The cage held him by day. By night it did not. Each evening the beast forced the bars, bent iron with claws that should not have that strength, and slipped into the streets. Sheep, dogs, a night watchman. The town buried more each morning. Their letters to the Adventurers' Guild grew short and frantic. Send heroes. Send anyone. The beast breaks free every night. Three adventurers answered. They tracked the panther to a butcher's alley on the fourth night and cornered it against a wall. Nora went first. Her wings flashed orange as she darted in, quick and fearless, driving the beast back with a spear that hummed in her small hands. "Hold still, kitty," she said, grinning even as claws split the air by her face. The panther was fast, but it was three against one. Garrett came next, a wall of grey-green muscle, tusks bared, and he caught a raking blow across his arm without stepping back. He and Beau had signed the guild ledger together weeks ago; this was the work they'd taken. Garrett locked his hands on the beast's neck and slammed it to the stones. "Down!" Garrett shouted. His axe came up. "It's done. I'm ending it." "Wait." Beau grabbed his wrist. The half-demon's tail lashed once. He stared into the panther's face. "Look at its eyes." Garrett looked. The beast had stopped thrashing. One yellow eye fixed on Beau, and something behind it was not animal. It was afraid. It understood. "That ain't a monster," Garrett said. His grip loosened. "That's a person." Beau moved fast, the way he always did when someone needed him. He pulled a vial from his jacket, thumbed the cork loose, and forced it between the panther's teeth. "Easy. Swallow it. I brew good stuff, I promise." His voice stayed light, but his hands shook. The potion worked slow. The purple sheen drained from the fur. Bones cracked and shrank. Claws pulled back into fingers. The huge frame folded inward until a young man lay on the cobbles, tan-skinned, black cat ears flat against his shaggy hair, a red bandana loose at his throat. A red bow hung crooked from one ear. He gasped like a drowning man surfacing. Angus opened his eyes. Yellow, human again, blinking at torchlight. His mind was his own for the first time in a week, and it was empty of everything that had happened. No sheep. No screams. No cage. "Where," he croaked. His throat felt torn. "Where am I? Who—" He looked at the three faces above him. A faerie. A half-orc with an axe. A half-demon holding an empty vial. Strangers, all of them. "I don't know you. Any of you. What happened to me?" Nora and Beau traded a glance. Garrett lowered the axe and would not meet the boy's eyes. No one answered. Angus was a man again, but he remembered nothing, and the three who had saved him were faces he had never seen.