to the surface. “You don’t know that. We could have worked together!”

Suddenly, he became as white as a sheet. Her grip on him was strengthening, and Michelle hadn’t even realised.

“Your… your eyes,” he breathed.

Someone grabbed her by the shoulder, and she found herself facing one of the human leaders. To her surprise, she wasn’t angry; she was almost in awe. The noise of the wolves snarling and leaders chattering disappeared. They were all staring at her now. Althea, in particular, seemed very intrigued by her. 

“She’s already showing the signs,” one leader whispered reverently.

Another leader stepped closer to her. “Nobody… nobody has shown them this early since… since...”

“Since my mother,” Althea finished, her voice heavy with reverence. 

Michelle still didn’t know what had happened. There wasn’t exactly a mirror around for her to look at herself. She couldn’t understand why she was more important than what Blane had done. Surely, the cult had some regulation about this. Despite their barbarism, they had an order to things. There were rules, which was admittedly the only thing she could respect. Banks had not lost the ritual fairly. Even if it had seemed he might fail, he had not had the chance to prove himself. She was still so angry. The silent gaping was frustrating her. She had never felt such a tangible emotion. It was like a blazing ball of fire in her body that she could feel moving around. It rose to her face, causing her cheek and jaw to twitch. Her scalp started to itch, too. Michelle felt a sudden desire to run, to release this build-up of energy, and dashed to the door of the ritual room. She didn’t even know where she was headed but managed to see more of the cult’s base than she had before. There were shouts and gasps, and eventually, Michelle found the stairwell that led outside.

The moon was full, and she could feel her cheekbones ache. There was a man outside, one she didn’t recognise. He looked just as shocked and afraid as Blane had been. She went to call out to him and demand help, but a growl came out when she opened her mouth. Michelle looked down at her hands, noticing her nails were longer and sharper. There was a blinding flash and the familiar click of a cell phone taking a photo. Before she could even process the fact that this might be her only chance of escape, she felt multiple sets of hands grab her from behind. 

“Come back here!” one of the leaders yelled out to the person, who was now running away.

She tried to fight the grip of the leaders, letting out another inhuman noise before feeling something sharp inject her neck. Everything started to go dark around her, and she became limp.

She woke up in her cell, no longer feeling angry. There had been quiet whispering, but it ceased as she opened her eyes fully. From what she could tell, a few people were staring at her. Blane, in particular, looked afraid. When she noticed Banks’ empty cell, she felt a heaviness in her chest and recalled the events that had led to her outburst. 

“What… what happened to me?” 

Nobody said anything for a minute, and then Chung cleared his throat and answered her question. “When Banks died, obviously your anger combined with the new power caused a certain… reaction in you.”

Michelle furrowed her brow.

“Your eyes were glowing, just like the leaders,” he clarified. “The bones on your face were moving. You moved so fast, they almost couldn’t keep up with you.”

He spoke with wonder but also seemed somewhat afraid of her. She could not blame him for that, she supposed. Michelle tried to think about what her apparent display of power might mean. But judging by the slight defeat she sensed from the others, it was likely a sign that she would make it to the end. Of course, that was not a guarantee. Maybe somebody else would show early signs, too. But she was more focused on how escape was no longer as futile as she had thought. If she could harness that power again, ideally when they were next released from their cells, maybe she could get herself back to civilisation. 

But this all assumed that Michelle could control her power. The possibility that she might not be capable of doing so terrified her more than anything.

There was a noticeable change in how people spoke to her after the ritual. This didn’t terribly bother her; she couldn’t exactly blame them. But it also didn’t bother her because she was too occupied with mourning Banks. He had died not because he hadn’t been strong enough to beat the ritual but because Blane had decided to take things into his own hands. She was admittedly satisfied that Blane, in particular, seemed scared of her now. The injustice was felt as a mutual anger and discomfort between them. The matter of his death aside, Banks had been the person she had become closest to during her capture, both physically due to the position of his cell relative to hers and emotionally. He had also been one of the few people she had trusted without question. Someone she had sensed to truly have no ulterior motives and remained faithful in his plan to find a way to escape. Michelle also realised that his determination was what she had held onto, the root of that tiny hope that they would make it out of here alive, that they could bring attention to this cult and their actions.

Michelle also found herself thinking more and more about what would happen if she did make it to the end. The brief power she had expressed had been so consuming of her mind, body, and spirit. It had been exhilarating and terrifying all at once. She wondered what signs might show themselves next, whether they were only triggered by anger or other strong emotions. Of course, she recognised that that power had come at the cost of six innocent lives. But she was unsure she would be able to keep that in mind when it resurfaced again. She was conflicted between wanting to try physically manifesting those traits again and making sure she remembered her focus and all the horrible things that had happened so far. She still needed to make sure the remaining hostages were on her side. The last thing she wanted was for them to think that she would do the cult’s bidding just because she happened to be showing the signs of a leader.

The leaders seemed to treat her a little nicer than usual when they ushered her out of her cell sometime later. They had never been totally careless with them. After all, they were all potential candidates for leading the cult. But now they were more patient and grabbed her with less force. Michelle tried not to appear pleased by it. No matter what she gained from this, she would not sell out. She would never use those powers for the purpose they wanted her to. She could sense some envy from the others. If she was in their position, she was sure she would be a little annoyed at the discrimination, too. Blane seemed particularly jealous. Maybe he had thought killing Banks would garner some respect from the leaders.

When they brought them into the familiar room, she noticed two things. First, a large urn containing a boiling liquid; its steam stung her eyes. Second, six large, circular stones, each coloured deep blue like the ocean with concentric light blue and white circles inside; an evil eye, if she was not mistaken. The leaders instructed her to sit in front of one of the stones. She chewed the inside of her cheek as she looked around at the others. Althea smiled at her as she walked past, which sent a chill down her spine. Michelle supposed Althea would be paying attention to see if she showed any more signs. There would not be special treatment or exclusion from the rituals; if anything, Althea was probably more eager for her engagement.

“Most of our rituals thus far have been designed to test you physically and make you prove your worthiness to lead us, but now we must evaluate your mental strength and ask whether you accept the future that fate has proposed for you.”

As Althea said this, the other leaders filled small vials with the liquid from the urn. They had pipettes like the saline eye drops she used for her allergies, which made her relatively certain where that liquid was about to go. Before she could ready herself, the leader behind her yanked her by the hair to pull her head back. People screamed in pain, and her eyes already felt like they were burning before the acid-like substance was applied to her own. Michelle instinctively squeezed her eyes shut, rolling her shoulders and hunching forward. Some kind of cloth was wrapped around her head and fastened tightly. As she tried her hardest to blink the liquid out, the fabric scratched against the sensitive sclera of her eyes.

The awful sensation quickly faded, as did the sounds of people suffering and leaders chanting. When Michelle opened her eyes again, she was standing in a forest. All was quiet. Something felt off. She knew she was hallucinating. But the perspective of everything seemed… taller. Like she had shrunk somehow. Michelle tried to move and soon became aware she was moving with four limbs, not two. She gasped as she saw the dark, furry paw extend in front of her. Michelle whipped her head around, trying to get a better look at herself. She saw a dark brown tail swinging from side to side. Althea’s preface came to mind now. Specifically, the part about seeing the future that fate had proposed for them. Which meant only one thing: she was going to make it to the end.

But if that was the case, then where were the other cult members? If she survived every ritual, she would have become a leader. There were no other buildings in sight. She didn’t think she was guarding anything or doing any kind of task for them. As she tried to gain more information about her vision, she realised someone was calling her name. It was distant, but she recognised it. Her heart leapt in her chest as she registered that it wasn’t one of the leaders. They called again, more worried. Michelle opened her mouth to respond and was shocked by the full-bodied, powerful howl she let out. The back-and-forth continued, and the responses became louder every time. She eventually pinpointed the direction it was coming from and ran towards it. The wind bristled through her fur, and she was amazed at how fast and agile she was. But it was not an artificial high like she had taken a stimulant. It was natural. It was like she had been this way her entire life.

As soon as her eyes locked onto Tony’s, she felt tears prick her eyes at the relief and joy in his expression. Michelle continued towards him, and he outstretched his arms. But as she made contact with him, everything disappeared. Her back suddenly ached terribly, and she became cognisant of the scars there. The stenches of fire, blood, and musk in the ritual room assaulted her senses. She heard various grumbles and chants and saw people rubbing their eyes as her blindfold was removed. As soon as she had seen Tony, her slight awareness that it had been nothing but a figment of her mind had gone. Michelle panted, realising just how much the brief euphoria had consumed her. It had felt so real. She missed him. God, she missed him so much.

All of the evil-eye-like stones were glowing except for one. Michelle sighed as she looked over to find that one person had collapsed. Blood flowed from beneath her blindfold. Jiminez was a police sergeant, but from a different division to Banks. They were the only two people who had vaguely known each other before being taken to the cult’s base. Based on how everybody was feeling, however, not only were they so numbed by the deaths of the rituals by this point, but clearly, whatever people had seen in their vision was still their main focus. She wondered what they had seen. Was she the only one who had seen herself as a wolf? Given the signs she -- and only she -- had shown, it would make sense. But why bother with the remainder of the rituals if they already knew who was worthy? Their expressions were unreadable. Michelle thought further, and it dawned on her that the other hostages might have seen themselves die in their visions. She didn’t want to get ahead of herself. This might have been what fate had apparently proposed for them, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t change.

