RED

Panic slithered through me as the fish men swarmed, their webbed fingers groping, prodding, touching and testing.

"Please," I gasped, backing up against a slimy chest. "I can't —"

An arm lashed out, pushing the scaly monsters back. Their faces were melting, scales dropping to the ground like pine needles in a gale, pattering on the floor. Some of them gurgled with pain, others with excitement as one by one, the river nymph's curse melted away and they regained their true forms.

"Give the girl some room!" the man boomed, clearing a circle around me. I blinked in stupor at his stark nakedness; lycans were a brazen sort, but my most recent company relished privacy. "Are you daft? She saved your bloody lives, the least you could do is give her some bloody room."

I'd never met the man before, but there was something instinctively appealing about his flashing eyes and rugged beard, as if they somehow guaranteed that I would be provided for, that there would always be a roof over my head and wood to feed the fire should we ever share a home.

The others were just as distracting. I didn't know where to look as tens upon tens of men materialised before my eyes, all breathtakingly beautiful, all naked as the day they were brought into this world. One of them winked at me, and I quickly realised the only safe place to look was up, so I craned my neck back to avoid any misconceptions of interest on my part.

Once their boisterous cheering had settled into a steady murmur, the first man raised his hand for silence. It was slow to come, excited as they were to use the tongues they'd long been denied, but eventually everyone was looking to their leader for direction. I dared to do the same, pointedly ignoring the intense staring from those less inclined to keep their desires in check.

"Long have we awaited this day," he said. "To whom do we owe our thanks?"

"Uh..." I cleared my throat, feeling crippling self-conscious. For the first time I wished I had a different name; one that somebody had chosen for me, not out of obligation, but because it meant something to them. "Red. My name is Red."

Another round of cheers. The leader bowed deeply, and I noted the salt and pepper weaving through his tangled locks. "On behalf of the harem, I, Halbrom, thank you for your intervention. Some of us have been trapped in servitude for centuries."

I offered him a hesitant smile. It was an uneasy thing to be in a room full of strange men, with all of their eyes upon me. "I'm glad I was able to help."

"How can we return the favour?" he asked gruffly, dropping to his knees.

When I saw his eyes were wet with tears, I realised he had probably been a simple woodsman, once upon a time; come down to the river to wash his hands when something grabbed him without warning, just as it had grabbed me. I couldn't be sure which of them had done it, but I couldn't blame them. Nalia had changed the very fabric of their being, moulded them to serve her irregardless of their own desires. She had been so desperately, pathetically lonely that she'd tortured and imprisoned countless men when one of them might have fallen in love and come willingly under different circumstances.

"I need to get out of here," I said, pointing at the ceiling of the cave. "Back up there, where my friends are."

Halbrom scratched his beard. "We can't go through the water without our gills, but I do know a way through the underground caves. I, for one, will gladly escort you to the Above."

"Aye!" shouted the rest, in a chorus of assent.

"What about yer lad?" another man asked. "Ye sure ye don't wanna wait for 'im?"

I shook my head. "The longer I wait, the more likely he is to drown himself trying to get down here. Better to save myself and catch him by surprise."

"If ye say so," he said under his breath, catching the attention of the group edging towards the mouth of the cave. "Have you louts forgotten your manners? Ladies first, so she doesn't have to look at your sorry worms!"

The laughter was contagious, and soon the cave network was ringing with it, the walls sending it back and forth until it petered out into a roar just as steady as the water. My cheeks warmed as I made my way to the head of the group, but this time it was the whispered thanks and bowed heads that made me feel self conscious.

Walking into the darkest part of the cave, I felt like I could already see the light at the end of the tunnel.

It didn't take long for my tension to ease. The darkness yielded readily to the glow-worm lamps that marked the trail, and while the path was narrow and difficult at times, there was a sense of camaraderie that propelled me along it, even when we had to wade chest-deep through icy water. Strong hands pulled me up onto the ledge every time and not a single one lingered.

Nalia's harem was curious about the events that led me to their doorstep, but once I mentioned Gretchen's apple crumble and that it was the best I'd ever tasted, they launched into a heated debate about whose mother or wife or son could make it better. Dennis, a long-haired man who'd been quiet and aloof up until that point, launched into a passionate tirade about the proper techniques for coring apples, leveraging his experience as a cook to persuade the others. Once they started debating the finer measurements of spice — everyone seemed to agree that nutmeg, cinnamon and sugar was key, but how much of each was a contentious point — I tuned out and fell back to the middle of the party, enjoying various snatches of boisterous bickering.

They were monsters no longer, simply people who'd been trapped in the dark for too long. Their conversations were fascinatingly mundane as they discussed their plans for the future and who they hoped to reunite with. For many, there was no telling how much time had passed, if their families and kingdoms even existed anymore. Some knew that they'd come from loving homes, but the specifics were foggy, lost to the low, hypnotising roar of water over the years. Some had been beasts for so long that they struggled to speak at all.

