BEASTMARKED

The sound of water lapping against metal jolted Hermes awake. His head throbbed, and his body felt heavy, sluggish. He groaned, trying to shift, but the restraints around his wrists and ankles bit into his skin, sending a sharp reminder of his captivity.

He blinked several times, his vision swimming until it finally settled. The dim, gray light filtering through small, circular windows told him he was in some kind of hold—a ship's hold, judging by the faint, rhythmic rocking beneath him. The smell of saltwater hung in the air, mingled with the faint metallic tang of rust.

Hermes tried to move, his muscles protesting, and the chains binding him clinked against the floor. As he struggled, memories of the raid came rushing back: the armed men, his mother's apology, the cold betrayal. His breath hitched, and he clenched his fists, the claws on his fingers pressing into his palms.

He wasn't alone.

As his new eyes adjusted to the dark room, he realized he was surrounded by others. People—if they could still be called that—were sprawled across the floor of the hold, bound like he was. But they weren't just people anymore.

The nearest one, a girl no older than him, had golden fur covering her arms and legs, her face elongated into something resembling a fox's snout. Her ears twitched with every sound, and her tail curled protectively around her body. Another figure, a massive, muscular woman, had gray, leathery skin and thick tusks protruding from her lower jaw—an elephant, he realized.

Everywhere he looked, there were people like this—each transformed, each bound. It wasn't just him.

He shifted uncomfortably, the chains rattling again, and someone across the hold stirred. Hermes froze as his gaze locked onto a figure sitting against the wall, his wings folded tightly against his back.

Edward.

Hermes's breath caught in his throat. The boy he'd barely noticed in the school hallway was here, looking as out of place as Hermes felt. But Edward wasn't the same, either.

His once-unassuming figure was now striking, almost regal. His white hair was slightly disheveled, but his sharp, golden eyes gleamed in the dim light, unnervingly intense. Behind him, large, sleek wings, covered in dark brown feathers with streaks of white, were folded neatly, but they still brushed against the walls of the cramped hold. His legs ended in powerful, scaled talons that scraped lightly against the metal floor.

Hermes stared at him, struggling to reconcile this new, birdlike version of Edward with the quiet, unassuming boy he'd passed in the hallway.

Edward's sharp eyes flicked toward Hermes, and for a moment, they simply stared at each other. Hermes felt a strange tension between them, like a crackling energy he couldn't explain. It was the same feeling he'd had in the hallway—the sense that there was something off, something significant about Edward.

"You're awake," Edward said, his voice calm but with an edge of weariness. He shifted slightly, his wings rustling as he adjusted his position.

Hermes swallowed, trying to ignore the dryness in his throat. "Where are we?"

Edward's gaze flicked toward the small window, then back to Hermes. "On a boat. Middle of nowhere, as far as I can tell."

Hermes's jaw tightened. That wasn't much of an answer, but it wasn't like Edward had more information. He looked around the hold again, his heart sinking as he took in the sheer number of captives.

"Who... who are these people?" Hermes asked.

Edward sighed, his talons clicking against the floor as he shifted again. "Same as you and me. Changed. Taken." He paused, his golden eyes narrowing slightly. "Don't tell me you're still piecing that together."

Hermes scowled, frustration bubbling to the surface. "I just woke up," he snapped, then softened. "What do you mean, 'taken'?"

Edward's gaze turned colder. "You really don't know? They're rounding us up. People like us. I don't know why, but I can guess it's nothing good." He glanced toward the others. "They're treating us like livestock. Or experiments."

The word hit Hermes like a blow, and his stomach churned. Experimented on. His claws flexed involuntarily, scraping against the floor.

"Why you?" Hermes asked suddenly, narrowing his eyes. "You're... you don't seem surprised by any of this. You're too calm."

Edward's expression didn't change, but something in his gaze hardened. "I've known about this for longer than you think," he said cryptically. "Let's just say I wasn't entirely caught off guard."

Hermes stared at Edward, the tension between them thickening as the seconds passed. He couldn't shake the sense that Edward knew more than he was letting on. The boy's calm demeanor, the sharpness in his eyes—it didn't fit with the chaos and fear swirling through the hold.