She also wondered if the leaders knew what they had seen. Maybe they had conjured the images for them or been able to see what they had. But if the leaders had any inkling of their visions, they did not show it. Instead, they took them back to their cells. Her eyes were still sore. Even blinking hurt due to the friction of her eyelid. Still, it wasn’t the worst thing they’d been put through physically. The extra power helped, too. She remembered when Althea had said the rituals would get progressively more difficult. She certainly believed that. The earlier rituals had really just been torture for the body. But now, incorporating prophetic visions or other mental elements would be a challenge. It was messing with her head. Not knowing the extent to believe what Althea told them. If she took it all as true, she was a fool, a puppet, playing right into their hands and in a position to be manipulated. However, if she resisted or denied it, she would only make things harder for herself. They were far beyond the point of making do until they were rescued. This was all that was left now. She had made peace with dying here, but now that peace was disturbed by what she had seen. The vision, combined with the physical effects of the last ritual, convinced her that she was stronger than she thought.

“What did you guys see?” Chung asked, breaking her train of thought. “I’m not quite sure where I was. But it was dark, and I was bleeding. The ritual room, probably.”

“Althea was torturing me. She was standing over me, and I thought my chest was going to explode,” Nielsen said.

“I had chest pain as well,” Blane replied. “Althea wasn’t there, I don’t think. But I saw a lot of wolves.”

“I… I felt paralysed. Like I wasn’t going to wake up. I’m surprised I did.” Sami, a navy pilot, added. “Makes me wonder what Jiminez saw that killed her.”

They continued to describe their visions in more detail, making Michelle feel a horrible sinking feeling in her gut as her suspicions were confirmed. It was hard to be happy about knowing she would survive when it meant the deaths of people she had spent several months with.

“Michelle, what about you?”

She felt their eyes bore into her.

“I, uh, I saw my husband.” Michelle cleared her throat. “I was in the forest by myself. I heard him call my name, and… he was there.”

A few people muttered. The general consensus was not particularly happy. She could already feel some resentment from them. Resentment, which had been building since the end of the last ritual when Banks was killed. They could likely also sense that she was withholding information, but she was too tired to try to mask the feeling. As she tried to sleep, she replayed the vision over and over again to try to hold it in her memory. If this was really her future, if this was really something that was going to happen, then it meant that, at some point, the cult would be defeated. Becoming the wolf was the only way out. The only way she could muster the strength to face them. The only thing that would make them drop their guard since they seemed fixed on the idea that she would serve them.

So Michelle knew now that this was not about survival anymore.

This was about taking Chrismos Lukos down.

As Michelle became more resolute, the other hostages became more detached. It was understandable. They were coming to terms with the fact that it was very likely, if not certain, that Michelle would make it to the end. It was no longer a matter of if but when they would perish. Some were still in denial, now more determined than ever to stick it out through the coming rituals to prove fate wrong. If it was the other way around, she imagined she would be stubborn enough to do the same. But the others lacked motivation and directed a lot of bitter resentment her way. She could not fault them for that, either. After spending so much time together, after all the suffering they had endured, to think they would meet the same fate was crushing. But Michelle had gotten so used to trying to protect herself from feeling every emotion that passed through her body, so it was not terribly difficult to block out their anger and negativity towards her.

Of course, that also meant now she felt lonelier than ever.

With fewer hostages and more hostility, silence was common. Chung usually tried to keep morale up, but even he had his limits. He also notably seemed the least upset about what fate had apparently predicted for them. Maybe he had simply accepted that he was going to die here a long time ago and was also adept at resisting sharing the anger around. Still, it was hard. Michelle had no choice but to mentally strategise what would happen once she passed the final ritual while trying not to indicate with her emotions that she was conspiring against them. She would never intentionally go out of her way to hurt anybody. But she was not convinced that was true in reverse. In particular, she found herself surveilling Blane’s emotions again. There was no doubt that ambition drove his every move. He killed Banks in cold blood. There was no line he would not cross. And that was part of why she had to ensure she came out on top here. If this cult was under the leadership of someone like Blane, someone impressionable, someone who believed that the ends justified the means, then she shuddered to think of what the cult could evolve into, given the already brutal nature of the rituals.

Michelle lay in bed, watching the shadows of the candlelight on the ceiling. A few people muttered around her. If she cared enough to eavesdrop, she probably could try. But she was too exhausted and, frankly, did not care anymore. The leaders could still try to radicalise her since they knew she was showing signs. She had to be alert for that. And it wasn’t like the other hostages could kill her or hurt her while they were locked in their cells. As usual, she was unsure of the time or how many weeks had passed since the last ritual. But Michelle had the feeling, either intuitively or based on her past experiences, that another one would begin soon.

Her ears perked up at the sound of wind chimes and footsteps. The leaders were coming in. But, to her confusion, they made no move to unlock the doors of their cells. She knew Althea was there. There was something so significant about her presence; it made it easy for Michelle to tell when she was near. Were they going to have some kind of ritual inside their cells?

“You’ve seen a glimpse of your fates,” Althea stated. “And while it may have given you insight into the glory and power that comes from leading Chrismos Lukos, you also need to know that serving us will push every boundary you have. One must be brave, determined, ruthless in order to be worthy of leading us. So, now, take a glimpse of what may be your worst nightmare and see if you can accept it.”

Michelle felt herself and the other hostages enter the usual fight-or-flight mode they did when the rituals started. There were no weapons or tools in sight. The leaders didn’t seem to come too close to their cells. Whatever they were going to do, it was likely going to involve some kind of invisible force, like the time they were strangled.  She sat up in the cot before swinging her legs and resting her feet on the ground to get a better view of what was happening. One of the leaders stepped forward, holding what looked like an incense burner. He lifted the hinge of it slightly, and it made a clinking sound, which she realised was what she had heard before. Smoke started to pour out, and the smell was immediately apparent. It was incredibly strong but not unpleasant. The scent was sweet and herbal, immediately making her head feel foggy. She was vaguely reminded of when she was in the van during her capture. So, she began to panic when she remembered that the next thing that happened was her passing out. If she passed out now, there was no way of knowing what they would do to her.

She attempted to resist the heady sensation, gently pressing her shirt against her back to let the pain of the scars keep her roused. The person holding the incense walked right past the bars of her cell, and she coughed as the smoke blurred her vision. Michelle frantically pulled her shirt to cover her nose and mouth, but judging by the throb of her head, she was too late. Her hand fell to the mattress to stabilise her body. Her eyelids were heavy. She went to plant her hand more firmly but suddenly felt like she was moving underwater. Michelle landed on her side with a soft thud, briefly aggravating the skin on her back. But numbness consumed her before the discomfort could bother her.

It was reasonably quiet, seeing as the other hostages were also starting to lose consciousness. But Michelle soon jolted awake at the sound of a man screaming. The noise would have surprised her in any case, but she was particularly startled by the familiarity of the voice. She was so focused on it that she didn’t even process how she’d somehow moved from her cell to the ritual room. The smells and noises were familiar. If she wasn’t mistaken, this was one of the earlier rituals. The one where they’d been administered the burning bloody liquid. Michelle found herself unable to move. It was like she was totally paralysed. One of the leaders, whom she didn’t recognise, stood over the screaming person and poured the mixture into their mouth. She instantly recognised the scars branded on his arms and back. Michelle gasped when the leader shifted slightly, revealing that Tony was being hurt, as she suspected.

Desperate to protect him, she leapt forward, breaking through whatever force had kept her still. Michelle grabbed the shoulder of the leader holding the urn, forcing them to turn towards her. She felt her heart stop when she found her own face staring back at her, with glowing eyes the colour of amber and a wicked, fanged grin.

“No…” she whispered.

The other version of her sneered. “Yes.”

“This… this isn’t right.”

She turned back to Tony and proceeded to hurt him again. Dream or not, she could not stand to watch him suffer anymore, especially knowing the pain he was experiencing all too well. More than that, she could not stand to watch him be hurt by her hand. Michelle now questioned everything from her prior vision. She had been deluded. Brainwashed. Played right into their hands. There was no way she could expect to get to the end without them corrupting her. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe she still needed to focus on escaping and that this had been some planned distraction to rope her in. Althea had said they would have to face their nightmares, and Michelle did not doubt that this was it. The thought of serving the cult horrified her, but the thought of Tony being hurt as a result hurt her more. That did not mean this was fate, though. She could still resist this. She was not going to let this consume her. The fact that she was aware enough to despise what she saw and wanted to change it was a sign that her destiny was not yet sealed.

“No. This isn’t real. This is never going to happen. I would never do this.”

Tony cried out in pain, and Michelle tried to pull the woman away from him, but she wasn’t strong enough.

“Oh, but you haven’t even gotten all the power yet,” the other version of her said as she continued to torture him. “You don’t know how good this feels. You haven’t realised yet that this is the right thing, that you were born to do this. You don’t need to leave…” Tony’s terrified eyes met hers. Michelle saw blood and burns covering his bare skin. “We can bring him here. We can make him a part of this.”

