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The castle loomed as a dark silhouette in the sky, shadowing the war-torn lands of Amphibia with its bulk. Far from the hidden tunnels of New Wartwood, Anne and Sasha rode on Joe Sparrow's back through the clouds, towards the castle and whatever lay inside. Somewhere in its depths, Anne knew, was Marcy. Alive.
As Joe Sparrow landed on a cracked balcony and let Sasha and Anne slip from his back, Anne pushed down thoughts of regret. They hadn’t known she was alive, she told herself. Not until a band of newts and frogs seeking refuge in New Wartwood described a scarred human in Andrias’s forces, and the doubt for whether she’d survived her wounds slipped away.
The mission was dangerous, but had to be worth it. The halls of the castle loomed around the rescue party, as red and dark and twisting as some great creature’s insides. They had few leads--a sketch of a map of the castle, the knowledge she’d most likely be in the dungeons, and not much else.
Anne held her sword at ready as she walked quietly down the plush red carpeting in the higher levels of the castle. Orange eyes stared down from the banners lining the walls like they were watching her. Turning down a passage that wound down into the innards of the flying palace, the walls closed in until the blue glow glinting from her sword was the only source of light.
It was in this darkness, on the lowest levels of the castle, that the dim light caught a sign. The lining of the halls had transitioned from rough stone to smooth white tile, and smeared on the glazed porcelain were dark splatters. In the faint blue light, it looked dark--almost black--but Anne knew.
Marcy was hurt.
The trail of blood went both ways down the wide tiled hall. Anne’s heart pounded in her ears so loudly that she was sure she’d be caught. It was Sasha grabbing her hand that pulled her from her frozen stupor. She stumbled after Sasha as she ran down the hall, following the smeared blood. The trail turned a corner into a large chamber, and--
Marcy wasn’t there. Instead, lights on the ceiling far above cast eerie shadows across a laboratory. A reclining chair stood to the side, restraints hanging open on the armrests. The padding was splattered with glowing purple fluid, and stained darker reddish-brown. A metal table sat near the center, metal cuffs ready to snap in place around an occupant’s limbs. Its chrome surface was flaked with dried blood. The shelves around the lab held--in this space, Anne couldn’t see them as anything but instruments of torture; knives and needles and bottled chemicals, surrounding the dark room. A thousand dark thoughts raced through her mind. The things that could’ve happened here…she could only hope things hadn’t gone that far.
“We shouldn’t be here,” Sasha said suddenly, her gaze locked on the evidence of Marcy’s pain and her voice distant and shaky. “Marcy’s not here, we need to go.” She sounded logical, efficient, ready to finish the rescue mission quickly, but it was obvious that she wanted to stop seeing this as much as Anne did. Every object the room held was further proof of Marcy’s suffering.
They turned, forced their feet to carry them from the room. The smears of blood led the other direction as well, through the labyrinth of halls hidden deep in the castle. When the trail finally ended, it looked like a dead end, until Anne managed to pick out the faintest thin lines in the wall marking a hidden door. “She’s here,” Anne hissed to Sasha. She could tell she had noticed the camouflaged entrance as well, and as if drawn to it, Sasha pressed a hand to the wall. It clicked and opened with a hiss of cold air. No one must’ve expected a rescue mission to actually make it into the castle--or maybe at this point, they simply didn’t care if Marcy was taken. Was she already dead? Were they just going to find a corpse behind the door?
Sasha pulled the panel aside as it slowly slid open, unwilling to bear the suspense. A small, featureless cell lay behind it. Slumped at the end far of it was the thin, motionless form of a girl. The mop of dark hair on her head was matted with blood and a ragged blanket was wrapped around her heavily scarred body.
“Holy fuck,” Sasha breathed. It took her an instant to snap out of her shock, taking just long enough for a cry of “Marcy!” to come from Anne.
She seemed fully unresponsive at first, though her eyes were open as Sasha and Anne rushed to her side. “Marcy, please, wake up,” Anne said, desperately, “look at me!”
Marcy’s eyes slid half open, though unfocused and dull. There was something missing in her gaze—the bright amber spark that always filled her brown eyes with excitement and curiosity; in its place was a thousand-yard stare that gave the sense she had experienced things no person, yet alone child, should ever go through.
“What did they do to her…?” Sasha murmured out loud. Interrogations during her first month at Toad Tower had been rough, but the few scars they had left were already mostly faded. Marcy was hardly recognizable. 6 months with Andrias had left her with a canvas of scars across every visible inch of skin. She smelled of blood and infection, and the stained cloths around her left arm hid discolored skin and misshapen flesh.
