The heat emanating from the blind Boitatá was like that of a furnace. Its scales crackled, and the air around it shimmered, distorted by the intense heat. It writhed, directing its incandescent body toward Carlos, who was backing away with nowhere to run. The beast's intention was clear: to carbonize him right there, without ceremony.
But at the exact moment the Boitatá prepared to release a concentrated wave of fire, a slender figure dressed in ashes materialized beside it. It was Spectro, moving like smoke. With a precise motion, he hurled a heavy, round iron grenade directly into the monster's open maw, which was still bellowing in pain and fury.
The grenade rolled down the Boitatá's throat before detonating with a deafening, wet BANG! Shards of scale, flesh, and bone flew in all directions, and the creature's head simply disintegrated. The body, still incandescent, thrashed for a few moments before falling heavily onto the concrete, reverting to its original form of a man.
Meanwhile, Shadow, taking advantage of Nyran's distraction as she watched her ally's death in horror, emerged from a shadow near her feet. He launched a spear of solid darkness that pierced the woman's leg.
She screamed, falling to one knee. In the same fraction of a second, Carlos, even with his painful hands, found a spark of determination. He raised the revolver with difficulty, aimed, and pulled the trigger. The shot hit Nyran's other arm, which was already clutching her leg wound. The impact threw her backward, and her head hit the concrete with a dry thud, knocking her unconscious.
A heavy silence seemed to fall over the road, broken only by the crackling of the dying Boitatá's fire.
"I think... it's over?" Carlos panted, letting the revolver slip from his burned fingers.
"Not so fast," Shadow warned, his voice grave once more.
A new sound echoed in the night: the heavy, ghostly clatter of hooves on concrete. From the darkness of a side street, a terrifying figure emerged. It was a Headless Mule, its neck ending in a flaming stump, and on its back, an Iara with hair as green as algae and eyes that shone like moons. Before anyone could react, the Iara opened her mouth and began to sing.
The melody was hypnotic, sweet and penetrating, entering the minds of the present men like a delicious poison. The eyes of Amadi, who was still clutching his bleeding stump, glazed over. Those of other Quilombo warriors who had arrived also lost focus, their weapons lowering as they were pulled into a dangerous trance.
"Do not listen to the song!" Shadow shouted, covering his own ears, but the magic wasn't entirely blockable.
From afar, on top of the apartments, Whisper watched the scene through the scope of a precision rifle—a "sniper," as Carlos had taught her to call it. The weapon was cold and heavy in her hands, an instrument of death she was still learning to master. She took a deep breath, controlling her pulse, as Carlos had instructed her.
One shot, one life. Take out the biggest threat first, she remembered his words.
She aimed carefully, her heart pounding against her ribs. The crosshairs aligned with the Headless Mule's torso. She held her breath and gently squeezed the trigger.
The CRACK! of the shot echoed against the building's facade. The high-caliber bullet pierced the air and struck the monster in the shoulder, making it stumble and fall sideways with the noise of a wounded animal. The Iara was thrown from its back, her song cut abruptly. The enchantment weighing down the men broke instantly. They blinked, looking around confused, as if waking from a nightmare.
"Now, Specter!" Shadow ordered.
Specter, already in motion, threw another grenade in a perfect arc. The device landed precisely between the two fallen monsters. The subsequent explosion was short and devastating, silencing the Iara and the Mule forever.
Whisper, relieved, with her eye still in the scope. Her ears rang from the sound. She looked through the sniper lens, scanning the night sky for other threats. It was then that she saw it: a falcon, flying too high, with a golden glow inside it.
So it's you, she thought, a chill running down her spine. You're the one guiding the reinforcements here, showing them the way... Sorry, but I'm going to put an end to that.
It was an almost impossible shot, but she had to try. She filled her lungs, aimed at that point of golden light in the dark sky, and pulled the trigger.
The shot echoed, but the bird, as if sensing the danger, veered sharply. The bullet only tore out a handful of feathers. However, the scare was enough. The falcon, realizing it had been discovered, dove toward the ground like a missile, flying toward the wolf-girl who was still unconscious near the other warriors who had gathered around her.
All the Quilombo warriors prepared, weapons ready, to receive the new threat. But what happened next left them paralyzed.
Upon landing softly beside the girl, the falcon began to transform. Its feathers retracted, its wings shrank, and in seconds, where there had once been a majestic bird, there was now a boy. A skinny boy, no more than ten years old, with golden eyes full of tears.
He knelt, protecting his sister's body with his own.
"Please!" he shouted, his childish voice laden with a heart-wrenching desperation. "Please, don't hurt my sister anymore! We surrender! We won't attack anymore, I swear! You can do whatever you want with me, but... but please, don't hurt her!"
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The scene was heartbreaking. The most hardened warriors exchanged hesitant glances, their weapons lowering slightly.
It was then that Specter, moving without making a single sound, appeared behind the boy. Without ceremony, but also without excessive brutality, he delivered a precise blow with the hilt of his dagger to the back of the boy's neck. The boy's eyes widened for an instant before closing, and he fainted, falling softly beside his sister.
"Better this way," Specter murmured, looking at the children's inert bodies. "Sleeping is better than seeing what comes next."
***
A soft, white light. That was the first stimulus. Next came the clean, antiseptic smell of alcohol and soap. The boy opened his eyes, heavy and gritty, and looked at a white, smooth, immaculate ceiling made of a material he had never seen.
Where was he? The memory returned like a blow: the battle, the escape, the transformation, the plea, and then... darkness.