“I will never be a part of this,” Michelle gritted through her teeth, letting her anger give her strength.

Whether this was a dream, a hallucination or something in between, it did not matter. Michelle knew she needed to get out of it. The longer she stayed here, the more she risked being sucked in further. There was no telling what was physically happening to her body right now. Watching Tony endure what she had was painful enough. But the thought of losing now and not having the chance to prove this version of her, this prophecy, wrong, made her channel the fury she had been holding ever since Banks died. Michelle noticed a knife amongst an array of sacrificial items. None of this was real. She could stop this now.

“You can say that all you want, but fate has chosen this for you. You are destined to rule Chrismos Lukos.”

She grabbed the knife.

“You just need to stop resisting this part of yourself. You already know you’re going to make it to the end.”

Michelle pushed the other version of her against the wall in one swift motion. She met her own eyes. “Fate might have chosen this for me, but I’m still doing this on my terms.”

She heard herself scream, and despite watching the knife drive into her chest, she felt a familiar scalding pain in her back as she found herself lying in the cell cot again. Michelle got up slowly but with as much urgency as she could muster to see who had survived. She felt great fear within her as the others still woke up from their own nightmares. With the cells of the remaining hostages so distant, it was hard to tell who was left.

“Sami… Sami!” Chung called.

He continued to call his name, but judging by the lack of response, it was clear Sami had not survived. Michelle knew he was a US Marshal and had a family with young children. If it had hurt her so much to think of Tony being brought in and subjected to the rituals, she could not imagine what it would be like to watch your spouse and children being hurt by your own hand. Of course, that assumed everyone had experienced the same ritual of watching themselves as leaders. Somehow, she doubted that. Maybe Althea had been the torturer in their dreams. Or maybe... she had. But seeing as everybody was so judgemental last time, she was not about to ask for further details on what people had seen.

The leaders took his body and left. Michelle found herself too wired to try to sleep. But even though she laid down to try and rest her body, every time she shut her eyes, she heard Tony’s screams again and saw the images of her hurting him.

“You just need to stop resisting this part of yourself.”

It had been a dream. A horrible, drug-induced dream. But that didn’t mean it lacked truth. After all, weren’t dreams usually designed to bring attention to things you’d been pushing down? Or maybe this was designed to deter her from aiming to make it to the end but still maintain her integrity. Still, it frightened her more than anything. She’d worried about dying in the rituals. She’d worried about being manipulated by the cult leaders if she survived. She’d worried about being targeted by the other hostages as it became more and more likely that she would, in fact, come out victorious here — if one could call it that. But worrying about the existence of such darkness within her was something she’d never had to do now.

So, Michelle realised that if the version of her she had seen was truly some deeply buried part of herself, then she had to do everything in her power to make sure it never entered her consciousness.

Throughout her capture, Michelle had found the most productive way to stay focused between rituals was to mindfully track the changes in her body. She believed she had mastered the ability to distinguish where the different pain in her body came from. She knew if it was from herself or somebody else. She could hone in on the particular body part, if the pain was physical, or the underlying memory, if the pain was emotional. Now more than ever, she knew who she could trust and who no longer cared about the solidarity the twelve of them had once had. Michelle had also tested the limits of her heightened senses and other newfound strength. She knew she was recovering faster from the rituals even though, with fewer hostages remaining, their emotions were much more intensely felt. 

However, this time, Michelle was too occupied with the disconcertment of the horrific visions from the last ritual to further that exploration.

Michelle had had her fair share of nightmares during her time here. Every ritual had created its own memories so traumatic that even the mere act of recalling them caused her entire body to react. The final moments of the eight deceased hostages also haunted her. Their screams, the look of defeat in their eyes, their still bodies. By now, she had worked through most of her guilt. But some part of her still believed she should have tried harder to escape at the beginning when there were more people and a little more hope since, maybe if she had, there would be fewer people to mourn. The feeling was mostly mutual; the people here were united, not only by the circumstances but also by their sense of duty, something she did not need intuition to know. It was clear they had been chosen for a reason. 

But while the intensity of these memories had somewhat faded over time, Michelle was convinced that what she had seen in that drug-induced nightmare, the visceral image of her doing exactly what she had tried her hardest to prevent, what she had promised herself she would never become, was something she could not shake. It made her question everything she had ever known about herself. It took away what little control over this situation she thought she had. It made her despise herself for the iota of pride she had felt for making it this far, for not giving up. She started to wonder whether she was truly rebelling against the cult as she had intended or simply letting herself be sucked in by their delusions. Was the vision of her serving the cult designed to scare her off or draw her in? 

Even when Michelle did try to tell herself that she was strong enough to defy them and escape, when she tried to picture reuniting with Tony, not dissimilar from how she had done so in the much more pleasant hallucination earlier, she was met with a sense of shame. She was going to have to explain everything. If she fled the cult and had nothing to show for it other than a set of scars, would he believe her? Would he think she was one of them? It was going to sound ludicrous. He was going to think she was crazy. If she escaped the cult after learning to transform into a wolf, while that would provide a little more proof, it was still going to terrify him. How was he going to look at her the same again? No matter how much he loved her, if she was going to be some deranged vicious animal, then he had every right to keep himself safe. She tried to think about what she would do if the roles were reversed, but the truth was, she could not fathom it. Her experience had taken every belief she had held about the way the world worked and turned it on its head.

“Michelle?” a voice called.

She had been in such a dissociative state these last few weeks that her usual anxiety and need to maintain awareness of her surroundings at all times had faded. When she turned to see Chung’s face faintly illuminated by the candlelight, there was a soft smile as though he had been trying to get her attention for some time. He also looked concerned for her. Michelle had tried to shield her emotions from being detected by the others, but there was only so much she could hide when they were linked.

“Are you alright?”

Michelle lifted a shoulder. When she opened her mouth, the words died in her throat. She couldn’t remember the last time she had spoken. She huffed.

“I’m fine,” she finally said, a little too short for her liking.

He didn’t reply straight away, and Michelle went to crawl back into bed, not wanting to take her emotions out on anybody else. 

“It was the last ritual, wasn’t it?”

She paused.

“I don’t think anybody wants to talk about it, but whatever you saw, I can tell it’s really gotten to you. More than any of the other rituals and more than anybody else here.”

Clearly, Chung’s emotional intuition was just as sharp as hers. Still, she wasn’t about to bring it up. She wasn’t going to let herself be put in a position of judgement by everyone else; there was enough resentment towards her already.

“You don’t need to hear about it,” she said dismissively.

“Well, whatever it was, it wasn’t real.” He sighed. “You didn’t deserve to have to see it any more than the rest of us. Even if… even if this prophecy is all true, even if you are going to make it out alive, that doesn’t make you a bad person. You didn’t choose this. You haven’t hurt anybody here. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

Michelle faced him again, sensing the conviction in his chest. Maybe she did have someone on her side left after all. “Thanks,” she said hoarsely, “I needed to hear that.”

Over the next few days, she regained some of the fight within her. She reminded herself of how far she had come, of the fact that she was still alive, still breathing. She let herself feel hopeful again. She believed something good had to come out of all of this, that she would make sure it would. By the time Althea and the other leaders came to drag her out of her cell, she felt present enough to maintain her defiant stance against the leaders, to let them know she would never join them, no matter what they told her or showed her. She noticed that one of the leaders was carrying what looked like a very long rope ladder. Another one held a large urn, the same one from the other rituals.

Michelle was relieved when they passed the ritual room and proceeded to the staircase that led outside. She hadn’t been outside since the ritual where they were buried. She hadn’t breathed in fresh air, seen the sky, or even experienced a change in temperature since the cult basement was so humid. But she soon reminded herself that she had to prepare herself emotionally, physically, and spiritually for another ritual. The trek was further than last time. They walked over a stretch of uneven ground. Michelle wondered if it was the field where their temporary graves had resided. It had been so long, so she doubted any trace of the sites was left. There was a cool breeze as they crossed a small wooden bridge that passed over the river she had bathed in last time. Her feet started to ache as they moved into a large forest. Blane asked where they were going but was met with angry, authoritative snarls from the wolves.

Light from the full moon beamed down on them, and she realised it was the brightest thing she had seen in a very long time. Still, she was in no state to appreciate it, as she was too busy trying to look for any monuments or features that could give her a clue as to where she was. But to her dismay, it all seemed to look the same. Wherever they were, they were too far away from any metropolitan areas. Eventually, they emerged from the forest and were ordered to stop in front of a huge pit. Michelle gulped as she looked down to see how deep it was. There was also a low growling sound. It wasn’t from the wolves standing near her. 

Althea’s glowing eyes illuminated her menacing smile. 

“Before you can channel the wolf physically, you must have a sufficient connection with the wolf spiritually.” 

The leader who had held the ladder was now lowering it into the pit, ensuring the top was secure.

“It’s not enough for you to be connected with us. You need to understand the evolution of our members. You need to understand where we’ve come from,” she said reverently. “The pack of wolves below are the remaining original leaders of Chrismos Lukos. They formed the very rituals you have been privileged enough to participate in. And as they devised them, they chose to give up their human form in favour of becoming one with the wolves completely.”

