The walls were warping, growing larger and smaller, the path sliding in new directions with every step. There was a high-pitch ring playing endlessly in Rue’s ear. The ceiling was too low. She tried to avoid staring at it, but it pressed lower and lower, demanding to be in sight, in mind. Rue wanted the open sky back.

  “Come back! Rue! Come back!” Viru screamed from down the halls. Rue heard the words, but they didn’t feel meant for her. Someone else could answer her pleas.

  Rue almost missed it.

  Her glove was right where she had dropped it, somehow not hidden away by the living tunnels. It looked too small. Kneeling down, the world rushed and spun harshly. Rue had to catch herself with her hands on the floor to keep from toppling over, but she swayed. After it slowed and settled, she grabbed the glove and forced it back onto her bare hand. There was blood, still wet, upon it. That was more easily ignored.

  “Get the fuck back here!” Viru was screeching now. Rue wondered who she was shouting at.

  She crawled to the wall, twisting to put her back upon it. By some miracle, that wall stopped pulsating, though the one opposite of her was still growing and shrinking, the ceiling repeatedly coming down close enough to threaten to crush her. Nausea rose from her stomach to her throat. Bile rose up, and she managed to aim it to the side, coughing from the burning tingle it left in residual.

  The screaming distantly continued. It grew further away, the hall expanding, growing longer. The orange flicker of flamelight dimmed.

  I want to see the stars, Rue mourned.

  In the dimming light, stars appeared. They floated in front of herself, close enough that she realized she was in the precipice of the sky meeting the outer unknown. She willed herself to fall through that precipice, but her will was not enough to yield the barrier. So she watched, until her breathing slowed and nothing moved around her.

  “Rue?”

  Her eyes opened as the mournful wail found the skies.

  But she wasn’t in the sky. There were no stars. Nothing was moving, the walls and roof of the crypt were exactly in place, as solid and sturdy as ever. Rue looked down to her hands. Both of her gloves were on, her sleeves had dark wet stains. She felt calm, but it was off. Something felt off.

  Viru.

  Rue pushed to her feet, and called out. “I’m coming.” Her voice was strained and it cracked, the words falling short. Clearing her throat several times, she tried again. “I’m coming, Viru.” This time it was loud and clear.

  “Get back here!” Viru wasn’t far even if she had to shout, and her voice sounded strained.

  Rue walked, keeping a hand against the wall, dipping to touch a casket occasionally as the wall opened to the gaps holding them. She reached Viru after a minute of walking. The woman had made it to the wall as well though she was still sitting. Her angry, tired, and scared gaze grappled onto Rue the moment she was in sight.

  “Where the fuck did you go?” The words were spat out.

  Rue didn’t answer, staring at the dead cryptkeeper, hammer sticking out of his face. For just a brief flash, it didn’t look like a scene she had seen before, but it all filled in right after. She had done that. He had found Viru, injured her, and they fought.

  “I thought you had left me. You just walked off,” Viru continued as Rue stayed quiet. “I want to know where you went.”

  Rue finally looked up from the cryptkeeper and stared at Viru.

  “Why aren’t you saying anything? Damn it, say something!” Viru insisted.

  Rue blinked. There was a vision painted on the underside of her eyelids, and it was there only in the time it took to blink.

  Viru, exactly where she was, head turned towards Rue still, but pummeled and caved in with a flagpole hammer handle sticking out, mouth open in a perpetual soundless scream.

  By the time her eyes opened, it was gone. She flinched, startled from the vision. Viru’s face was not caved in, she still lived, but she was covered in blood. Whatever injury she had sustained on her head had bled a lot.

  “What is wrong with you?” Viru snarled. “Are you crazy? Help me get up, now. We need to get out of here.”

  Rue tensed at the harsh tone, followed by a rushing sensation of fragility. “I don’t want to touch you,” she muttered, the excuse feeling weak. She blinked again. The vision was still hiding there, casting the same alternate reality of Viru, dead.

  Viru bared her teeth, showing off sharp, elongated canines. “I don’t care! I can’t stand on my own. I’m not dying down here because you can’t touch a dirty non-human!” She began to push up against the wall, limbs trembling with effort, and one leg sliding under the other in obvious favor. She whimpered involuntarily, one of her arms quickly losing hold, moving to cradle against her side. Rue remembered she had been struck by the cryptkeeper’s staff on her arm.

  “It isn’t ‘cause of that,” Rue said defensively.

  Viru lost traction and hit the ground, panting. Her eyes closed. “I don’t care what it is. I need to get back. Madelon is alone.”

  Rue blinked again, and this time Viru became Madelon. The hammer stuck from her beautiful face, now carved in, blood gleaming against her brown skin and her lips pitched in a warm smile.

  She was gone as quickly as she was there.

  “She isn’t alone,” Rue muttered. “Nassen is there.”

  “Nassen isn’t enough.”

  “I could go get him. He can get you up.”

  “Do you know the way back? No, you don’t, don’t bother to answer me. You useless, dirty, stupid street rat. Fuck. Why did I agree to this?” Viru brought a hand up to touch her forehead, cringing at the painful touch. Wet blood stuck to her fingertips as she brought it away, her eyes opening to stare at it. “I need to wrap my head. I’m still bleeding.”

