At the fort’s top floor is the main watchtower. The Crone can no longer teleport where she wishes thanks to the cold but she has access to everyone’s thoughts judging by almost all of them having missing fingers. 

I walk up the stairs to the top floor, greeted by the sound of wailing from mother and child. 

“No! No, I didn’t agree to this!” When my river was still alive, many a traveler would try to play in it or approach me without seeking my approval first. I spared no one. Not even children.

Reaching the main hallway, a couple stand by the door as an old woman cradles a crying baby in her arms, “Shush her up, boy! ‘fore I take back my promise.” 

“Melody, please be quiet!” The man is in as much pain as his wife, “Listen, we… we won’t survive next month if we don’t do this! We’ve been dealing with rotting crops for too long! We been sick long enough!” 

The crops were rotten? I don’t need to eat so I’m not sure what healthy vegetables even look like. 

“I don’t care! Give me my baby! You bastard! She’s your daughter to-” She’s causing a scene. More importantly, making the Crone angry. She’ll splatter the child all over the walls if I don’t do something. 

I walk over and strike her in the chin with my palm. She stumbles back into her husband’s arms and becomes too disoriented to stand up right.

“Thank you..” The man lifts his wife up, “I.. Excuse us..” 

The couple leave. The Crone smiles up at me, “Well, well, I haven’t seen your kind in years. Thought you died out when you couldn’t adapt to the cold like the other sea folk.” 

“I manage. What was that about?” 

“The crops are getting rotten. ‘Tis my fault, they say, ‘tis my fault the soil fails! Bah!” We walk into the room. The watchtower’s windows are fogged up by the cauldron in the middle. It bubbles and hisses with something foul already cooking inside. 

“Wait.”

The Crone pauses as she holds the infant above the water, “Aim to stop me, mare? The people will die if you kill me.” 

“Let me make it fast.” I hold out my arms to take the child. 

“A kind gesture. But it is shallow.” The Crone smiles, sharp little teeth line her green gums. Wrinkles seem to hold her skin in place. “Your kind revel in suffering. You must be starving.” 

I hold the child’s face against my shoulder. She will most likely eat him to restore her youth or pour the soup on the crops to make them healthy again. Or both. 

My cloak shifts back into my skin, glueing the infant’s face so it can’t pull back. It’s little arms struggle until it breathes no more. 

“Your tears are empty.” The Crone throws the body into the cauldron, “Stop pretending, it irks me so.” 

“I need to ease the transformation process of the lycan below, in the cells.” I’ve seen many travelers cry before their deaths. Or seeing the death’s of their loved ones. I’ve spent many years trying to emulate this reaction but it looks like I’ll need more practice. Its a shame about the child. A steep sacrifice in exchange for survival. 

“Not seeking a cure?” 

“It is impossible to cure lycanthropy. Centuries ago, I came across one lycan who retained his human mind and could control himself somewhat. Could that happen again?” 

“Perhaps.” The Crone’s wrinkled and bony appearance melts and twists into a body of youth. Wavy golden locks, dark green eyes, smooth skin, and free of clothing. A gullible human would fall for her trick in less than a second.

She looks at me with a coy smile “Do you desire me, water spirit? I can see your eyes on my soup. Do you wish to dip me inside?” 

“Yes.” My hunger does not stop at humans. Anyone will do. 

She cackles, “Honesty! How admirable, but it is not enough. Why did you not attempt to save the babe?” 

“Its as you said. If I had saved the child by stopping you then the security of this place would fall rapidly.” 

“Because of my death?” 

“I am not strong enough to kill you. The people here would die because of your anger at my action.” I hesitate to admit that fact. I am powerful, yes, in my own elements. But this domain belongs to the Crone. And without a river to call my own, I’m stuck at half of my full strength. 

“Yes. Good words.” She looks satisfied, “Normally, I prefer the indirect approach but blunt compliments are welcome, depending on the person.” 

“Please. Back to the lycan.” 

“Fine. The boy will be consumed in a matter of weeks. There is one way to preserve his mind but it will be a task you need to complete outside the fort. Bring me the scale of a mermaid.” 

I’ll need to travel to the nearest lake. Thats three days away from this location.. And three days back. 

“Very well.” I turn to leave but the Crone grabs my face and forces our eyes to meet, “You can work with me often, after this.” 

“I’ll be going now.” After reaching the door to the cell block, I approach the man from before and quickly explain my task, “It’ll take me six days to help him. I must leave immediately but before I do you must cover him with over two tons of weight on day five. His full strength won’t appear until day eight but on day five his heart will enlarge to fit into his growing body. This will cause him to struggle and attempt to flee.” 

“Okay but..” He frowns, “..How do you know all this? All the books on non-humans are lost or locked away at the Spire. I doubt they gave a Satyr like you access.” 

I turn away, 

“I observed.” 

I head towards the lake, pushing those memories away.