Michelle yelped at the feeling of something cold, wet, and sticky suddenly coating her skin. Others did similarly, and the pungent smell indicated to her it was blood. She shivered a little, blinking rapidly to stop her eyes from stinging.

“So, you will be given an opportunity to prove yourself worthy to them. If they accept you, you should have no problem leaving their den. But one of you will not be deemed worthy of leading and become another sacrifice for the greater good.”

One by one, they were led down the rope ladder. The blood on their hands made it hard to grip the rungs securely, in addition to the fact that they were shaking from fear and the cold. Once the four of them were down, the ladder was removed. Michelle slowly walked towards the centre of the pit, hearing the heavy breathing of the people around her. A handful of pairs of glowing eyes appeared in the darkness. Some were amber or golden like Althea, others were blue or green. Her vision adjusted slightly, and she made out the silhouettes of the wolves better. The four of them were silent, clearly trying to prevent aggravating the wolves. Despite the stench of the blood, the wolves did not seem interested in pouncing on her. Perhaps that was part of the test, and the person who was unworthy would be ripped to shreds, a thought that made her feel ill. The frontmost wolf barked, turning towards the other pack members and motioning with its head. There was still a humanlike quality to the mannerisms of the wolves, just like the other cult members, but it was more subtle here. It was like only a trace of humanity left was left in them. When she thought about it, it made sense. To spend years, decades likely, in a non-human form would surely change how you perceived yourself.

The wolves walked towards each of them in pairs, and Michelle tried not to jump as one of them nuzzled and sniffed her. It was easier than she thought it would be. Michelle held her breath and remained still, but to her relief, they didn’t seem too wary of her, nor were they stimulated by the blood. Michelle initially thought she had just gauged this from observation, but as she relaxed, she realised she could sense them just as she could sense Blane, Nielsen, and Chung. She allowed herself to relax and looked over at the others. To nobody’s surprise, the wolves seemed more comfortable with her than anybody else. But there was no hostility from the other wolves. Even Blane, who clearly looked afraid, had not upset them. At this stage of the process, it was logical that they would all be capable of forming a strong enough connection that overrode the natural instinct of the wolves to engage them because of the blood.

On her way down, she had eyed a section of the pit’s walls with decent points to act as hand- and foot-holds. As soon as the wolves moved away, she would slowly make her way over and try to climb up. But she wasn’t going to rush and give them any reason to think she was scared of them. Because the truth was, she wasn’t. Yes, it was cold, and the blood on her skin felt unpleasant, to say the least, but the actual presence of the wolves didn’t make her uncomfortable. Nobody, besides Blane, seemed to feel as afraid as they might have been in the early days of their capture. Maybe it wasn’t a bad thing. She wasn’t condoning any of their actions. She wasn’t about to join them. But she couldn’t deny the connection there and that it was something to respect. It further affirmed that all the changes in her body and mind over time were very real. In a dark, empty cell, it was not always easy to feel that with confidence when it was also easy to justify it all as delusion.

When the wolves retreated, one of them made direct eye contact with her. It felt like she could see right into their soul, and they could see into hers. It was very vulnerable to be perceived like this, but she was not afraid to let her guard down. If they had rejected her and intended to hurt her, they would have acted on it by now. She was not even compelled to check on the other hostages. She felt this moment was very sacred and that she should be wholly present. The pair of wolves then both bowed down to her. Michelle was utterly floored. She did not just sense acceptance from them; they saw her as their equal, as someone worthy of leadership. It had been a long time since she had felt this empowered. She bowed in return, still aware she did not want to risk offending them by jumping the gun.

Michelle was so taken aback by the gesture that she didn’t even realise Chung and Nielsen had gone until she looked beside her. Somehow, she doubted they had had that moment of affinity with their wolves if they were long gone. She turned to see two silhouettes scaling the rocky ledge. Blane cursed, and she noticed that his two wolves were not keen to move back from him any time soon. They still seemed to be assessing his character, and based on his reaction, he wasn’t doing too well. Michelle looked down at the wolves before her one last time.

“Thank you,” she said genuinely.

As she started to walk towards the cliff, Blane yelled out to her. Against her better judgement, she paused and looked over her shoulder.

“You can’t just leave me here!”

Her eyes widened as he started to push the wolves away. They snarled, resisting his defences, but he didn’t get the hint. Michelle said nothing and continued to walk towards where Chung and Nielsen were climbing over the top back onto higher ground. He called out, terrified and angry. The growls suddenly sounded much louder and more resonant. Michelle peered over her shoulder briefly but long enough to notice the dozens of pairs of glowing almond shapes in the darkness. The pack charged out of their haven in all directions. Some of them went towards Blane, but plenty went towards her, and she bolted. She hadn’t moved this much in months. She was almost shocked by how fast her body could move and how she wasn’t getting puffed out despite the considerable distance to the wall. Some of it was pure adrenaline, but the fact that she could still channel this much strength despite having spent what she estimated was over a year in captivity and sedentary, at that, reminded her of the power she had fostered within. 

Michelle could see Chung extend a hand over the top of the cliff as she started to climb. The barks of the wolves grew closer and closer. The lantern from one of the leaders improved her vision and allowed her to see the ridges she could grab. Michelle tried to move faster and build momentum but slipped as she mistakenly tried to grasp a partially broken-off chunk of rock. The friction between the rough gravel and her dry skin made her wince in pain. She panicked when she felt something nudge the sole of her foot, realising the wolves must have caught up with her. But she was relieved to realise that it was actually her two wolves trying to help her up. The fact that she could recognise them amongst the growing hoard was also surprising, but she wasn’t thinking about that right now. Michelle managed to stabilise herself, but as she craned her neck towards the top of the cliff, she realised how much progress she had lost.

Still, her determination kept her going. She wasn’t going to let Blane’s arrogance stop her, not after she’d just proven herself worthy. If the wolves weren’t going to accept him, that was something between him and them. She had nothing to do with this. Michelle could feel the air moving around her skin as the snapping jaws of the wolves tried to bite her. Blane was screaming now, but she tried her best to ignore him and keep climbing. It was difficult to hear someone in need but actively choosing nothing about it. At the same time, there wasn’t anything she could do here without putting herself at risk. And the situation Blane was in was, for the most part, self-inflicted. Just as she went to grab Chung’s hand, something tugged her ankle. She tried to kick them away, initially thinking it was one of the other wolves.

But when she looked down, she realised it was none other than Blane. He had climbed up faster than she had thought.

“Michelle, please!” he cried, the weight of his body threatening to pull her down with him. 

She could sense that he was begging her with everything he had. Anybody in his situation surely would. But she considered whether things would be the same if they were the other way around. Michelle could help him now, but that would not stop him from eliminating her or any of the others, just like he had done to Banks. This was the same kind of scenario. The four of them could all survive, but Blane’s ambition would get in the way of that once again. As she tried to visualise the possibility, she realised she must have somehow projected this onto him because his eyes widened. An incredible feeling of guilt emerged from him. Not as though he felt remorseful of what he had done, but because she had caught on to him. A vision flashed into her mind. She could see Blane pushing her off the cliff as soon as she helped him up. The fact that she could see it so clearly meant there was no doubt it was true. It was not a possibility; it was a prophecy.

His nails dug into her skin, desperately clinging to her. He wasn’t going to be able to hold on much longer. If she was going to save him, it was now or never. She would have to risk falling and reach down to pull him up by the wrist. Michelle was reminded of that day in the Chandler Plaza Hotel. Specifically, the moment she had been forced to take an innocent life. She had thought about that moment often in the first few months of her capture, wondering whether she could have done things differently, whether if she had aimed for his shoulder or his calf, then maybe he would not have died by her hand, even if the virus would have killed him later. That day felt like a lifetime ago at this point. But she supposed she was living a different life now. She was not the same person she was all that time ago. She was braver and stronger now, more than she had ever thought she was capable of.

What made Michelle know she had changed irrevocably was that as she watched Blane fall into the pit of angry wolves, she did not feel a shred of sorrow.

There was an immediate change in Chung and Nielsen’s attitudes towards her as they helped her up. Michelle didn’t need intuition to know it was a combination of anger and disgust. Her left shoulder blade ached more than a fresh scar usually would. There was a very intense fury she could feel this time. They were permitted to wash the blood off them in the river before they returned to their cells. Neither of them looked at her or said anything, perhaps not wanting to risk annoying Althea and losing their chance to bathe. But she was sure they would when they got back.

Michelle had no regrets about what she had done. In that situation, it had been do or die. Blane would have killed her. That had not been speculation; she had seen a glimpse of it and felt his guilt. She had not wanted to die for nothing or as a result of his blind ambition. But she could also understand why the others had not seen it that way. Michelle doubted they had sensed the flicker of guilt she had; she reasoned it had been because she and Blane had been in direct contact with each other at the time. More than that, even if they believed her claim that he would have hurt them and taken advantage of their vulnerable position, she had still crossed a line. She had let someone die. He had not died because of the ritual — even though arguably the pack of wolves hunting them down had been his fault. He had died because of her.