  Rue wasn’t sure of all that was wrong with Viru, though she could make some strong guesses. She was bleeding from a head injury, and had been for awhile. She must have been quite weak from that alone. She seemed unable to stay on her feet, so a leg must be injured. She had seen the strike against her arm, which didn’t seem incredibly potent, but had affected her enough that she couldn’t put her full weight on the arm.

  Without yet complying to the demand to help her, Rue went to the fallen body instead. She crouched down and drew her dagger from its sheath upon her belt. It took a minute of cutting awkwardly, the blade dull, but she managed to procure a strip of fabric from the man’s robe, now to be a fashioned bandage. She brought it to Viru, who closed her eyes as Rue carefully started to fashion it around her injured head.

  “What’d he do to you?” Rue asked.

  Viru’s mouth tightened. “He snuck up on me. Somehow. Dunno how I didn’t hear him. Kicked my back, and I…I think my head hit the coffin. He started stomping.” She sounded tired, voice hoarse.

  As soon as the bandage was fixed in place, redness started to seep through, in a small pinpoint.

  “I can get the staff for you,” Rue said, going to grab the fallen stick.

  “I need more than that. You need to help me walk.”

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “I can’t,” Rue retorted tightly, putting the staff against the wall beside Viru. Silver eyes looked up, narrowing upon the woman.

  “Why?”

  “I told you.”

  “Why won’t you touch me?”

  “Just use the staff. It’ll work,” Rue insisted. “You can hop with it.”

  “Rue.” There was a strain of pleading that made Rue look again.

  Another blink, and the body once more belonged to Viru. Now it had decayed, trapped in the same spot, left there to rot. Rue shuddered. Her hands furled into fists, relaxed, and furled again. If she left Viru down here, another cryptkeeper could find her. Then the cat could just tell them who was actually responsible for the body. They’d come after her. Viru had to get out, or else.

  “It hurts when I do,” Rue admitted, voice low. “Touchin’ people hurts.”

  She blinked in rapid succession, fighting off the well of emotion that came with saying it. Each time, a further crumbling image of Viru appeared in her vision, rapidly progressing until she was a skeleton.

  Unless…

  “It hurts?” Viru frowned. “I don’t know what you mean by that. Are you–...Are you alright, Rue?” For the first time, she sounded nervous.

  Rue was staring at her. Her expression had changed to something distant and detached. Head tilted to the side, eerily calm and considerate.

  “Huh?” Rue murmured.

  “Is something wrong, Rue?” Her voice took on a commanding tone.

  Rue blinked several times, but didn’t snap out of it. She slowly lowered in front of Viru, crouching to make eye contact. Tense silence held in a mutual stare, the air of the crypt heavy with the scent of tangy death and reek of desolation. Rue removed her gloves, dropping them to the ground beneath her. One hand bloodied, the other clean. Was it clean? Did a glove absolve a hand of crime?

  “That was the first time I’ve killed someone,” Rue said. The words came out and something ran in the back of her mind, trying to tell her that that was untrue. There was another time. There was another time. There was something she was forgetting. It was hiding behind a thin wall, pressing into it, ready to break it down, but it failed. “It didn’t hurt ‘cause I didn’t have to touch him.”

  Viru had gone very still. Every alarm of danger was going off. Her dagger was someone on the ground, out of reach, but she still had claws.

  “Rue,” Viru breathed out, her name tasting brittle, “go find Nassen. Tell him to come get me. Okay? You don’t need to touch me.”

  Rue blinked. She saw a new image of Viru, her head tilting curiously to the side. She looked down at her hands. “I don’t think everyone feels this way when they touch someone. Sometimes it’s like durin’ the dry season, you touch somethin’ metal, and it gives you a quick zap. Only the zap doesn’t stop, and it’s more than your hand, it’s all of you. Sometimes it’s like a burn, like the venom of a snake. Or ice, and it’s tryin’ to freeze your heart. It can be a lotta’ thing. But it always hurts. Usually not that bad. Some people are worse than others.”

  Viru needed to remove her own gloves. It felt like there was a line between them that was ready to snap, and she didn’t know what would preserve it or break it.

  “It’s okay,” she didn’t intend to talk in a whisper, but it came out that way, voice cracking as she said ‘okay’. Viru very lightly cleared her throat. She wanted to scream, but that would certainly break the line. “It’s okay. You don’t have to touch me, Nassen can. You saved me already, that’s enough. You’ve done enough.”

  Rue stared, her words floating in the air. You saved me already. She craned her head, staring at the body. “That’s the first time I’ve killed someone,” she muttered.

  That isn’t the truth. Why aren’t you telling the truth?

  Rue’s brows furrowed. What was she forgetting? She was forgetting something important. A trembling Viru brought her hands in front of herself, struggling to pull a glove off, taking advantage of Rue’s turned hand. She needed her clawed fingers out.

  Rue caught the movement. It was as if she could smell the desperate fear. Her head swiveled back, staring at the hand as it came out, the claws that pushed out from their retraction. The line snapped. Both of Rue’s hands snapped out and grabbed Viru’s neck. Her face didn’t move that much, apart from her eyes widening as her bare hands connected against the fur, partly soft, partly wet, partly crusted, from blood.

