again. Her shoulder ached, but she didn't care. She needed to get out, to save her sister, to kill Dies Irae. She spun toward the other prisoners.
"Help me," she demanded. She panted and her hair covered her face. "Come on, help me break down the door."
The prisoners only watched her sadly. They were all too frail. They shivered in their rags, feverish, nearly dead with disease. They cannot help me, Gloriae realized, her chest rising and falling.
The door's lock clinked behind her.
Gloriae spun back toward it, growling, ready to kill whoever stood there.
The door opened, and Gloriae was about to leap... then froze.
"Oh stars," she whispered, and her knees shook. "Oh stars, no, please no...."
Dies Irae stood at the doorway, holding Agnus Dei before him. His face was icy, his eye dead, his mouth like a slit in leather. Blood stained his armor. Agnus Dei was unconscious, her chin against her chest. Her left arm ended with a bloody, smoking stump.
"Stars, Agnus Dei...," Gloriae whispered.
Dies Irae stared at her. He smiled a small, thin smile.
"The weredragon king took my left hand," he said. "So I will take the left hands of his followers. Yours will be next, Gloriae. But first, make sure this one lives. I want her alive and screaming when I cut the rest of her."
He tossed Agnus Dei forward. Gloriae caught her, held her, and lowered her onto the floor.
"I'm here, Agnus Dei," she whispered and touched her sister's cheek. "I'm here with you, I'll look after you."
Agnus Dei did not wake. Her breath was shallow, her forehead hot.
Rage blazed inside Gloriae. Her teeth clenched, and she spun around to leap at Dies Irae... but he slammed the door shut. Gloriae crashed against the door, but it was locked again. She could not break it. Outside, she heard Umbra's voice.
"Let's build a nice new mimic with her hand," the woman said and laughed.
"Very well, come with me," Dies Irae answered. Gloriae heard their footfalls leave the hut, and their voices faded in the distance.
"Glor... Gloriae...."
Agnus Dei was whispering, voice hoarse. Gloriae rushed to her side, knelt by her, and touched her hair.
"I'm here, Agnus Dei."
Her sister's eyes fluttered. She struggled to raise her head. A tear streamed down her cheek. Her lips moved, struggling to speak, but then her head fell back, and her eyes closed.
Wincing, Gloriae examined her wound. Dies Irae had cauterized it, burning the stump to staunch the blood flow. Gloriae had seen this done in battle before. The fire could close the arteries and kill infection, but it left a messy wound of sizzling, raw flesh. Gloriae gritted her teeth.
"I need bandages!" she called out.
A prisoner hobbled toward her, holding a rag. Gloriae grabbed it and wrapped Agnus Dei's stump.
"This isn't enough," she whispered. "I've seen such wounds before. It will fester. Blood will keep trickling. It will not heal this way." She looked around the hut, panting. "We need to file down the bone, so it doesn't cut the wound. We need to remove the burned flesh, and sew the arteries shut, and seal the stump with a flap of skin. We... we need medicine, and tools, and healers." Gloriae's eyes stung, and she rubbed them. "Bring me some tools! She'll die if we don't treat her. Why don't you move?"
The prisoners only stared at her. Gloriae trembled. She looked at them; so many others suffered the same amputations. So many others were already infected, bleeding, dying. The same would happen to Agnus Dei, she realized. And the same will happen to me.
Gloriae lowered her head, jaw clenched. So this is how it ends, she thought. He'll cut us piece by piece, and turn us into a dozen mimics.
She cradled Agnus Dei's head in her arms and kissed her forehead.
"I'm so sorry, sister," she whispered. "I'm so sorry we only had this short time together. I love you, Agnus Dei. I'm with you now. I'll be with you always."
Her twin's lips moved, and her brow furrowed, but she wouldn't wake. Snow and sweat drenched her tunic. Blood stained her bandage. Gloriae wished she had a blanket for her, a roaring fire, and water for her to drink. Will she die today in my arms? If she does... that will be a kindness to her. If she lives, Irae will drag her out again, and cut off more. Gloriae shuddered. And soon he will cut me.
Roars sounded outside. Feet thumped through the snow. A mimic squealed.
"Man the palisade!" Dies Irae shouted. "Man your