Her eyes fluttered closed again, the long scars across her face rippling as her expression weakly approached a frightened frown. “Please, don’t,” and god her voice hurt to hear, it was so raw and scared and broken, “don’t hurt...”
“We’re getting you out of here,” Anne swore, eyes welling with tears as she tried to pull Marcy as close as she could without hurting her further. Sasha pulled the knife from her belt and carefully cut the ropes around her ankles and wrists, and they took her in their arms and fled that awful castle.
The tunnels of New Wartwood were bustling with rebels like ants in a colony in the aftermath of the rescue. A handful of the resistance’s best medics had been assigned to Marcy’s room, Felicia taking a moment to check over Anne and Sasha’s own injuries.
“Some of the higher ranking members of the resistance are meeting with the medics in the war room to discuss recovery and piece together what happened,” Felicia told Anne as she dabbed alcohol onto a burn on her arm. Several robots had tried to chase after them, and Anne had taken a blast for Marcy before they managed to lose the pursuing robots. “Keep that cool, you hear me? I’ll leave you two with Marcy for a bit, but meet us there in a few minutes, alright?”
Anne watched Marcy’s shaky breaths, her face pale beneath the narrow scars raking across her skin.
“We should’ve tried sooner. To save her, I mean.”
“We didn’t know,” Sasha said, but she looked away.
“Six months, Sasha. She was in there-- half a year, look what’s happened to her!
"We had no idea she was even alive," sighed Sasha. "I was hopeful right afterwards, but--once I actually sat down and thought about it, once we started having actual battles where not everyone would come back…I thought she had to be gone. I had to accept it or I wouldn't be able to lead this resistance. And then…"
Anne remembered how they'd learned Marcy was alive. For news that should've been relieving, even miraculous after so long thinking she'd seen her die--it had been one of the worst moments she'd ever experienced, right up there with watching that blade of light cleave open Marcy's chest.
The Wartwood Resistance had grown a strong reputation in the rumors that spread through the resisting armies across the continent, and it wasn't uncommon for small parties of new members to arrive at their doorstep seeking shelter and offering aid. It was a battered group, consisting of mostly frogs and newts from central Amphibia, that brought the news. Anne and Sasha were conversing with them casually while Felicia checked their injuries when one of them mentioned something that made Anne freeze.
"Y'know, I know you hummuses--" ("Humans," interrupted Sasha) "--are supposed to be a rare sight here but I could've sworn I saw one of you not long ago."
"What?" said Sasha and Anne in unified disbelief.
"Yes, he's right," said another, "When we were fighting, there was a creature that looked just like you two there. Dark hair, skin sorta in-between you two. Certainly no newt I ever saw."
"Where is she? Did she make it out of the battle? Were there other groups involved that didn't come to us?" Anne couldn't believe what she was hearing. Marcy was alive, she was fighting Andrias's army?
"Oh, no no no, she wasn't on our side. She was fighting alongside the robots. Took down one of my good friends with that flaming scythe of hers, in fact. Something seemed real wrong about her, I'd say that for certain."
They'd pressed further, and heard of her scars, her anguish--everything those amphibians could tell them about what they'd seen that day on the battlefield. With every word, Anne's heart sank. At the time, it had been over five months since that sword had struck through Marcy's chest. They couldn't rescue her soon enough, but planning a rescue mission would be delicate work.
"Yeah. Yeah, she's back now. She's alive and she's gonna be okay," Anne said. "Right, Sash?"
Sasha turned away. "We'll have to see."
A pause hung in the air, between the two young resistance leaders and their friend pulled from the horrors of that castle, for a breath. "Should we go to the meeting? They're probably missing us by now," Anne pointed out. But… the thought of leaving Marcy sent a pang through her chest.
"Someone will be by to check on her soon," Sasha said. "C'mon." She offered Anne her hand to hold. She took it gladly, and perhaps held on a bit too tight.
Grime’s eye followed Sasha and Anne as they slipped into their chairs around the table. Hop Pop was there, but Anne’s siblings were notably absent from the meeting.
“What’s she doing here?” Sasha snapped, pointing at Maddie, the youngest present. “I thought this meeting was just us and the adults.”
“Hey, I’m--” Maddie tried to interject.
“Maddie has been extremely helpful developing healing potions and working with Felicia for first aid,” Grime said, cutting off Maddie’s indignant protest.
“Sasha…we’re kids too,” Anne added, gently.
“Exactly! We’re kids, we’re all just kids! So is Marcy! And look what this war did to her!”
The room went quiet.
