Consciousness returned in fragments, the taste of bitter soil still on his tongue, the dull throb behind his eyes, the prickling awareness of something dangerously close to his face.

  A sharp, curved beak hovered inches away yellow, glossy, and utterly unamused. "Chicken…?" His voice cracked, dry as old parchment. "Is that you?"

  A sudden, stinging crack split the air. His cheek exploded with heat. He jerked upright with a yelp, hand flying to the burning skin. Vision cleared in a painful rush.

  The figure looming over him was not feathered. Tall, cloaked head to toe in heavy black clothe, face hidden behind the long, hollow beak of a plague doctor's mask. The lenses glinted like polished obsidian, reflecting the dim lamplight of torches from the wall.

  "I ain't your damn chicken," the masked figure said, voice muffled but unmistakably dry. He lifted a gloved hand and pointed across the narrow space. "That's your chicken."

  Nameless followed the gesture.

  On a second narrow cot lay a woman. Small, elegant horns curved back from her forehead like polished onyx. Her skin was the warm red of fresh embers. Crimson eyes burned with barely contained fury beneath thick lashes. A thin linen sheet had been draped across her hips and chest barely decent, more an afterthought than modesty. Sturdy ropes lashed her wrists and ankles to the iron bedframe. A strip of cloth gagged her mouth.

  She glared at them both as though already imagining the precise order in which she would dismantle their limbs.

  The nameless man's mouth opened, closed, opened again. "What the– who… who the hell is that?"

  The masked man planted both gloved hands on his narrow hips. "That, you buffoon head, is the chicken with you. What do you think is going to happen when you eat a Miro apple? They're poisonous. One bite and you start foaming at the mouth like a dog. I found you sprawled under a tree, half-dead, almost even. With that chicken which turned out to be a creature from hell standing guard. I almost got the gravedigger to drag your corpse to the cemetery."

  He crossed the room in three long strides, snatched a flask from a workbench littered with alembics, dried herbs, and jars of unidentifiable things floating in viscous fluid.

  "Drink." He thrust the flask forward. "It may tastes like dead rat, but it'll neutralize the rest of the poison out of your stomach and blood."

  Nameless took it, uncorked it, and immediately regretted every life choice that had led him here. The smell hit like a slap, sour rot, old copper, something faintly like burning hair. "Damn, you weren't kidding," he muttered, then tipped the flask back.

  The liquid slithered down his throat like rancid oil. His whole body shuddered. Gooseflesh raced across his arms and chest, a violent shiver rattled his teeth.

  The masked man glanced toward the bound woman. She hadn't blinked once. Her crimson stare tracked every movement with predatory patience.

  He folded his arms, "So. You now owe me three debts of life, first by dragging your half-dead body out of the woods, second by wasting a very expensive antidote, and allowing a literal hell-creature into my clinic."

  The nameless man swallowed the lingering aftertaste. "I… I'm sorry, sir…?"

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  "Drop the 'sir.' Name's Tobias. Local physician, alchemist, occasional idiot-magnet." He leaned back against the workbench, posture relaxed but eyes sharp behind the lenses.

  "Tobias," Nameless repeated, testing the word. He rubbed his temples. "My head feels like someone used it to as an anvil."

  "That's what happens when you treat deadly fruit like a snack," Tobias said, voice dripping acid. "Natural consequence." A low, muffled growl came from the other cot. The woman thrashed once, hard. The bedframe creaked in protest. Ropes groaned.

  Both men turned.

  Tobias's hand drifted to the dagger hanging at his belt. The woman's crimson gaze locked onto him pure, molten hatred.

  "Why is she naked?" the nameless man asked, unable to tear his eyes away.

  "She transformed that way, somehow." Tobias said flatly. "Clothes don't come with devils, I presume. The sheet was the best I could do on short notice." Tobias added while he stepped a safe distance from the woman.

  "You volunteering your own clothes? Be my guest," Tobias shot back. "We're in the middle of nowhere. Supplies are limited. The sheet covers the essentials."

  Then she thrashed again, harder. The ropes bit into her wrists, a thin trickle of blood slid down one forearm, and small flame shien on her palm.

  Tobias's grip tightened on the dagger. His other hand dipped into his satchel, fingers closing around another vial.

  Nameless rose slowly from the bed. "I'm going to loosen the gag. She wants to speak."