"SILVANA!" he screamed, sitting up suddenly in the bed, an absolute panic seizing his small body.
He looked frantically from side to side. The room was large, with several beds. And then, he saw her. On the other side, in a bed identical to his, he recognized the little black wolf ears, now clean and tranquil, sticking out from a head resting on the pillow.
Relieved, he tried to jump out of bed to run to her, but a robust nurse with an impeccable white apron interposed herself in his path.
"Hey, hey, calm down, young man!" she said in a firm but not unpleasant voice. "No running and no shouting, this is a hospital. Your sister is fine, but she's sleeping. And sleep is the best medicine. You need to rest too."
The boy, panting, stared at her with frightened eyes.
"She... she's just sleeping?" he asked, his voice trembling. "You swear?"
The nurse crossed her arms, making a more serious face.
"I can guarantee it, the doctor himself treated her with the healing gem. Now, get back into your bed. You used too much mana, your body needs to recover. Come on, lie down."
Hearing that, a long, deep sigh escaped his lungs, as if he had been holding his breath since he woke up. The tension in his shoulders lessened a bit.
"Okay, ma'am," he murmured, obeying and lying down again.
He was silent for a minute, looking at the ceiling, before speaking again, his voice small and hesitant.
"And... and you're not going to kill us?"
The nurse stopped what she was doing and looked at him. Her face lost some of its sternness.
"That, I don't know, child. Chief Carlos decides that," she said, lowering her voice. "But, between us, he was pretty angry with Specter for hitting you. Carlos has a soft spot for kids, always says dangerous work is for adults. But..." she added, a warning in her eyes, "...that will depend a lot on whether you killed anyone from our people..."
She offered no further explanation. She gave a gentle pat on his foot through the sheet and left the room, leaving him with his thoughts and the soft sound of his sister's breathing.
"Good for you, Silvestre."
The voice came from the next bed. The boy jumped and turned his head. He hadn't noticed Nyran lying there, her arms and legs bandaged, her face pale but her eyes alert.
"Auntie!" he exclaimed, a mix of relief and surprise. "You're alive! I thought they had killed you!"
Nyran made a slight grimace. The title "Auntie" was clearly not to her liking.
"I am alive..." she replied dryly. "But I don't know for how long. I was weak. I chose the losing side."
The boy pouted, his eyes welling up with tears again.
"Don't cry for me," Nyran said, her voice a little softer. "You should be worried about your sister. Tell me something... by any chance, did she kill anyone from the Quilombo?"
The boy wiped the stubborn tears with the back of his hand and shook his head vehemently.
"No! Never!" he whispered urgently. "She only scared people who got too close, and fought warriors when she was attacked. She hurt some, yes, she did that, but I swear by Ogum she never, ever killed anyone!"
A slight, bitter smile appeared on Nyran's lips, both to calm the boy and to try and soothe her own conscience.
"Good. I've heard this Carlos is a just Chief. He probably won't harm you... at least that's what my friend Tassi always said about him," she said. "Just tell the truth. Say you had no choice but to work for Caetano."
Silvestre, calmer now, spoke with a sudden fire:
"Auntie, they have to let you live too! You're a good person! You're the one who saved us from that cruel plantation mistress! She had killed our older brother... and you rescued us!"
Nyran shook her head, denying it.
"No. I didn't save you. You saved yourselves," she corrected, her gaze losing focus as if replaying the scene. "Even as children, you managed to escape that hag's house on your own. I just found you in the middle of the forest. And I saw... potential."
"We just got lucky!" the boy insisted. "We tried to kill the plantation owner, you know? We put a pillow over her face while she slept, but she woke up and started screaming. Then we ran. We ran so far, without shoes, through the bush, with the dogs chasing us..." his voice grew hoarse with the memory. "We hid in a cave and were too scared to come out, we almost starved to death. But then you came. You gave us food... and a job."
Nyran shook her head again.
"I only saw the strength you had, besides you were already surviving on your own by hunting, you just weren't eating as well as before. I saw your courage," she said, and then her face grew dark. "But I didn't free you. I just changed your owner... to Caetano."
She looked at the furry ears of the sleeping girl.
"And then, you were forced to be test subjects for that transformation gem..." she murmured, with a hint of guilt. "And since she was the first... she became this half-beast, half-human thing."
"No!" the boy shook his head vehemently. "It was that disgusting old man, Caetano's alchemist, who did that! You didn't know! You're innocent!"
Nyran sighed deeply, as if carrying the weight of the world.
"Alright. But that's enough talking. You used too much mana too. Rest."
"But I'm not sleepy!" he complained, yawning the very same instant.
Despite his protest, within minutes, the physical and emotional exhaustion overcame him, and a soft, regular snore filled the room.
As soon the sound of the boy's sleep settled, Nyran spoke to the apparent emptiness, her voice low and tired.
"You can show yourself, Shadow. Now you know the whole story. These children are innocent. They don't deserve to be punished for Caetano's crimes... nor for mine."
From the deep shadow under her bed, Shadow materialized silently, as if made from the darkness itself.
"Indeed," he commented, his tone inexpressive. "You're much more sensitive to sensing auras than you appear. More than Tassi, I'd say."
Nyran ignored the comment, keeping her gaze fixed on the tranquil face of the wolf-girl.
"So... when is my execution?" she asked with resigned calm. "Ah, of course. You healed me so I could tell you everything I know about Caetano, right? Fine. I have no more reasons to protect him. I can talk without any problems."
