~Calen
The forest hummed like a living thing — the kind of hum that kept bad thoughts buoyant and ambitions warm. I walked the rows of cages with the patience of a man taking inventory. Men worked around me: half-beast technicians, arcanists in stained robes, hulking figures pushing pallets of glass like they were handling infants. The new shipment — pale, slick with the dark serum — rattled softly as the wheels turned. They clacked against the timber floor, a steady, regular sound that pleased me.
Girth arrived before he spoke. He barreled into my line of sight, chest heaving, scent of iron on him and fear beneath. He stood like a boulder trying to apologize for its size.
“What’s the matter, Girth?” I asked, folding my hands behind my back.
He spat, trying to form words between breath