  Tobias grabbed his arm. "Are you mad!? If you free her, I'm running. And I'm fast when my life's on the line," he said with clear panic in his voice.

  "I'm not freeing her," the nameless man said, calm despite the pounding in his skull. "Just the gag. Let her talk." Tobias stared for a long second, then released him with an exasperated hiss and retreated behind the workbench.

  The woman watched the nameless man approach. To his surprise, she stilled. The furious tension in her shoulders eased fractionally.

  He crouched beside the cot. "Easy," he murmured. "I know you want to murder us both right now. I get it. I'm just going to take the gag off so you can speak. That's all." Her eyes narrowed, then she gave the tiniest nod.

  He worked carefully, fingers fumbling only once as he untied the knot. The cloth fell away.

  She worked her jaw, licked lips that revealed rows of needle-sharp teeth, then fixed him with a look that was equal parts bored and amused.

  "You're a complete idiot for eating a Miro apple," she said, voice low and smoky, like coals shifting under ash. "But you're also more of a moron who carried me out of that witch's house without a second thought. I don't do gratitude often. Ever, actually. But… thank you." A quick, genuine smile flickered across her face, gone as fast as it came. "Don't get used to it."

  Her gaze snapped to Tobias, still half-hidden. "You, on the other hand, you beaked, cowardly son of a wench. Once these ropes are off, I'm going to roast you slow and eat you in small, polite bites." She spoke loudly, like the walls were shaking with her voice.

  The nameless man blinked, clearly confused why the woman is soo aggresive toward Tobias. "He saved us didn't he? Both of us."

  "Us?" She snorted. "He saved you. The second I changed back he screamed like a little girl, drew steel, and tried to turn me into a pincushion. I was about to educate him on manners when the coward threw sleeping poison in my face." She said with annoyence.

  "I did what was necessary!" Tobias called from cover. "You looked like the literal incarnation of vengeance!"

  "Fuck you, coward-beak!" she shouted once again. She turned back to the nameless man, voice suddenly softer, almost coaxing. "Hey. Untie me. I swear on my horns and death, I won't touch you. Promise."

  Tobias yelped. "Don't you dare! Free her and we're both roasted beef!" He said behind the tables.

  "Please," she said again, crimson eyes locked on his. "My wrists hurt. I won't hurt you."

  The nameless man pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fine. I'll free you. But no burning, stabbing, eating, or otherwise harming the physician. I owe him my life."

  She rolled her eyes thinks for moment and take last glance at Tobias and sigh. "Fine. Deal. Just hurry up. These ropes are worse than iron shackles." He said while wiggle her tied hands.

  He worked fast. The knots were tight, his fingers ached by the time the last rope fell away.

  The moment she was free, she sat up, rubbing circulation back into her wrists. Then she stretched slow, luxurious, predatory.

  Flames erupted from her feet in a controlled rush, licking upward in a perfect spiral. Fire raced over her skin, her hair, the sheet still draped across her lap. Everything the flames touched vanished into fine gray ash.

  When the blaze winked out, she stood clad in a sleek dress of living obsidian black as midnight, shimmering with faint veins of molten red. The fabric clung to every curve like liquid shadow.

  She rolled her shoulders and sighed in pure satisfaction. "Ah, Much better."

  "Fantastic," Tobias muttered from behind the table. "Now she can burn the clinic and half the forest without even trying."

  "What do you take me for?" she snapped. "Some mindless brute?"

  She turned to the nameless man. "Anyway… you never told me your name back at the witch's place." She tilted her head, studying him.

  He searched his mind again. Nothing. Just echoes and static. "I don't remember," he said quietly.

  Tobias straightened, curiosity overriding caution, slowly standing up from the table. "Miro apples don't cause amnesia…"

  "It's not the apple," the nameless man said while shaking his head. "I didn't have memories before that either."

  "Well then," Tobias drawled and rub his chin, "since you don't have a name, and your only notable achievement so far is stealing a chicken that turned out to be a demon… how about we call you Chickenman?"

  Inferna pressed a hand to her mouth, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. "Oh, that's perfect. Utterly perfect."

  She extended a hand nails black and slightly curved. "I'm Inferna."

  Chickenman stared at the ridiculous name hanging in the air between them like smoke. Then he sighed, long and suffering, and shook her hand.

  "Chickenman it is," Nameless added at last.