Finally, Felicia spoke. “We’ll discuss recovery first, and what this changes for the Resistance second. Marcy’s wounds are…severe. I’m still working with the rest of our medical personnel to assess the full extent, but based on the precision and extent, as well as what we've heard from those who saw her in battle, the consensus is that the vast majority were intentionally inflicted as torture.” She cleared her throat, struggling to hide the weight of the announcement, though it came as little surprise.
“My belief is that the injuries to her left arm occurred about three weeks ago, shortly before we learned she was still a prisoner. At this point, the risk of infection is very high, and I believe she only has avoided that due to the sterile environment of where she was held. Preventing that should be our priority with regards to physical injuries, but we don't have access to the sort of environment she would likely need.
"Of course, this is only regarding her physical injuries. Given what she's been through, she's likely suffered severe mental trauma and we'll need to plan around that once we know how extensive it is."
Sasha barely noticed she was trembling until Anne's hand crept towards hers and squeezed it underneath the table. She squeezed back, and felt herself shaking, distantly. Her emotions were still heavy and rushing. It might've been anger at Andrias for what he put their Marcy through. It might've been sadness, regret, guilt for letting this happen to her. It might've been fear for if she never could fully recover.
"And now, Grime, if you would," Felicia finished after a pause.
Grime cleared his throat. "Yes, the Resistance. Sasha," --she jumped slightly at her name-- "when you joined us, you made a point we were discussing before you two arrived. We think it's best if the adults take charge of the Resistance more. You can remain involved, as we've allowed Maddie to, but as much as you would argue, you are both children. This war has proved to be more brutal than any I've seen. If Andrias and his armies will not hesitate to do this to Marcy, and you humans are being targeted anyways, it is not worth it for this rebellion to put you in that line of danger. Your rescue mission was already a huge risk, but after its success, I want you two to remain in New Wartwood."
Sasha opened her mouth to protest--and then stopped. Grime was right. She looked at Anne, who nodded when their eyes met.
"Now, on the subject of Marcy. It should be kept quiet that she fought for Andrias, especially until we have more information. There are frogs in these very caverns who have been in battle with her. They would not be happy to learn we are sheltering her, or the amount of resources we're devoting to her recovery. If necessary, I will have a guard appointed to her room for her own safety."
When Sasha and Anne returned with Felicia to Marcy's room in the caves, a small commotion kept them from entering. As Sasha had promised, the medics appointed to Marcy must have stopped by, and they were still there when Felicia pushed through, followed by Anne and Sasha. Anne could hardly believe what she was seeing. Marcy had been tied down with thick, strong ropes, her limp limbs bound to the head and foot of her bed.
"What--what the hell is the meaning of this?" Sasha snapped at the amphibians crowding the small room.
She's been most directly facing a short newt doctor when she did so, and they nervously strung together a response. "We, well," they began, "We ran some blood tests and they came back with very high concentrations of the mushroom enzymes that power the collars Andrias uses. Concentrations easily high enough to exert total mind control on a newt, and many times what they use on animals, based on what we've seen. Until we know for sure if she won't attack, or the enzymes leave her system, it seemed like the best choice for both her and our safety."
How would Marcy react if she woke up tied to an unfamiliar bed in a strange place, Anne wondered. It was well-intentioned, yes, but it looked so dehumanizing and cruel. Even her badly wounded arm, which had been cleaned and splinted and bandaged, was stretched over her head to be tied down. If she woke up and she was indeed not herself, she could easily make it much worse.
Felicia sighed. "Anne, Sasha--would you step outside for a moment?"
Anne grabbed Sasha's arm lightly and stumbled out of Marcy's room.
Neither of them spoke a word to the other until Felicia finally beckoned them back in. The ropes weren't gone, but they were less noticeable, and in places where they were less likely to aggravate her wounds.
"They're going to leave her alone to rest now, but if you two could stay with her until she wakes that would be lovely." Felicia pointed at a pair of chairs at Marcy's bedside. "She'll probably want to see you when she does."
When Marcy's eyelashes fluttered hours later and didn't reveal the slightest hint of purple in her eyes, they allowed her to be untied, to Anne and Sasha's relief. By late that night, she still hadn't fully awakened, and Felicia had to stop by to tell the girls waiting at her side to get some sleep of their own.
In the room Sasha and Anne shared, neither could fall asleep.
"That--that place we saw. When we were trying to find her. I can't stop thinking about it," Anne said. The vast room full of hints at pain and suffering--who knew how much time Marcy had spent in it? They had no idea what Marcy might've been through, but every hint at it--the rumors from the battlefield, the map of scars on her body, the things they saw in the depths of the castle--made Anne more afraid for what they'd learn when Marcy finally woke up.
"She's our Marcy," replied Sasha. "She'll be okay. She has to be."
That night, Anne dreamed of dark hallways and dried blood.
