Loge sends the girls and Enceladus away from the door. She waves them bye, while the old rat approaches Pan and whispers away all the questions burdening on his mind. Pan answers with nods of his head.
The old rat is worried, but for now, he has some good news to share.
***
'Pandora, we need to head back for supper!' Cries Dione while trying to hold back Pandora's determined approach onwards along the narrow streets of the city.
'Not before all of Hasper's boys get smarter!' She pulls Dione onwards with her, and Pallene and Bergelmir can only raise their shoulders and follow the two through the dark, grimy, and narrow passage to the courtyard of an abandoned city block. Not far from being but a derelict pile of rubble, the place belongs to Hasper's little gang, it is the centre of their dominion. It is where they have gathered in secret. Where Pandora intents to intercept their meeting and drive everyone away.
Half-an-hour before our group of four kids had stumbled on one of Hasper's lackeys gathering all the boys and girls of the neighbourhood for a secret meeting. A chance of a life time, as it was advertised. But to hear the full story behind, Pandora had to rely on the threat of her fists before the beans were spilled. Before she heard the mention of a rat merchant with much coin to spare, for little services and tasks.
There is a piece stuck in Pandora's throat, a desire to run and flee, to burst in outright tears. But she keeps her emotions squeezed within, she clenches her teeth and fists as she steps into the open. Dione and Pallene by her side, and the little Bergelmir trying to see past their backs.
It had been a theatre once. Before the collapse and the fire that had followed fifty years prior. The stone floor is still charred black as are the bricks of the seats and stage when it was chiselled by the heat. The sky lies open with a heavy curtain of dark clouds, and where ever the three girls look, they see kids younger and older than they are. From neighbour's cousins to random passer bys on the streets, every single face belongs to someone they have seen in their lives, someone whose voice they had heard at least in passing. They are all waiting, they are are whispering about what is to come, and all they can do is but wait.
In the distance, the bells of the Chapel of Io ring their evening tune. A message for people to head to their homes to enjoy the company of their families, to break bread, and share stories of the past. Stories of the bricks that have been laid in the city.
As the bell continues to ring, silence spreads among the gathered youth. Their eyes become locked to the centre stage, to the dark pit in the middle of it all. It is so silent that even the children at the back can hear the ancient stair grind and moan under the weight of the massive beast rising upwards.
The moment it steps on the stage, the creature stretches and casts aside its black velvet cloak of finest craftsmanship. The were-rat stands at the edge, in its black and white clothes adorned with golden embroidery, a being of wealth and power amidst the impoverished citizens of the city. The beast slowly turns its gaze around, staring blankly enough so each and every child feels like he had stared straight into their eyes. The children dare not to make the smallest of moves.
Thus the twisted creature chuckles to himself, and continues his hollow laughter ever louder as he sinks his clawed hands to the big leather pouches on his belt and throws out small pieces of gold coins all around. Handful after another. Almost as if those were to him nothing but mouldy bread crumbs. And of course the children flock and fight over every piece like starved pigeons.
The were-rat opens its fanged mouth and releases a voice that buries the sounds of the children underneath it. 'You are here today because your parents were once here. A day exactly twenty years ago. You can hear the same bells of Io as they did, you can hear the same offer they heard, and you can make your choice like they did.'
The children and youth stop dead in their tracks, they all stare right at the were-rat garbed well enough to be the king of the city. Their minds race to think how they can please him for more gold or how they themselves could once stand there throwing the gold. It is the lure of power and wealth to those who have none.
Well, there is one who looks down to the piece of coin she holds. Pandora feels the weight of the gold and somehow it is getting ever heavier in her small hand. She feels how anger is slowly churning in her gut. She clenches her hands, and throws the coin back to the were-rat. She breathes heavily, she huffs and puffs, and watches how the shard of gold only bounces off from the creature's back. The were-rat did not even notice it.