To her surprise, the silence remained as they went to bed. But so did the tension in her chest. They were angry at her to the point where they thought she was not in the right headspace to reason with. For two days, she oscillated between two beliefs. Her primary belief was that she was right, that the two of them were hypocritical and would have done the same in her position. Her other belief was that she was further gone than she realised and was deluding herself into justifying every action she took because it would mean getting a chance to take down the cult herself. Did she have a hero complex? Was she doing this for her own selfish reasons? To be known as the agent who took down Chrismos Lukos? She just wanted to take them down so they could stop hurting people. With the number of leaders there, and God knows how many others in different states and countries, multiplied by twelve, she could not bear the thought of how many families had lost people because of this cult. The heaviness of that made her sick. But it also confirmed to her that her action had been necessary. She would not arrogantly believe she was the only one who could do it; Chung or Nielsen didn’t seem excited by the idea of ruling the cult, either. But, at this stage, she was statistically the most likely to succeed, and she had to use that. Sure, Blane was gone now, so Michelle was no longer fearful that she would be betrayed by one of the other hostages. But after enduring so much, she was not going to let go. She would let the chips fall. She would not try to interfere with fate. She did not want to hurt anyone. That was the whole point.

But if she didn’t make that clear now, then there was no reason that they wouldn’t conspire to hurt her, in fear that she was planning to do the same. Even if they could sense her — and, at this stage, she didn’t doubt that — she knew they didn’t trust her nearly as much as they used to and likely suspected that she was masking her true intentions, the way Blane had tried to.

“Enough,” Michelle finally said, sitting up after concluding trying to sleep was pointless. “We need to talk.”

Nielsen scoffed. “About what? You killed Blane. There’s nothing to say-”

“I didn’t kill him-” she protested.

“He was begging you to help him, and you left him to the wolves. Literally.”

Michelle shook her head, squinting a little so she could attempt to make eye contact with her in the dark. “Do you not think he would have done the same to me if our positions had been reversed? He would have done that to any of us, and you know it.”

“Yeah, but that’s the point,” Nielsen replied. “I expect him to sink that low, not you.”

“Who are you to judge my decision? You do realise that he put himself in that position in the first place, right?” Michelle pointed out. “The wolves accepted me, not him. He bolted before the test was over, and that’s why-”

“God, do you hear yourself? You’re no better than them, Michelle,” she said coldly. “You just watch. You’re not going to follow through on any of your bullshit ideals. You’re going to lap it up and be Althea’s little bitch-”

The room lightened, and Michelle realised it was because her eyes were glowing.

“Hey!” Chung said. “Enough. Both of you. Look, Michelle, I don’t exactly agree with what you did either.” He met her eyes. “But as far as I know, I’m glad Blane’s not going to make it because the leaders don’t need to have someone as greedy as him on their side. We still have to stick together.”

For a moment, the only sound was their collective heavy breathing. Nielsen was still angry at her. Chung seemed frustrated more than anything. However, it didn’t seem entirely directed at her. He was right. They did need to stick together. Their chances of escape were long gone, but they had to see this through. They couldn’t afford to let this tension distract them from being united against the people keeping them here. The following days still passed with tension, mostly from Nielsen, although it was somewhat reduced. She didn’t speak to her. Chung tried a few more attempts at general conversation but soon gave up, too.

They were brought to the main ritual room and made to sit. There were multiple candles lit, plus a large fire. It was more light than Michelle had seen in a long time. Combined with the smoke in a non-ventilated room, it made her eyes water. She had not seen the sun in over a year. She had only been outside three times, all at night, so something this bright was almost overwhelming. As Michelle glanced at her skin, she could see how pale she looked, the blue of her veins more visible than she had ever seen them. In the light, she could also see Nielsen glaring at her. Michelle also sensed fear from her. Nielsen was wondering whether she was up to something, which clearly meant she lacked the degree of intuition that she and Chung had because she was not planning anything of the sort and should know that. Three vials were placed around the fire. The liquid inside each one was the colour of onyx. It seemed oddly simple for the tenth ritual. But she was not about to underestimate this. She was not about to underestimate Althea.

“By now, you’ve had enough time to decide your intentions about leading us,” Althea said, looking between the three of them. “Of course, only one of you can fulfil them. But the Ritual of Confession will eliminate the person whose heart is not aligned with our ways.”

Three other leaders took the vials and drew the liquid into syringes. As Michelle went to take her next breath, she winced as one arm wrapped around her upper body while the other injected the syringe into her chest through the thin fabric of her cloak. She felt three sharp pangs in succession but then watched with shock as every vein and artery on their bodies became visible and darkened to the colour of the liquid. It spread from their hearts to their limbs like the roots of a tree. Michelle became hyperaware of her heart rate and watched the slight rhythmic pulse as blood pumped around her body. She looked down at her wrist, almost mesmerised by the sight. It made her aware of just how many tiny pathways ran through her body. Finally, the black spidery veins extended to their faces.

Michelle was so distracted by the sight that she did not realise the leader near her had not moved away until she felt her seize her by the wrist so she could slice her palm open. Her blood poured into the vial that the black liquid had been in previously. Each of the three leaders passed the vial to Althea, who drank from them, uttering something under her breath. Michelle wondered if this was simply part of some tradition or for somehow connecting her to them. The latter made her shudder.

“Chrismos Lukos values honesty. Authenticity. Dedication. Courage. So, we’re going to ask you some questions to help us figure out whether you can uphold those values. If you withhold information…” Althea motioned with her hand, and Michelle suddenly became short of breath, clutching the fabric of her shirt. She pulled it to see the movement of blood stop near her heart, which the liquid made look like a gaping abyss. Blood moved more sluggishly and not from every side of her heart. Chung was also examining his chest, as was Nielsen. Althea then moved to stand over Nielsen as she gasped. “Well, since we have a medical expert here, why don’t you explain it?”

“You’ve blocked one of the atria,” Nielsen said with a groan.

Althea smiled. “Very good. And how many do you have left?”

She huffed. “Three.”

“One can only last so long with no blood pumping around the body.” She sighed wistfully. “So, if you lie or hesitate when you answer a question, you’ll block another atrium. Three strikes, and you’re out. I can sense each of your pulses, so don’t think you can pull one over on me.”

So, she had to be honest, and she had to be fast. That sounded… oddly doable. Of course, she would be feeling the symptoms from how Chung and Nielsen responded, but so long as she didn’t lie or take too long, she wouldn’t actually block her arteries. Michelle was someone who prided herself on being honest. Yes, she was a Fed, and lying sometimes came with the job, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t hold herself to her own standards of integrity. That was something important to her. And she certainly had no reason to lie to Althea, right? Nor did she have any issue being honest around Chung and Nielsen. She then panicked about the kind of questions they were going to be asked. Somehow, she felt they might just be personal enough to test her limits. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her heart rate, remembering the interrogation resistance training she had had what felt like forever ago when she had trained to be a field agent.

“Let’s start with something simple. State your name and rank.” Not unlike a polygraph, Michelle thought. Althea pointed at Chung. “You first.”

“Aleksander Chung.” Michelle could already hear him struggle to speak. He was at least twenty years her senior. She was surprised he had made it this far, given the cardiovascular intensity of some of the other rituals. “First lieutenant. US Air Force.”

She then pointed at Nielsen.

“Jenna Nielsen. Paramedic at Cedars-Sinai.” Up until now, Michelle hadn’t known the hospital she’d worked at. She wondered if she had seen her the day of the virus outbreak or whether she knew Doctor Macer. Even though the hostages hadn’t all been taken at once, it would make sense if they had all been taken from roughly the same area.

Finally, Althea turned to her. If Michelle wasn’t mistaken, Althea seemed to look at her a little longer than the others, which she didn’t like.

“Michelle Dessler. Chief of Staff, Counter Terrorist Unit Los Angeles.”

“Chung, do you believe you are capable of leading us?” Althea spoke so earnestly that it made it hard to not want to answer the question with complete seriousness. A rapid yes or no to appease her wasn’t possible. They were well beyond the point of entertaining what was happening here. It was real. And their decisions had power. So they had to go along with it if they wanted to stay alive.

“Yes,” he replied quickly, but sincerely. Michelle did honestly believe that. Over the past year and a bit, he and Banks had always been the ones to keep up morale and try to remind everybody of their united purpose.

It seemed there was an order to the ritual because Althea turned to Nielsen again and asked the same question.

“Y-Yes,” she answered, and Michelle watched as her veins pulsed faster. Nielsen might not have hesitated, but it was clear that she had lied. And if she could see it…

Althea made the same motion with her hand, looking down disapprovingly, and Michelle hissed in pain. She struggled to breathe as it was, but she could recognise that the increased intensity now wasn’t coming from her. She was feeling it second-hand from Nielsen. She had to remember that. Yes, it hurt, but it wasn’t killing her. She didn’t waste any time repeating the question to her, and Michelle ensured she responded promptly but confidently. Because the fact was, it was true. She did believe that. What she did not believe, however, was that the questions would stay as easy as this.

“When you were on tour in Iraq five years ago, there was an airstrike in a small village off the coast. Do you remember that, Chung?”

