Dr. Starkey waved her broom in sweeping arcs, trying to shoo Flynn out the door. She didn’t see the dark form slinking mere inches from her feet. Flynn dodged her strikes, rolling to the side and weaving around her legs in a frantic attempt to slow her down and buy a moment to reach his brother. But his efforts came too late. The shadowy creature reached Rusty first, dissipating into a swirling vapor and vanishing into his open mouth and flaring nostrils.

Rusty jolted upright, like a puppet yanked by invisible strings. His eyes, empty and black as a starless abyss, swept over the surrounding chaos and destruction. Then, he rose to his feet and began to march. As I tracked his course, I realized where he was heading: straight for the small table where Alan had left the black stones.

“Stop him!” I ordered. 

Lee stepped in front of Rusty, a snarl escaping him, his fangs bared in a vicious display. 

“Don’t hurt him!” Flynn’s plea rang out.

But Lee wasn’t the one to draw first blood. Rusty ran up the side of the canine, his wiry body a blur, and latched onto Lee’s back. The dog spun wildly, twisting and bucking, but Rusty held fast. His claws tangled in Lee’s fur, and then he lunged for an ear, sinking his teeth deep.

The dog let out a piercing, anguished cry. The rat thrashed his head, tearing a piece of flesh with its furious motion. Then Rusty leapt off his back and scurried out of sight.

Lee stumbled to the wall, his body shaking and whimpering as he leaned against it. Blood trickled from the torn edge of his left ear.  

“Good God! That rat’s rabid!” Dr. Starkey exclaimed, crouching beside Lee to inspect the wound. “It’s done a real number on his ear.”  

Then, her tone changed. Action replaced concern. She rose to her full height and spun on her heel, gripping the broom with white-knuckled force, her eyes searching around the room for her target.  

I saw him first. Rusty was climbing up the leg of the small table, clawing his way closer to the black stones. I bolted forward, but I didn’t get far. A strong hand clamped onto the back of my neck and yanked me back.  

Alan lifted me off the ground and shoved me into the cage, slamming the door shut. 

Let me out! You've now idea what you're up against! But my words fell on her human deaf ears. 

“It's going to be alright, Page,” she said, soothingly. “We'll be heading back home soon. So, try to relax.”

Relax?! I couldn't relax. I just couldn’t! Pacing the cramped enclosure, my thoughts whirled, frantically seeking an escape. All I could do was press my face to the small window, and watch the scene: 

Rusty had climbed onto the table, his outstretched fingers brushing against one of the black stones. A low hum resonated as the device began to glow a soft green light. His hands moved rapidly over its surface. He leaned into it whispering into its glow. As he worked, Flynn advanced from behind. He wrapped his arms around Rusty’s neck and pulled him back. 

Rusty wrenched himself from Flynn’s hold and swung a wild punch at him, missing only by a whisker as Flynn nimbly dodged. The two collided again, a flurry of claws raking and teeth snapping inches apart. Just when it seemed Rusty was about to gain the upper hand, the vet swept the broom forcefully across the table. The blow sent both rats tumbling to the floor, their fight abruptly broken.

Groaning, Flynn struggled to lift himself from the floor, his injured leg bending unnaturally beneath him, forcing him to collapse again with a grimace of pain. Meanwhile, Rusty, unshaken, calmly brushed the dust from his fur and began stalking forward, his black soulless eyes zeroing on Flynn. Before he could strike, Lee’s powerful jaws snapped around Rusty’s tail. With a fierce shake, he hurled the rat aside, sending him crashing into an overturned shelf. 

The blow seemed to barely faze the rat. He rose again, shaking off the impact as if it were nothing. His cold, black eyes remained locked on Flynn, who was still struggling to get up on his feet. Slowly and purposefully, Rusty moved toward him, closing in for the kill. 

Marlow emerged from behind the fallen shelf, his hands steady as they gripped the razor blade. There was no hesitation when he swung, the blade arcing through the air and biting deep into the nape of Rusty’s neck. Rusty let out a strangled cry and staggered forward, landing on all fours as a shudder rippled through his body.  

Marlow didn’t stop. He swung the blade again.

“Nooooo!” Flynn let out a heart-wrenching scream filled with such anguish that even I felt the sting of his pain in my chest. He watched in helpless horror and devastation, fully aware he was powerless to stop the Wise Keeper.

I’d seen brutality before—had even participated in it. Catching rats, tearing them apart, it was instinctual, something excusable in the natural order of things. But this was something else entirely.  

Blow after blow rained down, scattering dark flecks of blood across the floor, until, at last, the head severed completely from the body. It rolled to a stop at Flynn’s feet, its glassy eyes staring into nothingness. The wraith was now gone. 

Marlow stood there, breath ragged and chest heaving, the blade slipping from his grip to the blood-streaked floor. His gaze fell upon Rusty's headless body, his face crumbling with sorrow and regret. 

“I’m sorry,” he started to say, a tremor shaking his voice as he spoke. “But there was no other way… No Soul Cleanser, no chance to bring him back to the nest safely. Nothing else could have saved him. Nothing…”  

“Filthy rats!” Dr. Starkey shouted, thrusting the broom at Marlow. With forceful jabs, she drove him out the opening flap of the tarp sheet that served as the door. Spinning on her heel, she turned her attention to Flynn. She shoved him toward the exit next. He stumbled, his limp worsening as the broom's bristles nudged him out.  

Meanwhile, Alan knelt beside Rusty’s body, her expression troubled as she examined the bloody scene. “That was… strange,” she said. “Why would a rat attack another rat, much less use a razor blade to decapitate it?”  

Dr. Starkey sighed, shaking her head. “The rats have been acting crazier than usual lately. My advice? Stay away from rat vendors. You never know what you’re getting.”

Dropping the broom, the vet gathered Lee in her arms, his trembling body fragile against her steady grip. Soft, pitiful whimpers escaped him, and blood continued to trickle from his wounded ear, staining her white sleeve with thin, red streaks. She strode toward the pile of cages—once a neatly stacked tower, now a scattered mess from Lee’s earlier antics. Carefully, she eased him into one and clicked the door shut.  

“And what’s the plan for the dog?” Alan asked. 

“I'll have to take a good look at his ear and fix him right up,” Dr. Starkey replied matter-of-factly. “And then it's off to the Shelter for the both of them.”

“Both of them?”

Dr. Starkey's eyebrow shot up as she gestured toward the incredible mess around them. “Yes, both,” she snapped. “Just look at what they’ve done! They’ve wrecked my home, and now, to make matters worse, there are rats crawling about!”

Alan’s eyes hardened, and she shook her head. “You can take the dog but not Page,” she said firmly. “He’s coming back with me.”

“I don’t think that’s wise,” the vet cautioned. “He could be infected. If you take him back, you risk spreading it on the ship. It’s safer to isolate him in the Shelter and monitor his condition.”

Alan and I locked eyes through the tiny window of the cage. Don’t let her take me to the Shelter, I pleaded. 

“He seems fine now,” Alan said evenly. “Look at him—he’s much calmer. And his eyes… they were black before but now they've turned back to normal.”

Dr. Starkey’s wide brown eyes narrowed as she leaned closer, scrutinizing me through the window. I swallowed back the hiss rising in my throat. She had wanted to cut me open! And now, she wanted to dump me in that dreaded Shelter.

“Well, fine,” she said after a pause, shrugging dismissively. “Your call. But if you take him back, it’s on you if something happens.”