Naomi found herself tucked quietly into a secluded alcove of the infirmary, back pressed to the cool stone wall. The medics' gentle murmurs, occasional rustling of linens, and the soft breathing of resting patients formed a comforting hum around her. For a brief moment, Naomi allowed herself to be absorbed by the quiet ordinariness of it all, her gaze drifting across the room without truly seeing.
Yet her thoughts offered no such peace. Visions forced themselves upon her, vivid and harsh, Roe's face contorted in pain, surprise etched deeply into his expression as she drove his own dagger into his chest. Her fingers curled involuntarily, still feeling the phantom weight of the blade's hilt, still hearing Roe's strangled gasp of shock and disbelief. She'd made that choice without coercion, without the collar's numbing restraint. The act was hers alone, a truth that twisted uncomfortably within her.
Naomi drew her knees closer, hugging them tightly against her chest as she exhaled a trembling breath. Her eyes slowly found their way toward Eli's distant form, visible beneath blankets across the infirmary. Even from this distance, she recognized the gentle rise and fall of his breathing, a steady rhythm offering silent hope. A sharp pang of sorrow mingled with guilt surged through her. She wanted to be by his side, wanted to whisper apologies and promises that somehow things would get better. But something deeper, heavier, held her back.
Would Eli even recognize the person she'd become? The girl he'd known was lost beneath layers of trauma and choices made in darkness, and the woman left in her place felt like a stranger, even to herself. Naomi's eyes fell away, sadness pulling at her chest. But beneath that sadness, something else began to stir, resolve, quiet yet firm.
Nikodemus. The name rose within her mind, bitter and painfully familiar. Her father, the architect of her torment. Every dark twist in her life traced back to his experiments, his reckless ambition. Her jaw tightened, anger simmering beneath her quiet reflection. She didn't merely want answers, she needed them. She needed to look him in the eyes and force him to see what he'd done to her, how he'd twisted her life into something barely recognizable.
The voices of medics and guards drifted into her awareness, whispers heavy with anxiety about the coming mission, about Nikodemus's compound and the dangerous unknowns they faced. Naomi leaned forward slightly, straining to catch each word, her pulse quickening as urgency filled her chest. She knew, with sudden clarity, that she couldn't simply remain behind and wait. She refused to be passive again, another pawn, another victim.
Maybe Nikodemus could undo it, reverse the powers he'd thrust upon her. Maybe she could finally reclaim something resembling a normal life. Or maybe she would find something far more important: the truth of who she was, independent of his twisted experiments. Her powers didn't define her, and neither did the terrible acts she'd been forced into. What defined her were her choices, and for the first time, Naomi felt ready to truly choose her own path.
She rose slowly to her feet, determination crystallizing within her, fierce and unwavering. Glancing once more at Eli's sleeping form, Naomi whispered quietly, more promise than plea:
"I'll find him, Eli. I'll get answers. For both of us."
Naomi's footsteps echoed quietly through the stone corridors, the sound swallowed by the quiet solemnity of the palace at night. She moved deliberately, each step weighted with purpose, her thoughts racing far ahead of her physical presence. She rehearsed words in her mind, arguments and pleas, rational explanations, and emotional truths, knowing she'd need them all.
She paused outside the entrance to the Rat King's private study, heart hammering softly. A lantern flickered warmly from within, dancing shadows played beneath the door. Naomi hesitated for just a breath, gathering strength from somewhere deep within herself, before knocking softly.
"Come in," came the familiar, calm voice from inside.
Naomi pushed the heavy door open, stepping into the warmth of the Rat King's study. He sat quietly at his broad desk, a spread of maps and scattered notes before him. His expression softened at the sight of her, but concern quickly filled his gaze as he recognized the tension in her posture.
"Naomi," the king said gently, setting down the paper he'd been holding. "Is something wrong?"
She took a careful breath, stepping forward and meeting his gaze squarely. "I heard about the mission to confront Nikodemus."
His ears twitched slightly, his expression cautious. "I suppose it was inevitable you would."
"I want to go," Naomi said quickly, words rushing out before her nerves could stop her. "I need to be there."
His gaze immediately darkened, concern shifting quickly into resolve. "Naomi, it's far too dangerous. I can't allow it."
Naomi clenched her fists tightly, fighting the wave of frustration that surged inside her. "You haven't even heard me out."