The were-rat continues: 'I am a merchant of king Sus, and I am here to seek the only thing of true value. I am here to make an offer for your lives, for your loyalty, for your servitude. Choose well, and there is not a day you will go hungry. Choose well, and you shall not have to fear collapses. Choose well, and you can sleep soundly as your families are under our protection.'
Pandora frantically looks around, she sees the other faces do the same. She sees how they are considering the creature's words. She sees how Pallene and Dione look at her, how they wait for her guidance on what to do. Yet the little Bergelmir sneaked in front of the girls, and shouts out his question; 'And what if we do not choose you?'
The disbelief of the small boy's question spreads like wildfire, and so the were-rat turns to face the tiny boy who dared to ask the question. The merchant rests its paws against its legs and leans down to stare right into the boy's eyes. His breath oozes towards Bergelmir's face as he gives his reply: 'Why, I am a rat on the surface. Under the clouded sky. I am yours to kill by the law of the Magisters.'
He bursts into laughter as he knows how a simple wave of his tail could snap the necks of the twelve nearest children. How he straightens up laughing ever louder, and how he reaches underneath his shirt to pull out one silver dagger at a time. Some more tarnished and bent than others, and how he casually just throws them at the feet of the children. 'They all belonged to Night Watch. To those poor sods who decided to stand against me. Go on, grab one, take one, and point it towards me! Or run away and cry for the help of the Watch.'
Pandora just grabs the shoulder of Bergelmir and pulls the boy to her side. She looks down and keeps her gaze down as the were-rat's words taunt her far more than most. How it echoes against the pain she has kept bottled inside her whole life. Yet her gaze can only avert away from the twists and turns of the massive rat as it speaks. She wants to avoid seeing what lies before her.
At least until her eyes stop to look at one of the bent silver daggers. A tarnished dagger, the blade itself bent half to half of a straight corner. Yet there is something in its size and shape that reminds her of something, as if she had seen it somewhere else. Pandora momentarily forgets everything else, she leaves Bergelmir, Pallene, and Dione behind, skips over the were-rats' tail and grabs the bent dagger in her hand. She gazes the hilt, and the engraving on the guard. She gulps, shivers, and her eyes burst out in tears, and when the were-rat turns to face her with its ugly grimace, Pandora utters but one tear filled question: 'Where did you get this?'
Bemused the were-rat just blurts out: 'I think it was some six-seven years ago. Some fool tried to stab me with it, so I stabbed his eyes out with his own dagger.' He takes a hold of and imaginary neck and dagger, and just hammers the dagger down over and over again.
Ever so slowly Pandora's fingers wrap against the hilt. 'The Night Watch daggers always come in pairs. My mother never got back the other.' Tears finally stop flowing from her red eyes, her breathing calms, and she stands up holding the dagger in her right hand. One inhale, one gulp, and she points the tip at the humanoid rat almost thirteen times her size. 'I am Pandora Pelliorn... You killed my father. Prepare to die as he died.'
The were-rats eyes spread wide open, its jaw falls, and it cannot help but to lean its head back as his laughter bellows to the skies above. To the were-rat the simple thought of a little blonde girl seeking vengeance is only absurd. 'What could you ever hope to do against me?' He asks as his gaze falls back down.
But the tail swings through air. To the afflicted merchant, somehow the little girl jumped far higher than what she could have by common sense. The bent tip of the tarnished silver dagger sinks through the fur. Cuts into the flesh, and crosses over the were-rats left eye. Nearly black blood gushes out from the wound, the eye twists before being pierced by the blade.
The were-rat howls in pain and knocks Pandora down. She has troubles getting up, her head and eyes spin and she no longer can holds the hilt of the dagger. Yet by some miracle, as the furious were-rats gets ready to kill the girl, its right claw misses the girl. The claws hit against stone instead of sinking into her flesh. The impact causes the were-rat to wobble back, one step after another, until a sudden gush of wind almost pushes him past the edge of the pit. The massive were-rat struggles to maintain its balance, until he finds it.
