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Her escort had given her his back, but a wandering guildmember could have stumbled upon her. All she could think was,I just wanted to go to bed.

Emerie was exhausted. Her head, heart, and body ached, and she wanted nothing more than to collapse onto her bed and pass out.

Once she was fully dressed, including her face coverings, she was escorted down the mountain fortress. Her brows deeply furrowed in uncertainty when she was taken to the dungeon just below ground level.

She wasn’t told why she was being brought here, only that Wren had ordered it.

When she saw the Duskwalker strapped to the table, surrounded by Wren, two other Elders, and one of the guild doctors, she hesitated to enter. She was gently pushed inside, despite her frozen feet.

She hadn’t trusted the device he currently lay upon. Although it appeared like a table, it was actually a device that could be pivoted so it could turn upright. She’d seen it before, although only in passing when they’d first given her a tour of Zagros Fortress.

Attached to a metal board was a triangular frame that was anchored to a rotating gear. Those gears locked into place to hold the table position, but could be released so the imprisoned subject could be pivoted into a standing position, or in the case of the gigantic Duskwalker, a kneeling one. That secondary gear was then attached to another triangular frame that had been bolted to the ground by pins for security.

A wheel crank on both sides controlled the positions, and required the strength of multiple people to turn it, depending on the weight of the subject strapped to it.

It had been designed for medium-sized Demons. The reason for its creation had been unknown to Emerie – until now.

Horror befell her features, hidden behind her mask, when they began to cut the Duskwalker open... while it wasalive. While it screamed, roared, and jangled its chains to escape.

The doctor was eventually able to examine inside its cracked-open chest cavity after using bolt cutters, hammers, and other heavy tools to get into it. It was bloody, disgusting, and felt so wrong, so immoral, that bile rose in her throat.

Even her eyes watered in sympathy for the Duskwalker, threatening to spill every time he yelped, and even more so when he whimpered.

“Why are you doing this while it’s alive?” Emerie finally blurted in outrage. “The least you could have done was give it the mercy of death before you began playing with its damn insides!”

Wren cast her a knowing look, one that said she’d predicted Emerie would react this way. “Because they don’t die. I thought that would have been made obvious to you after tonight’s events.”

“This...” Her hand fisted at her side. “This is wrong. We shouldn’t be doing this.”

She wished she had known this was why Wren brought her here. It would have given her the opportunity to deny the order. And she would have. Down to the pit of her soul, she would have denied it – no matter the repercussions.

“I must admit, it is easier to watch this when it’s the corpse of a Demon.” Then Wren faced her, giving Emerie all her attention. “However, this is something that needs to be done. Just like the Demons we’ve been forced to cut open, we need to know how they are made, why they are so much stronger than us. We need to learn how to kill them. I refuse to not seek answers when they lie before me.”

Emerie’s eyes tightly clenched shut at a particularly hollowing sound that came from the Duskwalker being tortured. The squelching of blood and muscle between fingers made her vision split in two from disgust.

Her voice was weakening, growing croaked and hoarse. “I still can’t get past how cruel this is.”

“Do you know how many Demons have wanted inside our keeps, using tricks, asking for false mercy, only to turn on the very humans that let them inside? None of these monsters deserve a shred of your pity.” Wren then stepped closer with a commanding gait, and lifted her chin superiorly when she was barely a foot away. “I have decided that I will begin training you to take over my position when I die, or when I am too old to be of use anymore. This is the start of that training.”

“Why me?” Emerie asked. “There are other members who would be far better at it. Those that have perfected all weaponry and trades.”

“Because it’s not a sword that leads, but a mind. You are smart and have saved members of your teams time and time again by using unorthodox methods. This choice wasn’t made lightly.”

With her eyes drifting over to the poor creature, Emerie confidently stated, “If this is the cost of obtaining your position, then I sincerely don’t want it.”

Wren sighed and shook her head. “You will learn to be desensitized to it, as I was. I’ll forgive any transgressions for now.”

Emerie wished she hadn’t been looking at the Duskwalker when they pulled its still beating and attached purple heart from his chest. It looked mushy and weird, with black veins.

She pulled down her mask, spun to the furthest wall right next to the door, and proceeded to violently vomit.I can’t.Emerie didn’t have a weak stomach. She wasn’t usually squeamish or queasy from staring at the insides of another creature.

If she could have crawled out of her skin and disintegrated, it would have happened the moment the Duskwalker let out a harrowing squeal.

“Well, it’s definitely a male.”

Emerie heaved again, harder than before, having to place her hand against the wall to steady herself. Acidic liquid splattered against the ground between her boots.

This is disgusting. Nothing deserves this torture. I don’t care what it is... it – he – doesn’t deserve this. It doesn’t matter what he’s done, who he’s eaten. It’s wrong.