And then there were those who could barely recall their own names. Those shades flocked to Halbrom in droves, as if so used to being told what to do that they craved the structure he afforded their lives.

Some of the men whispered and looked at me over their shoulders, dark eyes full of reproach. I could only assume they had come to love their master, in their own desperate, twisted way. It was unnerving to be the subject of their disapproval, but I was surrounded by enough grateful admirers that I felt safe to ignore their murderous stares, just as I had growing up in the Blood Moon village.

I prayed to the Earth Mother to watch over all of the men, even those who craved the structure of their bonds. I asked Her to provide them with plentiful food and shelter, so that they might start their lives afresh and find peace. I didn't hear anything back, but I could have sworn I felt a vibration in the stone beneath my feet, the slightest of tremors, as if in acknowledgement.

"I saw what you did," sounded a low voice. I flinched as someone fell into step beside me, looking up quickly to assess what my instincts insisted was a threat.

The man was broad shouldered and towered over the others, with a tangled mane of honey-blonde hair and a rugged beard. While the curse had left a psychological mark on all of the men, it hadn't atrophied anyone's muscles, and this man looked fit enough to wrestle with a bear and win.

"What do you mean?" I asked, playing dumb. Better that than to give away any personal information he hadn't clued into yet.

Stooping his head and lowering his voice, he said: "You wielded Rya's Blessing to break the curse. I haven't seen it resurface in nearly a century."

Who knew how long ago he'd been taken? "That must have been exciting for you."

"A sight for sore eyes," he admitted. "Which clan do you hail from again?"

"Clan?" I asked, furrowing my brow. The Blood Moon Pack occasionally referred to themselves as a tribe, but... "Oh! You're a wyvern."

He arched a bushy brow. "I take it you're not, then."

"Guilty as charged," I said, chuckling as he fell into step beside me. "I have a friend, though, from somewhere in the Grey Fist Mountains. She seems to think otherwise."

"May I ask why?"

What was the harm in opening up a little? He was clearly intrigued, but maintained a respectful distance and tone as we walked. I forced myself to relax, to enjoy the rare occasion of a handsome man's undivided attention. The kindness in his eyes set him apart from the crowd of fanatics; it almost made me feel normal.

"I was raised by lycans, but they lied to me about having a heart condition and fed me poison under the guise of medicine," I said. "So what I am is anyone's guess."

His brows flew up. I chuckled.

"It's a lot, I know. My friend suspects I'm a wyvern, one of the stolen hatchlings from eighteen years ago, and that I was spared a trip to the Hidden Vale because of my power."

That much, at least, was true; I wasn't a lycan, but Nya had tried to chain my soul to Hunter's, presumably in a bid to wield Rya's Blessing Herself.

Or to prevent it from resurfacing at all.

"But you don't know how to shift," he summed up, with a pitying expression. "I mourn that you have not known the feeling of wind beneath your wings."

I mourned it too, but to hear somebody else say it made my blood simmer. It was beyond petty, but I wanted to be an object of admiration and desire, not pity. "I'm open to ideas," I said tightly.

He chuckled, and I felt my tension unravel at the sound. It was was nice to feel confident in what somebody else was feeling, for once.

"I'll show you once we escape this cursed mountain. I, for one, have been looking forward to stretching my wings for a long time."

"That would be lovely," I said. "What was your name again?"

"Solas," he said, offering me a hand to shake. "But you can call me Sol."

"Nice to meet you, Sol," I said, grasping his hand — at least, I tried to. It was swallowed almost instantly by his meaty paw.

His grin split even wider. "Likewise."

A gradual shift in the grey tones of the underground river caught my attention. "Do you see that?"

"See what?"

"The light," I explained, hastening my step. "I think we're getting close to the exit!"

Sol frowned and squinted, but I'd always had excellent night vision. "Whatever you say, dear."

It was beyond satisfying to prove him wrong when two minutes later, somebody at the head of the party cried: "The sun! I can see the sun!"

My smug satisfaction was short lived. The procession bunched and swelled in an angry wave, crashing through the tunnel as men started scrambling for the exit. All thoughts of dignity and civility were forgotten in their desperate bid for daylight, if only to prove that this wasn't some kind of sick and elaborate trick on their late master's behalf. Somebody screamed as they were pulled under, trampled by the stampede, only for the sound to cut short as abruptly as it began.

"Sol!" I shrieked, reaching back.

"Red!" he shouted, surging forward.

His fingers brushed mine, only to be yanked away.

People pressed closer, crushing me between them. Shoulders drove into my back and elbows caught my face. I kept my arms close to my chest, trying to push outward, but they were too strong — too desperate — and my arms were forced back, driving the air from my lungs. It was hot and sticky and vile. I tried to move with the crowd, to keep my head up, but they were so tall, and I was so dizzy...

Something soft gave way beneath my boot and I slipped, going under.