The glare it makes with it fangs bared leaves no hope for mercy. It almost lunges onwards, it almost leaps to kill, but instead the were-rat only falls his back first into the depths of the pit behind it. Those around the stage can hear the sound of stone breaking. They can hear the sound of a slap of meat hitting the table and nothing more beyond that.
Pandora pants, and her dizzy eyes turn towards Pallene, Dione, and Bergelmir. She smirks, as she knows what they did, and they probably know what she did to reach the were-rat's eye. The beast surprised by magic, wind, shadows, and invisibility alike. Pandora swallows, and fills her lungs with air. She shouts and cries out two words: 'Get out.'
The other children, both young and old look at each other. They look at the centre of the stage, before they start to leave. Some faster than the others as most are are stunned by what they saw. But ultimately they are all fearful of what might follow. They do not want to stay in case the were-rat climbs back up, after all those buggers are nearly impossible to kill.
Dione and Pallene help their friend get up. She can barely whisper now, but Bergelmir leans in to listen that almost muted voice. As the girls carry the third away, the boy dashes to pick up the silver daggers, and any piece of gold that went unnoticed by the others.
Soon, the old theatre lies empty. Only the blood stains on the stage remind of what transpired, and as the heavy clouds open their curtains, even the stains wash a way.
Nothing remains to witness how the enraged and battered were-rat climbs back up. Not a soul hears its mad roar. Not a glance at the fine garb torn asunder. There is only pain as the rain drops fall against the pierced eye and flow down along the open wound across the creature's cheek. The were-rat looks at its broken and twisted right hand and how his tail is both limb and mangled due to the fall.
The rain has wiped the blood stains, it has covered the trail of scent. And little by little, the merchant's burning kettle of fury looses its steam. Only pain lingers on the were-rat's body, and with it, a desire to flee the theatre. To vanish into the city below. Yet the merchant is held in place, he releases a squeak. Our merchant tries to decide which is worse, the city's guards that might find him there, or the wrath of his king Sus for his failed task. He slinks down the into the pit, he cannot appease silver weapons.
***
The rain had covered their tracks. Allowed the girls to carry Pandora to their secret house of mysteries. They shout for help, as no one is there to greet them within the ground floor. There is panic in their voices. Pandora has fallen unconscious and doesn't wake up.
Pallene and Bergelmir stay with her, as Dione runs upstairs to find Loge and Pan. She finds Loge on the fourth floor almost entirely absorbed into a book. Loge leaves the book and helps the girl search Pan in the remaining floors, room by room, until they reach the attic that remains empty.
Dione cannot breath, her body is too tired, she just succumbs to her knees mumbling how Pandora will die. Yet Loge notices how the window remains unlocked, how it is tossed wide open and shut by the raging wind. How torrents of rain gush in and whip agaist her face.
She sticks her head out, she peers to the darkness of the city only lit by the flames coming from within the houses, and the odd street light already lit. The rain and wind whip and tear her hair as she tries to see if Pan sits on the slippery roof. She cries for his name and the howl of the wind nearly mutes her entirely.
Pan's eyes creak open, he is entirely wet. Under the howl of the wind, he doubts when he first hears his name called, but as it repeats again and again. He gets up and slips, dangling on nothing but his grip against a wet roof tile. He looks down, and struggles to get back up as the wind tosses and the rain whips his small body. He crawls towards the ridge of the roof, and slides down to the window. Loge grabs his hand and pulls him in. They both fall to the floor.
'Pandora, downstairs, now.' Says Loge to her brother. Dione having had the chance to catch her breath, waves her hand for Pan to follow. She runs ahead, down the stairs, and Pan follows at first until he gets the chance to overtake the girl. Loge had stayed momentarily behind to close the window, for it was all she could think to do.
