The sterile room buzzed with silence, a strange hum in the lights overhead keeping Mia's nerves frayed like exposed wires. She'd been in the cold metal cell for hours now, left with nothing but a cot, a bottle of water, and her racing thoughts. Despite the comforting words the soldier at the infirmary had spoken earlier, this still felt too much like captivity.
Where are they? she thought, staring at the door for the hundredth time. Are Nut and Hootsworth okay?
Her thoughts were broken when the door hissed open and the tall officer from before stepped inside—just as calm, just as poised. Her navy-blue uniform remained immaculate, the silver trimming gleaming under the ceiling lights. She still wore that unsettlingly polite smile, but her presence felt less threatening now, more purposeful.
"They told me you haven't eaten anything," she said, glancing at the untouched food tray on the cot. "Appetite loss is expected, but it doesn't help when you've just been in a crash."
Mia shrugged. "Hard to eat when I don't know what's happening."
"Well," the officer said, folding her hands behind her back, "you'll be happy to know your beasts are both safe. Your stories lined up, and the scans came back clean. We found no trace of Syndicate tech or infection. Follow me."
Mia's heart leapt. "Wait—Nut and Hootsworth? I can see them?"
The officer simply turned and walked out of the room.
Mia didn't need further encouragement. She followed her guide through a winding corridor, down two levels, and past what looked like a mess hall filled with uniformed soldiers and field rangers. They eventually stopped before a door labeled Secure Briefing Room B7.
The door slid open.
Inside were Nutmeg and Professor Hootsworth.
Nut was pacing like a caged tiger—though admittedly more kangaroo-sized and musclebound—and Hootsworth sat perched on the edge of a wide table, his spectacles glinting under the soft lights, murmuring equations to himself. But the moment Mia stepped in, everything froze.
"Mia!" Nut shouted, leaping toward her.
"Mistress!" Hootsworth flapped his wings and nearly barreled into her from the other side.
Mia ran to them, eyes stinging, and threw her arms around them both in a clumsy but heartfelt group hug. Nut's muscles nearly crushed her ribs, but she didn't care. "You're okay," she whispered.
"We are intact," Hootsworth replied, voice a bit hoarse. "Physically. Psychologically, I shall need tea."
The moment lingered—warm, grounding—until a soft but deliberate throat-clearing sound brought them all back.
The officer stood nearby, arms crossed.
"Touching reunion aside," she said, "we need to talk."
The trio backed off sheepishly and took seats at the table as she stepped forward and activated a screen behind her. A digital map of the forest popped up, with several red-marked zones and blinking indicators.
"You can't leave," she said bluntly. "At least not yet."
Mia tensed, but the officer raised a hand.
"You're not under arrest. You're under protection. The Syndicate likely picked up your energy signature and visual data during the chase. They'll be looking for you now—especially after what you might've seen."
Mia exchanged a look with Hootsworth and Nutmeg.
"Yeah," she said slowly, "about that… we did see something."
The officer raised a brow. "Go on."
So they told her. About the thunderstorm, the forced landing, and the cave they hid in. The flickering anti-detection veil. The cages lined up in orderly rows, filled with beasts in haggard conditions—some unconscious, others barely breathing.
Nutmeg added his details too, speaking with surprising clarity. "I scanned the area. That screen? It wasn't magical—it was psychic-tech hybrid. You wouldn't pick it up unless you were standing five feet from it."
"And we weren't standing long," Mia added. "We didn't get a chance to help anyone. Then the birds found us."
The officer's fingers flew across her tablet, logging everything. "Describe the screen more."
"It shimmered," Hootsworth said thoughtfully. "It felt like a ripple in the air when we passed it. Like trying to look through heat waves."
"And the beasts?" she asked.
"Malnourished," Mia said quietly. "Some were bruised. Some had weird scars—like experimental marks."
The room fell quiet for a moment. The screen behind the officer pulsed, showing updated red markers. Then the officer looked back up at Mia.
"Anything else?"
Mia hesitated. Then nodded.
"While we were flying—during the chase—I looked down and saw another cave. Smaller than the first, but different. There were injured beasts crawling out of it. Three or four of them. Some were limping. One collapsed. I couldn't get a better look before we got hit."
The officer stared at her for several long seconds.
"You remember where it was?"
"Sort of. Nut might be able to retrace our path, though."
The officer turned her gaze toward the beast. Nutmeg puffed out his chest proudly.
"I remember everything."
"Good," she said, pressing a button. The screen began marking new zones. "That helps. We've known about the Syndicate's presence in the outer forest, but this confirms they're expanding and using deeper pockets. And they're experimenting."
Mia shivered.
"Is this where all the missing beast cases are coming from?" she asked.
"Most likely," the officer replied. "We've suspected a new trafficking operation for a while—but capturing and torturing beasts for modification or experimentation? That's new. And dangerous."
She stepped back, arms crossed again.
"You're involved now, whether you like it or not. If they believe you've seen something critical, you're a target."
Mia frowned. "So… what happens next?"
"For now?" The officer shrugged. "You stay here. We'll provide quarters, food, protection. And you'll cooperate with the investigation team. If you remember anything else—even a smell, a sound—I want it."
Mia leaned back, her brain swirling.
So much for a peaceful weekend wilderness trip.
She'd wanted a new beast, a little adventure, maybe some bonding time with her partners.
Instead, she'd walked right into an underground war.
Still… as terrifying as it was, a strange sense of resolve settled over her. She hadn't asked for this. But running from it wouldn't help. Not when there were beasts suffering in cages. Not when the Syndicate was growing bold enough to unleash mechanical birds on the open skies.
And most of all—not when she had the power to actually help.
She looked at Hootsworth, then Nutmeg.
They were both watching her.
Ready.
Guess the summer's going to be more intense than I thought, Mia mused.
"All right," she said aloud. "We'll cooperate. Just—promise me something."
The officer raised a brow.
"If I help you stop this," Mia said softly, "you help me get those caged beasts out. Every last one of them."
The officer didn't smile—but she nodded
"Deal."