"You're not scared," Hermes said quietly, breaking the silence. It wasn't a question—it was an observation, one he couldn't ignore.

Edward's talons scraped the floor lightly as he shifted his legs, his expression unreadable. "Fear doesn't help," he said simply.

"That's not what I mean," Hermes pressed. "You've known about this, haven't you? You said you weren't caught off guard."

Edward's golden eyes flicked to Hermes, studying him for a moment. Then, with a sigh, he leaned back against the wall, his wings folding tightly behind him.

"I guess there's no harm in telling you," Edward said, his tone low and measured. "You're in it now, just like me."

Hermes leaned forward as much as the chains would allow, his curiosity piqued.

Edward began, his voice detached, as if recounting a story about someone else. "The day before the event, my parents disappeared. No warning, no explanation. Just gone. They were scientists—biologists, to be exact. They used to work for some government-funded research lab, but they never talked about their projects. Always said it was 'classified.'" He smirked bitterly at the word.

Hermes frowned. "What does that have to do with... this?" He gestured vaguely at Edward's wings and talons.

Edward's gaze darkened. "A lot more than I realized at first. After they vanished, I found their research. It wasn't just biology—they were studying genetics, splicing, mutation. The kind of stuff you only see in sci-fi movies. But it wasn't fiction. They were working on something big, something connected to the event."

Hermes's claws twitched involuntarily. "Are you saying they caused this?"

Edward shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe they were just trying to stop it. Or maybe they were preparing for it. Either way, they knew it was coming. That's why they disappeared—probably to avoid getting caught up in the fallout."

Hermes's stomach twisted. "And you? Did they tell you anything?"

Edward's laugh was cold, humorless. "They didn't tell me a damn thing. I was just their 'little boy,' someone they kept in the dark to 'protect.' But they left me enough clues. Enough to figure out what they were working on. Enough to know that this—" he gestured to his wings and talons, "—wasn't an accident."

Hermes stared at him, his mind racing. "You think they experimented on you?"

Edward's eyes met his, and for the first time, Hermes saw a flicker of vulnerability beneath the sharp exterior. "I don't think it. I know it."

The weight of the confession hung between them, the silence in the hold punctuated only by the distant hum of the ship's engine.

"They used me," Edward continued, his voice quieter now. "I was their test subject, whether I wanted to be or not. I didn't understand it back then—I just thought they were running weird tests for their job. But now? Now I know better."

Hermes didn't know what to say. The anger, the bitterness in Edward's voice—it was a mirror of the fury simmering in his own chest. The betrayal. The helplessness.

"What happened to you after the event?" Hermes asked finally.

Edward's wings rustled, a reflexive movement. "I woke up like this. Just like everyone else. But unlike most people, I wasn't surprised. It felt... familiar. Like I was finally seeing the results of something I'd been part of my whole life without realizing it." He paused, his golden eyes narrowing. "That's when they came for me. The same people who came for you. They were after anyone who changed, but they wanted me for something else. I don't know what, but I intend to find out."

The determination in Edward's voice sent a chill down Hermes's spine.

"You think your parents are involved in all this?" Hermes asked.

Edward hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor. "If they are, I'll deal with them when the time comes."

There was a finality to his words, a quiet resolve that told Hermes this wasn't the first time Edward had thought about it.

…

The ship's engine groaned as it slowed, the rhythmic hum fading into a dull vibration that ran through the metal floor. Hermes felt the shift before he saw anything—the subtle tilt of the boat as it drifted to a stop. Around him, the other captives stirred, some blinking groggily, others looking around with wide, fearful eyes.

Edward sat still, his wings pressed tightly against his back, his gaze fixed on the heavy door at the far end of the hold.

Then it creaked open, the sound sharp and grating.

"Move," barked a soldier, his voice distorted through the mask he wore. He pointed the muzzle of his rifle toward the group, making it clear that there was no room for hesitation.

One by one, the captives were unshackled from the floor but kept restrained at the wrists. The soldiers worked quickly and efficiently, their movements precise, practiced. When they reached Hermes, he felt a surge of anger flare in his chest, but Edward shot him a warning look.

"Don't do anything stupid," Edward muttered under his breath, his golden eyes sharp.

