The sun hadn't fully risen when we arrived at the beast tamer compound.
I carried all three puppies in a reinforced cloth bag Sera had found for me—not ideal, but better than trying to wrangle them individually. They were still sleepy, occasionally yawning and squirming but mostly content. The bag also contained several pounds of fresh meat wrapped in cloth, the best cuts Sera had been able to procure from the temple kitchens.
Commander Vane was already waiting in the yard, along with a dozen soldiers. His expression when he saw the puppies was somewhere between amusement and disgust.
"Bringing your pets to watch you die?" he asked. "How sentimental."
"They're part of my method," I said evenly.
"Your funeral." Vane gestured toward a building at the far end of the compound. "The cub is in isolation block three. We moved it last night per your priestess friend's request. No other beasts nearby to agitate it."
"And the cage specifications?"
"Twenty by twenty feet. Iron bars, reinforced. One entrance. The cub stays chained during your session—I'm not a complete fool." He stepped closer, his voice dropping. "But understand this, hero. The moment I think you're actually in danger, we're ending the session and putting that beast down. I won't have a summoned hero's death on my conscience, no matter how stupid you're being."
There was something almost protective in his tone, buried under the gruffness. Maybe Vane wasn't entirely the monster I'd taken him for. Just a man doing brutal work in a brutal world.
"Fair enough," I said.
The isolation block was exactly as grim as it sounded. A long stone building with narrow windows and heavy doors. The smell hit me first—blood, waste, and fear. My stomach churned but I kept my expression neutral.
"Block three, cell seven," a guard said, unlocking the first door. "We'll be watching from the observation windows. Shout if you need extraction."
The hallway was dim, lit only by magical torches that burned with a cold blue light. I could hear sounds from some of the other cells—growls, the scrape of claws on stone, the rattle of chains. Each cell held something dangerous, something broken.
Cell seven was at the end of the hall.
Through the small window in the door, I could see the cage inside. And in the shadows at the back of that cage, two silver eyes gleamed in the darkness.
"Ready?" the guard asked.
No. "Yes."
He unlocked the door.
The room was larger than I'd expected, with the cage taking up about half the space. There was a gap of about ten feet between the door and the bars—enough distance that I could retreat if needed. The cage itself was dimly lit by a single torch, and I could make out the shape of the shadow panther cub now.
It was bigger than I'd anticipated. Even as a cub, it was probably forty pounds, with six legs ending in paws that looked too large for its body. Its fur was pitch black except for faint gray spots along its flanks. The silver eyes tracked my every movement with an intelligence that was unsettling.
A thick chain ran from a collar around its neck to a bolt in the cage floor. The collar looked too tight, and I could see dried blood matting the fur beneath it.
The cub's lips curled back, revealing needle-sharp teeth. A low growl rumbled from its chest.
I set the bag down carefully and pulled out Luna first. She blinked sleepily at the new environment, then yawned. No fear, no aggression. Just puppy curiosity.
The panther cub's growl cut off abruptly. Its head tilted slightly, eyes fixed on Luna.
I sat down on the floor, keeping Luna in my lap. Then I pulled out Thor and Maxwell, letting them settle around me. Thor immediately tried to chew on my boot. Maxwell sneezed.
For a long moment, nothing happened. The panther cub just stared at us, its body tense and coiled like a spring. I could see its nostrils flaring, taking in our scents.
Then, slowly, it took a step forward. The chain rattled. Another step. Its eyes never left the puppies.
"Hey there," I said softly, keeping my voice low and calm. "I know you're scared. I know humans have hurt you. But I'm not here to do that."
The cub's ears flicked at the sound of my voice, but it didn't retreat. That was something.
I reached into the bag and pulled out a piece of meat—a prime cut of what Sera had called shadow deer. Rich, dark red, still fresh. I tossed it gently toward the cage. It landed about five feet from the bars.
The cub's eyes tracked the meat, but it didn't move. Its gaze flicked back to me, suspicious.
"It's okay," I continued in that same soft tone. "It's for you. No tricks, no pain. Just food."
Luna wiggled in my lap, trying to see what was happening. The movement drew the cub's attention again. For a moment, I saw something shift in those silver eyes. Not aggression—confusion, maybe? Curiosity?
The cub took another step forward, then lowered its head toward the meat. Its eyes never left us. It sniffed once, twice, then snatched the meat and retreated to the back of the cage, dragging the chain with it.
It ate quickly, defensively, like something might steal its food at any moment.
I waited until it finished, then tossed another piece. This time, the cub didn't retreat quite as far. It ate in the middle of the cage, still watching us but with slightly less tension in its body.
Good. Progress.
"See?" I murmured to the puppies, though I was really talking to myself. "Not so different from any scared animal. Hungry, hurt, and alone."
I tossed a third piece of meat. The cub caught it mid-air this time, a lightning-fast movement that reminded me this was still a predator. Still dangerous.
But predators could be worked with. Everything could be worked with, given patience and understanding.
The cub chewed slowly this time, and I noticed its tail—long and tipped with what looked like a tuft of longer fur—wasn't lashing anymore. The aggressive posture had relaxed slightly.
We sat like that for what felt like hours but was probably only twenty minutes. Me on the floor with three sleepy puppies, the panther cub watching from its cage, and the slow, careful process of building the first fragile thread of trust.
I tossed more meat at regular intervals. The cub stopped retreating entirely, eating where it stood. Its eyes still tracked every movement, but the growling had stopped.
Finally, I stood slowly. The cub tensed immediately, and I froze.
"Easy," I said softly. "Just leaving. I'll be back tomorrow, okay? Same time. More food. No pain. I promise."
I gathered the puppies back into the bag, leaving the remaining meat near the cage bars. As I moved toward the door, the cub took a step forward, its head lowering to sniff the air between us.
Our eyes met across the distance.
For just a moment, I saw past the fear and aggression. Saw the young creature that had lost everything, that had been hurt by every human it had encountered.
"I'm going to help you," I whispered. "Even if you don't believe me yet."
The door closed behind me with a heavy thud.
In the hallway, Commander Vane was waiting, his expression unreadable.
"Day one complete," I said. "Still alive."
"Barely impressive," Vane muttered. "You fed it. Anyone can throw meat at a caged animal."
"Yes," I agreed. "But tomorrow, I'll do more."