Marcy lay in a restless sleep atop the covers of a bed deep in the Wartwood tunnels as Felicia examined her wounds. The rescue had taken place three days prior, but her injuries didn’t seem to be healing as quickly as they should have. Anne and Sasha stood back, giving the yellow frog space to work, but they watched intently for any hint that Marcy would be okay. As a retired medic for the Newtopian Army, Felicia Sundew was the most experienced amphibian in the resistance when it came to caring for injuries of war, and the other volunteer medics just happened to have basic knowledge of first aid thanks to the nature of living in a world like Amphibia. She was the best hope Marcy had outside of the comparatively modern technology of Newtopia.
Felicia had removed the wrappings and splint from one of Marcy’s most worrying injuries--the wound clean through her broken left arm--and was closely looking over it, holding the injured limb carefully. She tutted, gently laying it down beside the sleeping girl, before turning to Anne and Sasha.
“Most of her wounds are healing well, but I’m afraid…she may lose the arm. It doesn’t seem to be healing, and some of the tissue in her hand has already died from lack of circulation due to the wound through it. The safest choice would be amputation.” Sasha and Anne both softly gasped, but Felicia was still talking. “Also, the wound in her leg seems to be infected, and the same symptoms may soon appear in her leg without intervention. It could wait longer, but if it turns, it may need to be amputated as well. I'm still hopeful about that one, though.”
“God,” Sasha breathed.
“Is that--the only option for her?” Anne said shakily.
Felicia nodded solemnly. “It would be best if I could take care of her arm as soon as possible. It looks like she’s already developing signs of gangrene, I don’t want to see the infection spreading,” she said. “Get my bag and some spare sheets. We ran out of the strong painkillers after the last battle; in case she wakes up, do you want to hold her still or have me tie her down? ”
“I--” Sasha started. “Now? You’re doing this now?”
“We won’t leave her,” Anne said, gaze burning.
Felicia seemed to look them over, some sort of sadness in her eyes for the girls fully prepared to be there through this.
Marcy, still unconscious, had been laid atop the fresh sheets that Anne had brought by the time Sasha returned with Felicia’s hefty satchel of supplies.
The injured arm lay atop a sheet that was spread over the rest of her body. Sasha exhaled harshly through her teeth when she saw Anne looking at it. Sasha was about to ask Anne where Felicia was when the frog walked into the underground chamber, a steaming teapot in hand, which she sat on Marcy’s bedside table. "If she starts to wake up, you'll need to try and get her to drink some more of that. It'll make it easier on her," the frog told them.
Felicia explained what she was doing, step by step. The cloth tied around Marcy's upper arm and twisted tight into a tourniquet; the alcohol rubbed into her skin where the frog planned to cut; the sharp, curved knife. Sasha held Marcy upright while Anne coaxed a cup of the tea down her throat to help keep her asleep.
Marcy only stirred when the saw met her bone, and even then didn't seem fully conscious. The entire procedure was much faster than Anne had anticipated, and soon Marcy's arm was stitched and bandaged where the dying limb had once been.
For the next few days, things fell into a rhythm as they waited for Marcy to wake. Forbidden by Grime from taking part in combat, Anne and Sasha wandered the tunnels--talking to Maddie about potions for Marcy, organizing missions and sorting through shipments, or just sitting at Marcy's bedside and hoping she would soon come back to them.
It wasn't like she was completely comatose--she seemed close to waking up more and more frequently, and the sickly pallor to her skin had faded somewhat since her arm had been amputated. Felicia didn't fret too much. "Given what she's been through, she's lucky to be alive at all," she told them. When they didn't seem reassured by that, she added, "She's made it quite a ways already. I'm sure she'll wake up soon."
It was just after sunset the next day when Marcy finally awoke.
Her eyelids didn't flutter so much as slide tiredly open. Those tired, tired brown eyes found Anne and Sasha still waiting at her side. She made a sound--a small, wordless noise, certainly neither of their names, but maybe just a simple expression of whatever she was feeling in that moment. Pain, surely, but also relief. Comfort. Feelings all but faded from her memory, returned to her at last.
Neither Anne nor Sasha knew who said what, nor what was even said in the tangle of "Oh, thank frog, Marcy," "You're okay," "You're safe," "We're here, Marce," "We missed you so much," "You're safe now," "We love you."
All they knew was that when they rushed to embrace her, she accepted it without a thought and sank into their arms.
Whatever state she was in, whatever she'd been through, whatever they would have to push through to see the girl they'd lost as she once had been, in that moment, they already saw the first hint of hope shining through the cracks.
But through the cracks in this machine
We see the light, we see the sun dissolve
A better life on the other side
And we wait
And so we wait