Chapter 11 Poisoned Mercy

Blood still dripped from my claws into the stream as I stood there, chest heaving. The purists’ ropes swayed empty above us, their skiff long gone. The wounded man groaned behind me while the caravan caught its breath.

Lysa moved through the chaos straight toward me, vial already in her hand. "Ren. You’re shaking. Take this. Now."

I looked down at her. Her face stayed calm, but I caught the way her eyes flicked over my furred shoulders and golden stare. "The whispers are louder after that fight," I said, voice low. "Telling me to finish what I started with those bastards."

"Exactly why you need this." She uncorked the vial and pressed it into my massive hand. "It will quiet the storm. Trust me."

I hesitated half a second, the Beast God fragment stirring again. But the pain in my torn muscles screamed louder. I tipped the liquid down my throat. Bitter heat spread fast, easing the worst of the fire in my veins. For a moment it felt like relief. Then unnatural energy flooded in behind it, sharp and restless, making my heart pound harder than the fight had.

"Damn," I muttered, flexing my claws. "It dulls the hurt but lights everything else on fire. I feel like I could run for days."

Lysa’s hand rested on my arm, steady as always. "Good. You’ll need that strength. Let me check the cuts while it works."

Dak stormed over before she could start, face tight with anger. "Ren. We need to talk. Right now. That purist ambush was too clean. They dropped right on top of us the second we stopped. Someone in this group is feeding them information."

I wiped blood from my claws. "You said that yesterday. You got proof?"

"Not yet," Dak growled, glancing back at the others. "But Karg’s been running his mouth about splitting every chance he gets. And a couple of the older slaves keep whispering when they think no one’s listening. If there’s a rat, we find him before he gets us all killed."

Karg pushed through the group, voice loud. "Or maybe we stop pretending this route isn’t cursed! The hybrid’s drawing every enemy in the Wilds. Purists, beasts, now his own kind watching us. I say we turn north, away from whatever madness he’s leading us into. Better to die free than follow a monster into more traps."

A few voices rose in agreement. "He’s right!" one slave called. "My brother’s already dead because we stayed with him."

Mira stepped up beside me, small but fierce. "Ren keeps saving us. You’d all be dead without him. Stop being cowards!"

"Easy for the infected kid to say," Karg shot back. "She’s already half monster anyway."

"Watch your mouth," I snarled, stepping forward. The new energy from Lysa’s medicine made my voice boom louder than I meant. "We stay together. North is open Wilds with no cover. We stick to the plan. Higher ground ahead. Anyone wants to leave, do it now. But don’t come crawling back when the next pack finds you alone."

The group quieted, but the tension stayed thick. Dak clapped a hand on my shoulder. "You handled that. But we still need to watch our own. I’m serious, Ren. Someone’s talking."

"I hear you," I said quietly. "Keep your eyes open."

Lysa finished wrapping a fresh gash on my side. "There. That should hold. You’re healing even faster now." Her touch felt warm, almost too careful.

My heightened senses suddenly prickled. I turned toward the tree line across the stream. A shadow moved, barely visible. Tall, furred shoulders, bone talismans hanging from a harness. Beast Clan scout. He didn’t run when I spotted him. Instead he raised one hand in a slow gesture, two fingers to his chest, then toward me. Recognition. Respect.

"He’s watching us right now," I whispered to Dak and Lysa. "First time one’s come this close. Not attacking. Just... observing."

Dak gripped his spear. "Beast Clan. That’s new trouble. You think they’re here for you? The Messiah talk from those purists?"

"Probably." I kept my eyes on the scout. He held my gaze for a long moment, then melted back into the trees without a sound. "This is getting bigger than us."

We moved on as the light faded. The caravan walked quieter now, fear pressing down. I took point again, new energy from the medicine keeping my steps strong even as night crept in. Mira stayed close, asking quiet questions about the stars she could still see through the canopy. Lysa walked beside me most of the way, checking on people but always circling back.

By the time we made camp in a shallow ravine, the whispers in my head had grown clearer. Not just rage anymore. Words.

[They fear what they made you… and they should.]

I froze near the edge of camp, claws digging into a tree trunk. The voice felt ancient, patient, and far too familiar. Like the betrayal memory from before, but sharper now. "Get out of my head," I breathed.

"Ren?" Lysa’s voice came soft behind me. She was packing her supplies by the small fire, sorting vials and cloths. I turned and saw her hands. They trembled slightly as she sealed one of the medicine pouches. Just a little. Enough that I noticed with my new senses.

"You okay?" I asked, stepping closer.

She looked up fast, forcing a smile. "Of course. Just tired. The day was long. Here, let me give you a smaller dose before you rest. It’ll help with the whispers you mentioned."

Her hands still shook as she offered the vial. The firelight caught her face, concern, yes, but something else flickering underneath. Guilt? Or just exhaustion?

I took the medicine anyway, the now-familiar burn sliding down. The Beast God’s voice echoed once more in my skull, clearer than ever.

[They fear what they made you… and they should.]

Lysa watched me drink, her fingers twisting together after I handed the empty vial back. The caravan settled in uneasy silence around us. Dak stood watch again, eyes scanning the darkness. Mira curled up nearby, trusting as always.

But that tremble in Lysa’s hands stayed with me. And the voice in my head refused to fade completely.

The night felt heavier now. Like everything was watching. Waiting for me to break.