"Because there's nothing you could say that would make me risk your safety," the Rat King replied, his voice still calm, but firm enough to close doors. "Nikodemus isn't Roe, Naomi. He's far more dangerous, unpredictable."
Naomi stepped forward, determination blazing in her eyes. "He's also my father," she shot back, her voice trembling slightly despite her effort to keep it steady. "I deserve answers. I deserve to know why he did this to me, to all of us."
The king flinched almost imperceptibly, a subtle flash of pain crossing his features at her words. "I understand how important this must feel—"
"No," Naomi interrupted sharply, voice rising. "You don't. You can't. You weren't forced to wear a collar. You weren't used as a weapon against your will, forced to take lives, to lose yourself in someone else's nightmare." She stepped closer, desperation woven tightly into her voice. "I'm not asking lightly. I need this. I need the closure."
A heavy silence settled between them as he regarded her quietly, compassion and anguish battling silently behind his gentle eyes. "And what about my closure, Naomi?" he finally asked softly, the pain unmistakable in his tone. "If I lose you, if something happens, what then?"
His words hung in the air, thick with hurt and fear. Naomi paused, caught off-guard by the raw vulnerability in his voice. She felt her anger crumble slightly, replaced instead by a deep ache in her chest. "You can't shelter me forever."
"I can try," he replied quietly, a note of stubborn determination threading through the pain. "You've already suffered enough."
Naomi shook her head, frustration mounting again. "Exactly. And that's why I need this. You don't get to decide how much is too much for me. Not after everything I've already been through."
The Rat King stood slowly, moving around his desk toward her, his presence suddenly overwhelming in its earnestness. "Naomi, I'm not trying to control you. I'm trying to protect you."
"Maybe you shouldn't," she whispered fiercely, emotion making her voice break slightly. "Maybe what I need is to face him myself, to confront who I am and who he made me into. If anyone can reverse this, it's Nikodemus. And if he can't…" she trailed off briefly, eyes glittering with quiet defiance, "…then at least I'll know the choice is mine. I won't let fear keep making decisions for me."
She turned sharply, moving toward the door, heart pounding painfully in her chest. He didn't try to stop her, his silence followed her, heavy with unspoken words and quiet grief.
Naomi stood rigid, her eyes locked defiantly on the Rat King's pained gaze. The space between them felt charged, heavy with unsaid words and fierce, quiet rebellion. She could feel the heat behind her eyes, tears threatening to blur her vision, but she refused to let them fall, not now, not in front of him.
"I can't lose you, Naomi," the king repeated softly, voice thick with grief and stubborn protectiveness. "I simply can't."
A surge of frustration broke past her tightly-held restraint. She stepped back sharply, fists clenching, the weight of his words suffocating her. Her voice was low, filled with a quiet intensity, nearly breaking under the strain. "Then you've already lost me."
The Rat King flinched visibly, her words striking deeper than she'd intended. Naomi saw something shift behind his eyes, sorrow overtaking his resolve, but she knew it wasn't enough. He would never willingly let her face Nikodemus, not when he believed it meant losing her forever.
She stared at him, heart hammering painfully. The silence stretched, bitter and heavy, each second sharpening her resolve and her desperation. A dark thought crept into the edges of her mind, frightening and tempting all at once. She knew it was wrong, knew it violated everything she'd sworn never to do again. She couldn't stop slow her thoughts as all of her anger and her fear of being trapped once more, manifested itself into a familiar, disgusting voice.
Roe's.
Ain't you tired of asking permission, beautiful? his voice drawled cruelly, dripping with mockery. She could almost feel the ghost of his breath against her ear, his phantom fingertips brushing the base of her neck. You got the power. Use it. Or are you still pretending you're too good for it?
Naomi flinched, the memory of the collar sharply clawing at her throat. Her pulse thundered against her temples, a familiar terror growing at the edges of her consciousness. She tried to shove Roe's presence away, to silence the echo of his mocking laughter, but it only grew louder, more insistent.
Come on now, his voice taunted, silky and ruthless, where's my little monster from before? All those bodies from before, this is just a drop in the bucket girl. Do it, Naomi. Make him forget. Be the wolf you were always meant to be.