“Yes,” he said stiffly.

“Thirty people died. Including five children. Do you believe it was justified?”

He squared his jaw. “We went on the best information we had at the time.”

“That’s not answering my question.” She slowly clenched her fist, and Michelle felt tightness in her chest as Althea controlled the viscosity of his blood. “Do you believe it was justified?”

“N-No,” he admitted. “It wasn’t.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re lying to me.” He cried out in pain with the wave of her hand, and Michelle took a few laboured breaths, trying to think of what Althea might bring up for her, realising she might go more specific.

“Two months before you were taken here, you drove to the scene of a car accident,” Althea said, and like with the previous question, she could tell that Nielsen seemed to know what was coming. “You had two victims in critical condition: a mother and her six-year-old son. You decided to administer CPR to the son, even though you knew he had lost a lot more blood. He had no pulse, but you kept going. The mother went into cardiac arrest and then had her left leg amputated. If you had stopped CPR earlier, you could have prevented that. Am I correct?”

“Y-Yes. If she’d gotten to the hospital sooner, she probably wouldn’t have needed the amputation.”

“Then why didn’t you stop?”

Nielsen had tears in her eyes. “I thought he had a chance and that I could save him.”

“So you thought he was more important?”

She shook her head. “No. It… it was a split-second decision.”

“The mother was screaming in pain. The boy was already unconscious. Based on your training, you should have gone to her first. Which means you did the wrong thing, didn’t you?”

“H-He was so little, I-“

“Time’s up,” she said abruptly, and Nielsen let out a sob as another atrium was blocked. She doubled over, starting to cry, and Michelle reminded herself to breathe. Nielsen only had one atrium left now. Michelle could tell she was distressed by the level of detail Althea had recalled. “Now. The day you were brought here, you shot a man. He was trying to escape a hotel where the Cordilla virus had been released. He had no idea he was infected. So, you decided it was necessary to stop him by any means. If given another chance, do you think you could have talked him down?”

That made her pause. Michelle had expected Althea to bring up the hotel. Based on the previous questions, she had prepared an answer regarding whether she regretted her decision. But this, trying to get back into that mindset and conclude whether talking him down had been viable, was a little different. Michelle had replayed the moment she shot him over and over again, wondering whether aiming slightly higher or lower could have injured him but not killed him. She had then realised that regardless of what her gunshot would have done, the man likely would have died. Natural immunity was a rare occurrence for a synthetic virus; it had been a miracle she had gotten out of that hotel alive, let alone the handful of others. So, based on statistics, she had done that man a favour by ending his life much more mercifully than the virus would have. At the same time, that had not been her choice to make. But she had to think about the consequences of his survival. She had been trying to manage dozens of frightened people; all it had taken was one voice louder than the rest to drive them. If he had taken control, there might have been several windows smashed, several people escaping, and several points of contact for the virus to spread. They had been so lucky to mostly contain exposure to the hotel. With the death and despair she had seen that day, she had been glad to know she had prevented risking anymore. At that moment, she realised that that was just it. It had been about the greater good. It always had been. Sacrificing his life with the belief that he would have threatened thousands more had been the right call.

“I wouldn’t change what I did,” Michelle said honestly. “Getting through to him would have been impossible. He had been paranoid and made everybody around him paranoid. All hell would have broken loose if people had followed him outside.”

“I appreciate your honesty and assurance,” Althea said with legitimate praise. “But you have had more than a year to think about this. You took far too long to answer me.”

This time, there was a noticeable change in her circulation, and, if she was not mistaken, the other upper atrium was blocked now. It was much more difficult to breathe now, and judging by the way Chung and Nielsen were tensing, they could feel it, too. Althea might value honesty, but Michelle knew she could not afford to waste time with deliberation. She had to go with her gut.

“Chung, from what I have seen of you, I believe what you value most is respecting authority. Do you respect mine?”

“No,” he dared to say, gritting his teeth. “You are sick, and I will never bow down to you.” Michelle was sure she had never seen him this aggressive.

To her shock, Althea seemed more focused on gauging his pulse and body language than caring about his blatant disrespect for her. She looked offended but not like she was about to punish him. It was something Michelle took note of. No matter how much pride she took in being a leader of Chrismos Lukos, she would not allow a critical remark to detract from the reverence of the rituals.

“Nielsen, you took an oath to protect and heal people. Will you protect the members of Chrismos Lukos?”

She seemed to be struggling the most with her chest pain. She feebly said yes but repeated the word, begging Althea to believe her. Michelle was in too much pain to read her but was aware that paramedics and other medical workers often had to set aside their differences with whoever they might be helping to honour their oath. Their job was to deliver the best care they could without discrimination. Althea acknowledged Nielsen was being truthful and then faced her.

“We chose you because of your integrity. You value your principles and the law above all else. So will you obey ours?”

“Yes,” Michelle said, very intentionally maintaining a steady level of breathing, as she had been, hoping that Althea wouldn’t sense her lie. Even though Chung had just shown that she could openly denounce Althea and it wouldn’t affect her progress here, Michelle reminded herself that she had to make sure Althea believed she was on her side. She had to take advantage of Althea’s interest in her and the signs she had already shown. She needed her to trust her.

“Why?”

It took Michelle a moment to realise this was a follow-up still directed at her.

“I-I believe in the cause,” Michelle said, pausing to inhale in the middle of her sentence.

She tilted her head sweetly at her. “Are you being honest with me?”

Michelle squinted at her. “What?”

“You’re a federal agent. You think I don’t know that you’re trained to keep your heart rate steady under interrogation? I think it’s unfair if I don’t push you further.”

“I’m telling you the truth,” Michelle insisted.

She hummed. “See, I don’t believe that. Why do you really want this, Michelle?”

Althea stared her down, and Michelle felt there was no hiding from her now. She didn’t even feel safe in the confines of her thoughts. It was clear that this interest in her was because Althea had strong faith that she would make it to the end. There were only a couple of rituals left for Althea to decide whether she wanted to eliminate her early to protect the cult. Althea respected the rituals but would die for the cult and its members. She could see that. Michelle was aware of Nielsen groaning in pain and Chung squeezing his eyes shut as he kept a hand over his chest.

“I-I want the power I deserve,” Michelle stammered.

She folded her arms. “Liar.”

“I want to rule Chrismos Lukos. I believe it’s my right.”

“Just tell her the truth, for Christ’s sake!” Nielsen screamed.

“It is the truth,” Michelle said with more conviction. “It’s what I want. Why are you asking me this?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Let’s just say that I’m curious. Tell me right now. Why do you want to join us?”

Nielsen pleaded again, sounding almost manic. She couldn’t blame her. At this point, the pain was excruciating, but with three out of four atria blocked, Nielsen wouldn’t be able to hold on for much longer. Every inhale was becoming shallower. It felt like a snake was squeezing her chest. She couldn’t take it anymore. She had to end this.

“Because I want to take you down,” Michelle said with a deep, gruff tone she had never heard herself speak in.

Despite how much Althea seemed to know about them, this admission ostensibly surprised her. Michelle kept her gaze on Althea and watched her jaw twitch as she stared back.

“I knew we should have taken your husband instead.”

She might not have said his name, but the mere thought of Althea watching him or wanting him like she had wanted her made her blood boil.

“You leave him out of this!” Michelle roared. She couldn’t deny the slight growl that had escaped her throat this time.

They were so focused on their defiant exchange that Michelle did not notice Nielsen had stopped screaming until a searing pain on her right bicep broke her focus. She had collapsed onto her side. Chung panted, and Michelle took the opportunity to breathe deeply. Her blood vessels faded back to their usual colour, and the tightness slowly left her chest. She was still rife with fury and didn’t say anything to Chung when they were taken back to their cells. Michelle tried to get ahold of her breathing as she laid in bed. But now she was faced with a new fear to keep her on edge.

If Althea knew she did not truly believe in the cause, then what was to stop her from killing her?

Michelle spent the next few days in a heightened state of anxiety and misery. She wished she had held on a little longer and kept her mouth shut, no matter how good it had felt to release her rage. There was much more where that had come from. It had powered her for more than a year. She hadn’t pushed it down and let it make her feel anxious. She’d used it to her advantage. But now it might have just cost her everything. And it wasn’t like she could rest easy because Althea knew Chung wasn’t exactly on her side either. It was all or nothing. Althea had invested so much into the twelve of them. She would be a fool to throw it all away now. But she’d genuinely seemed taken aback by their lack of loyalty. Maybe people didn’t usually still show these doubts this late in the ritual process. Maybe people were usually enthralled enough by the prospect of power to truly want to serve them. Althea’s words still haunted her.

“I knew we should have taken your husband instead.”

She wondered what Tony would have done in her situation and whether he would have made it to this stage like her. The more she thought of him, the more it hurt, and eventually, she was crying. Chung asked her if she was okay.

“It’s over,” Michelle said, her voice breaking. “She’s going to kill both of us because she knows we aren't loyal. I’ve ruined everything.”

“No, I did first,” he insisted. “We were at our breaking point.”

“I was angry.” Michelle sniffled. “I was so angry at Althea I didn’t even notice Nielsen had died. What kind of person does that make me?”