When Pan finally reaches the ground floor, he sees past the jars on the table how Pallene and Bergelmir hold Pandora's hands as she lies unmoving on the floor. The two shift their heads to look at Pan under the table and past the jars, and they can only say that she does not breath any more.
Pan's steps slow, until they stop. He got to her too late, he looks down and pulls his wet and dark hair in anger. Water drips down from his body and clothes. A small pool forms and he sees his own reflection flicker in the light of the fireplace.
The boy rushes to Pandora pushing the other two out of the way. Inside his mind he recalls how he himself is not truly alive, nor quite dead, just something in between. He remembers what it felt like in the Wight King's palace, he remembers what it felt like under the Sun on his return. Inside Pan's mind there is an idea of a bridge between life and death.
Slowly, he places his hands against Pandora's cold cheeks, he closes his own eye and focuses on the surge of energy beating within his own heart. The energy drained from the Sun could be pushed onwards, expelled from his own body and guided to Pandora's heart to force it beat anew.
Pan's fingers shake, his entire body sweats, but inside his mind he sees her. He feels where she has been hurt, all those muscles torn, the splinters in her bones, organs bruised and crushed, and finally the still heart. It takes Pan's entire will power, but somehow he manages to force the heart to beat, again and again, until the heart remembers the rhythm to follow.
To all their relief, Pandora gasps for air at long last. A wheezing breath, but at least her lungs and heart demand the air to live.
As for the rest of Pandora's body, whatever is torn and broken, Pan looks within himself for the guidance how to fuel, guide, and hasten Pandora's own natural healing. It is not painless, she screams in inhuman agony, as her broken bones mend and the torn flesh sews itself back to one.
But Pan does not have enough strength left in his heart, not nearly enough to save her from falling back into the darkness. So he first drains the water in his clothes for sustenance as he learned in the salt mines and the sewers. When there is none left to absorb he begins to cannibalise his very own body for the necessary energy he needs.
He grows weaker as Pandora screams grow louder. He turns pale and gaunt right before the eyes of Loge, Pallene, Bergelmir, and Dione. They do not know how to help, they can only watch and hope for the best. Watch as Pan's hold falls loose and he tumbles down to the floor. Watch as Pandora's cries fade and stop.
The boy and the girl both breath if only barely. They both give a weak smile. Pandora barely manages to mumble out the words: 'It feels good to cheat death.' Pan does not answer, he just releases a sigh of relief.
> The other kids help them move closer to the fire. They find them blankets, and bring them water to drink and food to eat. Neither Pan nor Pandora quite has the strength to eat. Both of them just take tiny sips when offered, or nibble at the spoons and forks.
Their eyes remain locked to the fire before them, and so Loge just sits in between and pulls them both against her shoulders. She wraps her hands over their shoulders, and just whispers the words: 'You fools, you stupid fools, both of you.'
Little while later, Pallene, Dione, and Bergelmir all join the group hug. They all sit under the blankets and stare at the fire together.
Chapter 8:
The morning Sun glares through the windows. Pandora's nose twitches, she smells porridge. Her body jolts up from the floor and she looks around bewildered and instantly regrets her sudden burst of movement. It almost feels like every inch of her body had been mangled twice over through a meat mincer.
Loge smiles to her, and uses a spoon to fill a small wooden bowl with porridge. 'How long have I been out?' She asks while touching her greasy hair.
'Since yesterday.' Replies Loge as she returns to stir the porridge.
Pandora looks into the bowl and feels her stomach grumble. She grabs the spoon and spins it in the bowl doubting the appetite of her stomach. 'The last thing I remember is stabbing a big rat.'
'Dione told me as much.' Loge pulls the pot from the fire, and fills a bowl of her own with the porridge and sits in front of Loge. 'How are you feeling?'
'Like I got up from a grave.' Pandora does her best to smile. 'But I am fine. Honest. Wait, why are you so serious?'
Loge's lip quivers. 'You, you almost died yesterday.'
The faint smile fades. 'Did I kill that oversized rat?'
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