Naomi swallowed hard, fighting back the instinctive nausea that rose in her throat at Roe's taunts. Her power hummed softly within her, a subtle whisper, waiting patiently. She clenched her teeth, hesitating on the precipice. The Rat King reached out gently, sensing her turmoil, trying to bridge the gap she'd created between them.
"Naomi," he said, his voice gentle yet urgent, "please."
She closed her eyes briefly, a tremor running through her. Then, before she could lose her nerve, she lifted her gaze, eyes glowing faintly with power. Her voice came out steady, firm, though it felt alien even to herself.
"You won't remember this conversation," Naomi whispered softly, power lacing every syllable. "You won't remember that I asked to confront Nikodemus. We never spoke tonight."
For just a moment, confusion flickered across the Rat King's face, swiftly overtaken by a strange blankness as her words settled like stones in a still pond. Naomi felt a sharp, painful pang of guilt twist deep within her chest, but she refused to let herself back down now.
He blinked slowly, clarity returning to his eyes, though they carried none of the sorrow or pain from before. Instead, he regarded her with mild curiosity and confusion. "Naomi? Is something wrong?"
Her chest tightened unbearably as she forced a weak smile, trembling slightly. "No. Everything's fine," she lied, voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean to disturb you."
Without waiting for his reply, Naomi turned sharply and left, closing the door behind her with deliberate care, as if gentleness now could somehow atone for what she'd just done.
The moment the latch clicked shut, her careful facade cracked.
Naomi stumbled blindly down the hallways, her heart racing wildly, adrenaline and regret churning painfully within her.
Each breath came sharper, harsher, panic tightening its merciless grip around her throat. The corridor seemed to shrink around her, walls pressing inwards until every shadow loomed impossibly large, suffocating and relentless. Collapsing against the cold stone wall, the sudden chill searing against her burning skin. Her legs gave way, and she slid to the floor, knees drawn tightly to her chest as a violent tremor seized her body. Her vision blurred, dark spots dancing across her field of view, a strangled gasp escaping her throat as panic sank its claws deeper.
In that moment, every detail of her captivity crashed down upon her in unbearable clarity, the biting steel of the collar, Roe's cruel laughter echoing through the darkness, his mocking voice endlessly whispering threats and twisted promises into her ears. She could almost feel the sharp prick of his dagger pressed against her skin, smell the sour tang of fear that had haunted every waking second under his control.
Her trembling fingers rose involuntarily, brushing the skin at her throat where the collar had once sat. The phantom sensation of cold metal digging mercilessly into her flesh returned with vicious immediacy, sending a fresh surge of terror spiraling through her. Her breathing grew erratic, frantic, her lungs refusing to draw air despite her desperate attempts.
Did you really think you'd be free? Roe's voice hissed in the shadows of her mind, cruelly amused. You killed me, sure—but you'll never escape what I made you into.
Naomi's hands flew to her head, pressing tightly over her ears, desperate to silence him. "Stop," she whispered brokenly, choking back a sob. "You're gone, you're not here—"
But his voice only laughed, dark and twisted, echoing endlessly inside her skull.
Am I, though? Look what you just did, Naomi. You stole ole kings memory, his trust. And it didn't even take a collar this time. That was all you.
"No," Naomi gasped, tears burning hot down her face, panic rising to a crescendo. "No, no, please—"
Her body shook uncontrollably, waves of nausea threatening to overwhelm her. The stone walls seemed to close tighter, crushing her beneath their weight, her heartbeat thundering painfully in her ears until she thought she might shatter into a thousand broken pieces.
But through the haze of terror, another voice broke free, small yet fierce, unmistakably her own.
You're free, she thought desperately, clinging to the words like a lifeline. Roe is dead. The collar is gone. You are not his weapon.
Gradually, painfully, she forced each shallow breath deeper, grounding herself to the present. Her fingertips pressed deliberately against the bare skin at her neck, feeling its softness, the undeniable reality of freedom. Roe was nothing more than a nightmare now, a memory without true power, unless she allowed him to have it.
Naomi opened her eyes slowly, vision clearing as the walls ceased their suffocating press. Her breathing steadied, still ragged but no longer panicked. She rose shakily, leaning heavily against the cold stone, exhaustion mingling with the lingering dread still clawing gently at the edges of her mind.
"Nikodemus," Naomi whispered hoarsely, fists clenched in trembling determination. "I'm coming for you. And I'll make you answer for what you've done."