The desensitisation disgusted her. She knew it had been a necessary coping skill, but she hated it. It, unfortunately, made her think of Jack. She understood why he had to draw that line, why it was the only reason he could still go on after losing his wife. But she just couldn’t fathom the idea of treating every person she had suffered with here as a necessary loss to get into a position to take the cult down. They all had families. They had all served their country. But she just couldn’t take the fact that they’d died for nothing, far away from everyone and everything they’d known. Their families would never recover their bodies and know the truth unless she or Chung made it out of there.

Chung sighed. “Look. We all knew from the beginning that this was every person for themselves. It’s the only reason we’ve survived this long. I know in your heart that you care about the lives lost over this last year. I know you think about each and every one.” Michelle slowly sat up to look at him. “The fact that you were able to not only tell Althea that you wouldn’t serve her but that you wanted to take her down is a testament to your bravery. No one, no one, not even me, could have done that. I might have told her where to shove it, but you dared to challenge her.”

She shook her head, appreciating and feeling the kindness of his words but not feeling worthy of accepting them.

“Your husband would be so proud of you.”

Michelle let out a sob. There was something about the way he said it that hit her straight in the chest. It felt so real. It was like he really knew that and was telling her on Tony’s behalf.

“I… I can’t really describe it, but for the last few months, I think I’ve gotten some kind of power of looking into people’s hearts,” Chung went on, as though knowing what she was thinking. “Every time I look at someone, I see people around them. I can almost sense them through whoever I’m looking at. But I don’t think that I’m necessarily feeling them from so far away. I think it’s based on your memories of them.”

It made sense to think that the abilities they’d gained over time would differ. She remembered reading that somewhere in the pamphlets. She wasn’t quite sure if she had anything like that. She knew her senses had heightened, as had everyone’s, although the extent may not be the same. She had obviously shown the signs of the wolf early, so perhaps her advantage would be more physical.

“When I look at you, I see your husband and family, but I also keep seeing the others. Which is why I know you’ll be a great leader. And you’ll follow through on your plan to get justice for us.”

She went to protest that assumption, but he cut her off.

“It’s going to be you. We both know it’s going to be you, Michelle.” The corners of his lips upturned, something that her enhanced vision did allow her to see. “I’ve given up on the idea of ruling. I knew my time would eventually come, but I didn’t care because I trusted you. You’ll make this right. You’ll get back to CTU and tell the government about Chrismos Lukos.”

The supervising guard laughed derisively. “Once you have the power, you’ll never want to go back to your old life. Although, your tenacity is certainly of value. It’s admirable that it’s lasted this long.”

Michelle huffed. “And what if I do? What exactly will Althea do to me if I make it and still feel the same way?”

She walked over to them with a sneer. “We have our ways. Everyone has a weak spot. We’ll find yours.”

For a moment, an image from one of the previous rituals appeared in her head: the nightmare where she saw herself torturing Tony. His scream echoed, and she gasped, looking around her. The leader chuckled. “Ah. That never gets old.”

Too tired and reminded of her underlying apprehension, Michelle decided to try to rest after that, feeling their mutual discomfort in her gut. She wasn’t ready. It hit her that after the next ritual happened, she would be alone. She wasn’t going to have anybody on her side anymore. No one to help her remember who she was and remind her of her purpose. She would never forgive herself if she lost her way and surrendered to them. She had to keep fighting. She hadn’t come all this way to not do that. Her breath hitched when a second leader came in and started to unlock their cells.

“Michelle,” Chung called, grabbing her hand briefly while the guards started to drag them. “Whatever happens… it was nice knowing you.”

She nodded with a soft smile. “It was nice knowing you, too.”

Althea seemed excited about this ritual, given that it was the deciding factor. But it also seemed she was trying to make sure they both knew she still didn't trust them. They were directed to sit on opposite sides of the room, facing each other. Between them was a jar of pins, the kind used for sewing.

“Let me make something clear since you’re both so worried. Even though you’ve both made me angry, I won’t interfere with fate,” Althea stated, narrowing her eyes at them. “One of you will still make it and receive your rightful power. But once the rituals are over, you’re mine, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you understand that.” Althea then cleared her throat. “This ritual is about ownership of your power. The wolf that one of you will earn is yours and only yours. So, you will fight for your place.”

The other leaders handed each of them a small fabric doll. Michelle looked down at it and then back at Chung. Button eyes and stitched mouth aside, the resemblance was uncanny. And, she was sure, Chung’s looked a lot like hers, too. If she wasn’t mistaken, it was a voodoo doll.

“I think you’re both smart enough to know what will happen. But…” She took out a third doll that didn’t seem to resemble anyone in particular and squeezed it, causing both her and Chung to double over and wince. “If you hesitate, I’ll decide for you. I’ve used this enough times to know exactly where humans feel the most pain.” Althea took a pin from the jar and handed it to her. “Ladies first.”

Michelle met her eyes and took it tentatively. She hovered it over the doll, trying to scale the dimensions so she could try not to hurt Chung terribly. That had to be what this was. They would keep stabbing the pins until someone died. But this terrified her. She hadn’t had to hurt anyone directly. She’d come somewhat close in the last ritual, and, yes, she was thinking about what she’d done to Blane, too, but this was different. She slowly inserted the pin where she gauged the location of his wrist. He grimaced, and Michelle watched blood pour from his forearm. It trickled slowly like the wound was being gradually opened; she didn't think she had hit an artery or anything vital, thankfully. But she realised that going hard and fast might be more ideal.

He then did the same, trying to replicate her motion, and she watched wide-eyed as she started to bleed from a small, precisely placed spot near her wrist bone. It felt more intense than it should, and she recognised that she was also still feeling the pain from administering the first wound to Chung. She tried the same arm again, as did he, both conscious of Althea’s warning about pace. They then tried to do the same on the opposite arm. The blood from her fingertips and under her nails started to stain the pins and the doll. With every turn, she tried to think further about other body parts that would be safe. Chung would mimic her movements every time, keeping it fair and maintaining a pace Althea was satisfied with. At the same time, she wondered whether she was only delaying the inevitable. Would it simply be more merciful if she just went in with a fatal shot? But that was it: it wasn’t her choice to make because she was in control of someone else’s body.

At one point, while trying to go higher, he accidentally stabbed right over the scar on her bicep from the last ritual, which made them both cry out in pain. Then, she hit the spot of a war injury of his that made her whole arm numb for a moment. The two of them started placing the pins in the dolls' legs, intermittently looking up at each other with concern. With every stab, emotions rose as they realised they were running out of places that weren’t risky. She could see his doll resembled a porcupine, as did hers, and he nervously hovered the needle over her abdomen. While she appreciated his care, Althea didn’t. Althea decided to grab the third doll and go for the solar plexus, knocking the wind out of them and forming a small red circle on the cloak. Michelle's eyes were wet with tears, both from pain and the heaviness of knowing it would be over soon. She could sense an intense bittersweetness from Chung, too. What they didn’t realise either was that they had both gained so much endurance and strength from all the rituals, so the blood loss wasn’t affecting them as much as it probably should. Althea even had to order one of the other leaders to refill the pins as the supply started to wane. Michelle wondered whether people were usually much more ruthless when it came to this ritual, going for the kill rather than prolonging the other’s final moments.

As the process continued, every inch of her skin felt sticky with blood, her hands were shaking, and she was struggling to keep her eyes open. Chung looked even worse, and Althea had intervened on multiple occasions. Admittedly, the shock of the random stabbing did jolt her back into consciousness. But she was more scared than ever now because she knew there was no chance of this ending naturally. There was too much determination between them for someone to lose this fight peacefully.

“Michelle… finish it,” Chung said with fatigue, having come to the same conclusion. “You know it’s only going to be one of us that makes it, and it should be you. You’re stronger.”

She shook her head, the tears of pain sliding down her cheeks.

“No,” She breathed, meeting his eyes, unsurprised to see him crying too. “I-I can’t. I can’t kill you.”

He lunged forward, snatched the doll from her and drove the pin into its centre. Althea and one of the other leaders tried to stop him but were too late. Michelle watched with horror as he screamed in pain, a large circle of crimson forming on his chest and spreading. As he fell to the floor, she squeezed her own eyes shut, crying out as the final scar burned into her arm. A surge of power coursed through her, just as it had each and every time before. But what was even more powerful was the cognisance that it was over. She was the only one left now.

She had made it to the Ritual of the Beast.

When she was taken back to her cell, the first thing she noticed was how quiet it was. It should be peaceful, but it unnerved her. For the last year and a bit, she had sat in this cell, hearing and sensing the heartbeats of the other hostages. With every ritual, she had felt those heartbeats stronger, to the point where Chung’s had synchronised with hers and pulsed doubly strong. But now… she was so blatantly aware of how alone she was. She was more anxious than ever. Every emotion she had absorbed from the other hostages, the pain, the fear, the anger, was contained within her soul now. Michelle was almost trembling from how overwhelmed she was. She felt like she was going to explode. Eleven people had died. She ached for them and their families. Her heart was so heavy with grief that she could barely remind herself that she had made it out of this for a reason. Because the real battle had only just begun. She had clawed her way to the top, but now she had to gain the trust of the other leaders so she could avenge the hostages. She would avenge them. No matter how they threatened her, she would not let Althea and the other leaders stop her from doing so. However, she was still afraid of being in a pliable position because she was so outnumbered by the leaders.