  “Get off! Get off, get off of me!” Viru screamed, her instincts reacting duly to the danger perceived and met. Her clawed hand grappled onto Rue’s side, slicing through clothing and landing into her side. Her other hand shoved at Rue’s face, pushing back against her. Rue appeared utterly possessed, her grasp iron.

  It was a pain she had felt before. One that was rare, but not unknown. The pain that Viru gave her was white-hot fire. How could soft fur burn like this? Fire should be so much more obvious. Her hands burned and screamed and begged to release, but she wouldn’t. The pain burned up through her arms, up her neck, into her mouth, releasing a plume of ash onto her tongue. It coursed down, into her heart and into her lungs, setting everything aflame; further down, through her intestines, her organs, fire rushing without abandon into her bladder, her womb, jumping to her legs, racing to her toes.

  I lied, I lied, I lied, I lied.

  Thoughts raced, her jade green eyes latched upon Viru’s face. Her mouth was open, jaw swinging open and shut. Was she trying to scream? No sound came out for some reason. She may have been trying to bite. Rue’s hands tightened around Viru’s neck, struggling to keep a hold of her as she fought. Pressure and shadows kept striking her face. Some corner of Rue’s mind realized Viru was striking her, but she couldn’t feel it.

  She could only feel the fire.

  There was something else.

  The fire was in full rage, strong enough to raze a forest down in minutes, but there was something inside of it. She just had to look.

  So she did.

  New pains erupted within the fire. It was a wonder the fire didn’t drown them out. Her hand was throbbing, erupting frequently with strained jolts. It felt broken. But she had to keep using it; she couldn’t let go. Then there was her leg; both were kicking out and fighting. There was a nauseating swelling around her ankle. Not broken, but horribly twisted and useless, hot pain that would persist even if it was left unbothered. Her sides ached, ribs protesting against breaths, some odd spots upon her back joining in the efforted pain. Worst of all was the weakness. How much blood had she lost? She was tired. She didn’t want to die. She was so scared. She was crying.

  The pain was…It was getting better.

  The fire was starting to lose fuel. The pain was lessening. There was a new sensation, Rue realized, a deep dwelling in her chest, lungs ready to burst. She wanted nothing more than to take a desperate breath, but she was growing so weak.

  I can’t give up. I have to keep fighting.

  She held on. The pain that was everywhere was fading faster and faster. The fire was going low so quickly; could fire die so fast? Where was the heat going?

  It started draining out. Growing smaller until, just like that, it was only against her palms. Rue felt like she was going to pass out from lack of air. She struggled and fought for a single breath. She was so tired. Just one breath, just one…Just…

  Rue gasped a hard breath in, head bursting and swimming. She blinked rapidly, utterly disoriented, realizing she could breathe just fine. There was no fire. There was no pain. Her arm didn’t hurt; her leg didn’t hurt; her side was in pain, but not like before. She didn’t feel weak, not at all. Rue blinked. She suddenly found Viru opposite of her, her neck attached to her hands. Her head was hanging limp to the side, silver eyes glossed over. She was still.

  Rue dropped her hands and fell back, staring at the woman.

  That’s the first time I’ve killed someone.

  The thought ignited harsh buzzing in the back of her head, situated just behind her ears.

  “Stop lying,” Rue muttered to herself. She tried to suck a breath in through her nose and found it stuffed. With a swipe of her hands, she found her cheeks were wet with tears. So were Viru’s cheeks, her fur darkened with the lines of wetness. Rue became aware then, between her own legs, a hot wet stain. She had peed herself. There was a flash of humiliation, but there wasn’t anyone here to witness it.

  Viru’s hands were on her lap. The ungloved one was stained red on the tips of her claws. Rue checked her side, finding herself gouged by claws. It was bleeding, but it wasn’t anything fatal. She reached out and gently touched Viru’s hand. There was no fire. The woman was blissfully silent, externally and internally. She was at peace. It must hurt to have such a raging fire burning inside. Rue withdrew her hand. There was nothing else remaining here. She needed to go. It felt as if the air were made of sand, and it had pooled inside of her mind. Somehow, she had the reason to fish through Viru’s pockets. She found the note inside of one, with the torn edges from where she had given Rue part of it. It had been folded carefully. She tucked it into her own pocket.

  In another, she found a set of rings, and a small statuette that fit in her palm. It was a faded, old looking green stone. The findings were placed in her pocket with the other goods.

  Rue stood and turned. She startled back at the sight of the dead man behind her, staring at it, brain racing to keep up. Another body?

  This wasn’t the first time I’ve killed someone.

  It didn’t feel right, but it didn’t feel wrong. Both of those here, she had killed them both, hadn’t she? It wasn’t the first time.

  Rue shook her head, running her fingers over her scalp, down her hair. Her fingers were bare. She needed her gloves.

  I dropped my glove.

  They were at her feet. The walls remained in place. The ceiling didn’t press low. When she blinked, the vision on the inside of her eyelids was gone. She missed the stars.