Hermes gritted his teeth but held back. He let the soldier haul him to his feet, the metal cuffs biting into his wrists as he was shoved toward the line forming at the center of the hold.

"Single file," another soldier barked, her tone clipped.

The captives moved hesitantly, their movements slow and unsteady as they shuffled toward the exit. Hermes glanced at Edward, who followed close behind him, his expression unreadable.

As they emerged from the ship's hold, Hermes squinted against the sudden brightness. The air was crisp and cool, carrying the unmistakable tang of saltwater. He stumbled slightly as his feet met solid ground, the transition from the rocking ship to the steady dock disorienting.

He barely had time to take in his surroundings before another shout rang out. "Keep moving!"

The soldiers herded them like livestock, prodding the slower ones forward with the barrels of their guns. Hermes glanced around, his heart sinking as he took in the sight.

The dock was massive, stretching far into the distance, lined with other ships just like the one they had arrived on. Each ship had its own line of captives, all walking in single file toward the same destination—a massive, sprawling compound that loomed in the distance.

The compound was surrounded by towering fences topped with razor wire, the metallic sheen glinting in the sunlight. Guard towers dotted the perimeter, their silhouettes stark against the pale sky. From this distance, Hermes could make out clusters of buildings within the compound—some squat and functional, others tall and foreboding. Smoke curled lazily from a distant chimney, adding to the oppressive atmosphere.

To either side of their line, other groups of captives were being marched in parallel lines, all heading toward the compound. Hermes's stomach churned as he realized just how many people had been taken. There were hundreds, maybe thousands, each with distinct animal traits—tails, wings, fur, scales.

He caught sight of a boy a few lines over, his thin frame trembling as he shuffled forward. A pair of small, feathered wings sprouted from his back, fluttering slightly as he struggled to keep pace. Ahead of him, another boy with large, rabbit-like ears kept his head down, his expression grim.

In a nearby line, Hermes noticed a towering woman with the unmistakable bulk of a grizzly bear. Her broad shoulders were covered in dark fur, and her clawed hands clenched into fists as she trudged forward. Beside her, another woman with sleek, black-and-gray stripes—zebra-like—kept her head high, her ears flicking nervously at every sound.

Hermes turned his head slightly, trying to get a better view of the captives in his own line. Most were silent, their faces pale with fear or resignation. Some glanced around nervously, their eyes darting toward the soldiers, the compound, and the fences.

Edward walked just behind him, his wings folded tight, his expression calm but his golden eyes watchful.

"Do you see that?" Hermes muttered under his breath, tilting his head toward the parallel lines.

Edward's gaze flicked briefly to the other groups before returning forward. "Yeah," he said quietly. "They've been busy."

"Why so many?" Hermes asked, his voice low.

Edward's jaw tightened. "Whatever they're planning, it's not small."

A shout from one of the soldiers silenced any further conversation.

Hermes clenched his fists, his claws digging into his palms. The sight of so many people—so many like him—being herded toward the compound like cattle ignited a fire in his chest.

But for now, he could do nothing. The soldiers' rifles, the sheer number of guards, the looming presence of the compound—it was all too much.

So he walked, his heart pounding, his mind racing.

As the group drew closer to the compound, the details became clearer. The fences were lined with cameras, their lenses following the captives' movements. The guard towers were manned by soldiers with high-powered rifles, their silhouettes barely moving as they watched the lines approach.

Hermes's gaze drifted to the buildings within the compound. One in particular caught his attention—a tall, windowless structure with a wide, reinforced door. It stood apart from the others, its gray walls stark and uninviting.

"What do you think they're going to do to us?" Hermes whispered, glancing back at Edward.

Edward's expression hardened. "Nothing good."

As they passed through the gates, the air seemed to grow heavier, the oppressive weight of the compound pressing down on them. Hermes glanced at the others in his line, at the soldiers, at the fences.

His claws flexed involuntarily, and for the first time since the event, he felt the full force of his new instincts. A low, simmering rage bubbled beneath the surface, mingling with the fear and uncertainty.

He didn't know what awaited them inside the compound, but one thing was clear: he would find a way to survive.

And if he could, he would fight back.