They brought her out at the next full moon, or so she was told, and while they were very forceful, with more guards escorting her than usual, something was seriously different in how they treated her. There was an eagerness to it. All eyes were on her, which only made her more nervous. She felt the same urge to run from when she first arrived here all that time ago. Despite knowing her efforts would be futile, she fought against their grip and screamed. She was terrified of what was next. They hadn’t given any hints as to the details of the final ritual; it had been deemed too sacred for anyone except the chosen one to know. And with this lack of preparation, she wondered how long it would take her to escape here. She didn’t want to spend any more time here than necessary, but realistically, it could be several more months by the time she figured out how to transform on her own. She couldn’t take it anymore. She couldn’t breathe. She needed to get out.

Michelle was shoved to the floor, and multiple people held her down, pinning her wrists above her head and forcing their weight on her ankles so she couldn’t kick them back. Althea hovered over her, a dangerous look in her eye.

“You have proven your strength and determination and been rewarded with the power of the eleven souls that have been sacrificed. So now it is time for you to channel the wolf. Έχετε αποδείξει τη δύναμη και την αποφασιστικότητά σας και ανταμειφθήκατε με τη δύναμη των έντεκα ψυχών που θυσιάστηκαν. Τώρα λοιπόν ήρθε η ώρα να διοχετεύσετε τον λύκο.” Althea and the other leaders started chanting quietly.

She hissed at the sensation of something sharp in the side of her neck, and she immediately realised it was a syringe, but another hand kept her in place. What it contained, she didn’t know. But it seemed to take effect almost immediately. Every bone in her body started to ache and move of its own accord. It was like she was being pulled in every direction. There was a slight tickling sensation, and from what she could see, fur was sprouting all over her body. The room became lighter, which she recognised as the sensation of her eyes illuminating. She jerked against the people restraining her, and they allowed her to move just enough to continue the transformation. But they made it very clear that she would not be released. And suddenly, those mixed feelings were slowly channelled into one thing: rage. After being imprisoned here for so long, she wanted, no, deserved, her freedom. Eleven people had died, and she damn well wanted to show that it had been worth something. She wanted justice.

As she focused on it, it seemed to enhance her transformation further. The discomfort and fear of being confined started to disappear, and she felt a combination of euphoria and pure anger consuming every part of her body. She was moving around so quickly and violently that she couldn’t tell what part of her was still human and what part of her wasn’t. Slowly but surely, the grip of each person loosened one by one. They tried to reinforce their authority over her, but she was strong enough to break free. Now that it was complete, she recalled the perspective from the ritual with the dream and the evil eye stones. Only this time, it felt much more real. She barked and growled at them more viciously than ever before, and the human leaders seemed not to want to interfere. Althea had a mix of awe and warning on her face. It was like she was daring her to challenge her. Ordinarily, Michelle would see this as a moment to determine whether she really had as much control here as she thought, but right now, she was too high on the feeling of power and hope to think rationally. She daringly met Althea’s eyes before pouncing on one of the other leaders, specifically, one who had been more than a little forceful when holding her down. Her fangs sunk into his shoulder, and the other leaders shouted, trying to pry her off him.

While they physically weren’t strong enough to take her, what ultimately did stop her in her tracks was another injection, this time having the total opposite effect. Everything immediately slowed down, and her body felt heavy. Her bones shifted, and this time, she tried to resist it, not wanting to let go of this feeling yet, too excited by the prospect of using it to defeat them. She was vaguely aware of the sound of the door opening and someone speaking urgently. Michelle kept fighting and trying to maintain her stance. It did seem to work against the concoction. For a moment, she thought she could try to reverse it completely but was soon met with stagnancy. Now, she couldn’t quite move in either direction, and the rush subsided. She was now very conscious of how she looked and her relative strength. A few of the other leaders had turned and were blocking the exits. Her ears flattened, and she backed towards the corner. Her breaths started to shudder, and she kept every part of her tense to keep whatever remained of the wolf, but she could already see her nails had shortened, and some of the hair had fallen out. Her joints felt very weak, and she collapsed onto her side, panting heavily.

“We need to leave now,” Althea stated. “We’ve sensed two people headed towards us.”

The leaders muttered in shock. “Are you sure?” one of them said.

“We can’t take the risk. Go tell the others to grab their things and start leaving. We’re less likely to be noticed if we do this gradually.”

“What about Dessler? She’s fighting it too much,” the leader she bit pointed out, gingerly rubbing his arm. “We’ll give her another dose.”

“No,” Althea said, walking towards her and bending down. “You liked that, didn’t you? Having that power, being in control. I knew you would. We can teach you to harness it,” she offered sweetly before hardening her voice. “But the fact is, I don’t trust you. And you’re ungrateful. Traditionally, in this ritual, we’re supposed to give you the choice of serving us, and you’re supposed to say yes. Here’s another choice: do you want to live, Michelle?” Althea took out a knife and a small dish, cutting her palm without flinching and allowing the blood to drip down. She also added a few drops of another liquid from a vial. “If you really are loyal to us and want to show it, drink this, and you’ll be connected to me. I’ll give you the guidance to come home and transform back completely.” Michelle shuddered at the thought of ever considering these people home but couldn’t deny the part of her that was desperate to hold onto what she had just experienced. “But if you don’t… you’ll die within a matter of days like this. This is what you get for biting the hand that feeds you.”

Michelle tried to speak but found herself making a noise halfway between a croak and a howl. Althea laughed at her before she and the other leaders left without acknowledging her, slamming the door behind them. She groaned in pain, trying to move. But everything hurt. She felt like she was going to pass out but desperately tried to keep an awareness of her surroundings. Even though some of her physical features had changed back, mentally, she wasn’t in the right headspace. Everything seemed to flicker between an innate, animalistic fight or flight response and her more logical human thoughts. The anxiety from before her transformation was back, too. With her hearing, she paid attention to the frantic sound of people packing things up and leaving. The soundscape grew quieter, and eventually, she was totally alone. While she had never had a good grasp on time during her capture, now everything felt arduous. She lay there trying to get comfortable, the dish just within her grasp. It was so tempting to take it to get some semblance of that power and elation from before. But her principles spoke louder. She couldn’t let herself be connected to Althea like that; it would risk the very thing she was afraid of happening: being at her complete mercy.

Then there was the question of who exactly the leaders had sensed coming. Were they just paranoid, or had someone really found them? She imagined they were situated somewhere reasonably remote, so it surely wasn’t just a civilian. No, if somebody had found them, it meant they were looking for Chrismos Lukos. Did any law enforcement agency even know about them? She may have heard the name once or twice but never really made the connection or seen them come up in a case. Then again, if they were raiding the place, two people didn’t sound like enough. She didn’t want to be too optimistic here. But at the same time, what did she have left to hold onto? Hours passed, or at least she thought they did, but nothing changed. Maybe their intuition had been wrong. It sounded doubtful. She didn’t pin them as the kind of people to take their entire establishment and flee just based on a bad feeling. Perhaps it would just take a while, maybe even long enough that she would be dead before they made it. That was a grim thought. She was going to die down here. Not because she was too weak. Not because she hadn’t fought hard enough. Because she’d gotten too caught up in her built-up rage, and now, it had cost her everything. She inched over to where Althea had left the dish. She could have it all back. She needed it all back. She wasn’t going to let her stubbornness be her demise.

Her ears perked up at the sound of noise. It was very faint. She wouldn’t have heard it if she had regular human hearing. There were no sounds of gunshots or announcements from agencies. Had the cult leaders forgotten something? It seemed rather risky for them to come back. That didn’t make sense. Maybe they were here to silence the people supposedly on their way. Perhaps that was why the government didn’t know anything about them: anyone who had tried to get close hadn’t made it back.

The door opened again, and she kept very still, unsure of who was there. She heard her name called. Fear was her dominant emotion. There was nothing she could go off anymore. Anything could happen now. She managed a low growl, a warning for whoever they were to stay back. There were footsteps moving towards her in the dark. Something about the voice was familiar, but she couldn’t understand why. Michelle also realised she could sense the number of people: three heartbeats, all racing. They didn’t have the arrogance or levelheadedness she might expect from a leader. In fact, they seemed just as scared as she was. One of them was inching closer and closer, and it made her feel claustrophobic. Giving into what remained of her strength, she leapt forward, feeling her paw make contact with skin. The person beneath her screamed, and she pressed down harder, wanting them to understand that she wasn’t going to let them take her. Someone shouted fearfully. The voice was female, not recognisable. She sounded afraid. Good. Her sense of familiarity hadn’t gone away, either, but she wasn’t able to focus on it enough to understand why. All she could think about was protecting herself and making the most of her final hours. Something pierced her neck, but she pushed through it. It happened again, and the sluggishness consumed her within seconds, her intense emotions dissipating with her consciousness.

But, before everything faded to black, in a moment of clarity, she realised it had been her husband’s terrified eyes staring back at her.