"You're going to like this. You love the histories, the time of unfettered creation and discovery. That's what we've done here Winsor. We were inspired by this old tower to live as they did in the ancient days, when each of our kind answered only to his own burning curiosity."

Ricardo twisted, throwing the heavy door open with a grunt.

I'd never seen the inside of a dungeon with any torment crueler than forcing you to sit on damp straw and be bored out of your mind for a few days. I had heard stories though, and I connected the stories with the objects in this room. My heart kicked up pace with each new discovery, from the blood stained man-sized wooden clamp, to the array of polished barbers' blades. My gaze trailed along the leather straps that dangled from the surgery table in the center of the room.

"I believe you remember Phil and Phlo. "

Two more people stood on either side of the table. They were wearing smocks on top of plain working tunics, dark stains stood out bleak against the many orbs of light they had floating around the room. They were mumbling softly to themselves and only broke their attention from the table to glance at us. Whimpering came from whatever was on that table. Masks wrapped around the sorcerer's and sorceress's mouths loosely, billowing in and out with each even breath they took. However distressing this procedure was to their patient, they were not rattled. Blood pooled along the edge of the table and fell to the floor.

Ricardo guided the reluctant Winsor over toward the table. Once he was close enough to see what was on it, he shook his head. He tried to step back. He bumped into Ricardo's thick, extended arm. It curled, holding Winsor in place, making him see.

"You don't like it?" Ricardo asked, genuine surprise on his voice. Winsor was crying noiselessly.

What was upsetting him? Curiosity and fear compelled me forward, breaking from Juris's grasp. I strode to Winsor's side, my bare toes picking up sticky, drying blood that was still running to the drain. I looked down at the table and recoiled.

A young face, teeth missing in the open mouth, trembled with agony. The elven ears were limp, her freckles were bolder than ever against the deathly pallid skin. It was Thessa, the girl who had warned me about the mob earlier that night. The girl who was so eager to meet sorcerers. She had gotten her wish to meet them, to be noticed, but this was all wrong.

She was tied down to the table, restrained at the neck, wrist, and... as I looked down at her stomach, I recoiled in horror. The navel didn't taper into a crotch as it should have, but instead a filmy row of scales were crawling up her like moss on an old tree. The shape of two legs were merged together, but it wasn't natural. Instead, sagging strips of sewed on flesh bridged the gap. She gaped up at us. Her eyes met mine, and the whining went quiet. I heard a steady dripping sound. Her feet had been flattened, the toes extended and merged with semi translucent fins. I slipped my hand into hers, and her eyes met mine, tears welling in them.

"You... too... Azark?" she rasped. A spark in her eyes died. The last vestiges of resistance crumbled. Her gaze became unfocused.

"No, Thessa. I'm not with them. They are monsters. I will rescue you from them. You're going to be okay," I tried to say. No words came out. I felt Ricardo's heavy hand on my shoulder. I was yanked back. I stood there staring at Thessa as he talked, the words not coming into focus.

"Oh Winsor, don't cry for her. We're not keeping her awake just so she can suffer." Ricardo was not concerned for the girl, but for Winsor. "See, we tried this aquatic girl experiment on the previous few ungifted; they kept dying while under the sleeping spell. We figured if we kept her awake we would know exactly when things went wrong for the next round of tests. And it's working, just now she reached her breaking point."

"Her pulse is slowing," the sorceress, Phlo, said, her fingers pinching Thessa's wrist delicately. Phlo's eyes gazed up at us over the hem of her mask. "We're going to try and keep her, though. These fortuity fish are not easy to get ahold of."

Winsor's lips quivered with question, but he was still sealed.

Thessa breathed heavily on the table. The sorceress reached into a chilled cauldron of water next to her. She lifted out a fish, its silky fins familiar to me. The kind from the Avalonry. She chanted, and the pulp of the fish fell out as the fins broke off cleanly. She then leaned over the girl, and taking one blood caked foot into her hand, spoke again.

"These two elements must unite, seal the fin over this foot tight," she said. The girl on the table twisted with a bitter scream as the fin merged over the foot. Blood poured out from the edges in a chunky, seeping mess. She whimpered, but the restraints held her in place.

"I know it is gruesome now," Ricardo said. "But this inspiration hit us after we came back up here to the tower to reflect on our old favorite memories. We went through old Regularun's diaries. You know he made one of the first Shadow slinks?"

"Those are the cats that disappear when they're not in direct light. Their fur is good for making stealth cloaks from," the sorceress added, not looking up from her work.

"Yes. And we read his procedures, how he used cats and the fading flower, first just covering the cats with them, feeding the cats the flower.... Then he switched out the fur for the petals, painstaking, manually, and only using magic to support life. One series of experiments that went hilariously awry, he switched out the veins for the roots of the plant... it took a long time. Trials and breeding, until, one day..."

"Magic," the sorceress breathed. "Magic happened. Now they breed all on their own, not draining any sorcerer's resources, as natural as a doe."

"Don't become so ill Winsor," Ricardo said. Winsor was sinking, his legs giving out, and his face ashen. "It was sad for those animals, but in the end, aren't shadow slinks beautiful? And so much more useful than normal cats, so valuable. Monsters are made by magic, by sacrificing something."

Thessa groaned. I wasn't sure if she could hear them talking, but I saw a trail of spittle from the corner of her mouth. The pain had gotten so intense she had lost all sense of time and place. Dried tear trails ran from the corners of her eyes back into her hairline.

"We would never be so foolish as to betray the CMA openly, even though their myriad rules are impractical and impede magic. Only the families that allied with them, like your ancestors and mine, got to continue the line. Everyone else, wiped out." Ricardo's voice was bitter, and he broke the shell of anger with a false laugh. "But a bit of fun, under the table, discreet... You know, it's sort of nice to have someone who appreciates our work."

Winsor's chin jerked up toward Ricardo. His arms crossed against his chest, and his hand disappeared into his sleeve. He was nodding. Although I suspected him of Mallow's kidnapping, I couldn't help but to be appalled. How could he agree to this?

"You can help if you want," Ricardo said. "Help make her beautiful. I heard that you earned high scores when it came to mingling magic, creating new things, at the summer retreat... You always practiced more than we did. The only thing you're not good at is improvising, but we'll buy you the time you need to cast the perfect spell. What do you say Winsor?"