"She doesn't know what reading is," Nara said, her voice low and urgent. "She doesn't understand what protection means. She has no concept of safety."

  Baron Cassian's face remained carefully neutral, but Nara could see the muscle in his jaw tighten. They stood at the far end of the garden, away from where the other wereanimals had gathered after Maria's unexpected sermon.

  "I knew conditions in the outer territories were deteriorating," he said quietly, "but this..."

  "This isn't just bad conditions," Nara interrupted. "The blood farms are raising humans without basic words now. They're not even teaching them enough nguage to function."

  Cassian's eyes flickered to where Maria had retreated back to the main building, escorted by one of the staff. "She was sent there as an infant?"

  "Yes. Never left until now. Everything she knows came from the older prisoners, who taught her some kind of... religious system. About light and punishment and blood payment." Nara pushed her hair back in frustration. "She's been completely isoted from reality. She thinks her monthly bckouts are a punishment for sins she can't remember committing."

  "And she doesn't know she transforms?"

  "No. She bcks out and wakes up exhausted. The older prisoners told her it was a curse, based on pre-outbreak stories. They were trying to protect her the only way they knew how."

  Cassian was silent for a moment, his gaze distant. "A wereanimal in a blood farm," he finally said. "Unprecedented."

  "And horrifying," Nara added. "The fact that she survived at all is remarkable. But Cassian, there's something else." She hesitated. "The way she describes the farm, how the humans talk to each other in secret, the religious ideas they've created... it suggests something even worse."

  "Worse?"

  "The farms are developing their own cultures now. Isoted, desperate cultures built on suffering. The humans aren't just surviving anymore—they're creating meaning systems to cope with conditions we can't even imagine." Nara's voice dropped even lower. "And we both know what that means."

  Cassian nodded grimly. "The divide between territories is growing more extreme. The reforms we've implemented here haven't spread at all."

  "It's been getting worse for decades," Nara said. "While the Archdukes debate politics and territory lines, the lower nobles are squeezing their resources harder. Especially the blood farms."

  The Baron was silent for a long moment, his eyes on the distant mountains. When he spoke again, his voice was carefully controlled. "I will speak with Count Dominic."

  Nara's eyes widened slightly. Count Dominic Ashcroft controlled the Eastern Blood Valleys—a vast territory that included dozens of smaller vampire holdings, including Cassian's own. He rarely involved himself in the affairs of his subordinate nobles.

  "Do you think he'll listen?"

  "Dominic is... pragmatic," Cassian replied carefully. "But his wife Sera is the one with real compassion. She was rescued from a farm herself, and she's been pushing for reforms. If I can get the evidence to them both, she might convince him where pure logic fails."

  "But you can't force the other barons to change," Nara said, stating what they both knew.

  Cassian's jaw tightened again. "No. I cannot." His frustration was visible in the set of his shoulders. "It's not enough. It will never be enough. But it's what I can do."

  Nara nodded, understanding the limitations of their position. Cassian had created a sanctuary for wereanimals and treated his human popution with basic dignity—but he was still only a baron, with limited power in the vampire hierarchy.

  "Talk to her," Cassian said after a moment. "Get her full story. The more we understand, the better case I can make to Dominic."

  Nara found Maria in her room, sitting stiffly on the edge of the bed, staring at the wall. She looked up when Nara entered, her expression wary.

  "Is the demon—the Baron mad at me?" Maria asked immediately.

  "No," Nara said, sitting beside her. "Not at all."

  Maria looked relieved but still confused. "Why did everyone look at me like that? When I told them The Promise?"

  "Because they've never heard it before," Nara said carefully. "I want to understand about your... curse. And The Promise. Will you tell me how you learned it?"

  Maria's eyes brightened slightly. "You want to know The Promise?"

  "I want to hear your story," Nara crified. "About how you learned it. About Blood Farm #17."

  Maria nodded seriously. "I can tell you. The light wants everyone to know."

  "Start from the beginning," Nara suggested.

  Maria took a deep breath and began speaking in the careful way of someone reciting something important. "I grew up in Blood Farm #17. The older blood bags told me I was sent there when I was a tiny baby. They didn't know who sent me or why."

  Nara kept her face neutral. "What was it like there?"

  "Cold. White walls. Guards with shock sticks. Extraction rooms where they take blood," Maria said simply. "I lived in the children's area until I was big enough to work. Then I cleaned equipment and sorted things."

  "And when did your... bckouts start?" Nara asked gently.

  "I was nine," Maria said, her voice getting quieter. "It hurt very bad. I thought I was dying. I woke up in a storage room all tired and sore. My clothes were torn."

  Maria's eyes grew distant with the memory. "I was scared the demons would process me if they found out. But an older blood bag named Thomas saw me. He told me I had the curse from the old stories. He helped me hide."

  "Old stories?" Nara asked carefully.

  "Thomas said before demons, people told stories about the curse. About people who changed under the moon. He said the demons would take me away if they knew, so I had to hide."

  As Maria continued her story, Nara realized this wasn't just a few religious ideas—it was an entire belief system that had developed in the blood farm. A system of meaning created by people in horrific circumstances, passed down from prisoner to prisoner, evolving over decades.

  Thomas had taught Maria about "the light" that existed before "demons" came. He'd created a ritual prayer called "The Promise" that Maria recited with perfect recall—a poetic verse about suffering, blood payment, and eventual freedom when "demons would turn to ice."

  "Thomas made me memorize it exactly," Maria said with intensity. "Made me promise to find others with the curse and tell them. Said the light chose me."

  "What happened to Thomas?" Nara asked, though she suspected she knew the answer.

  "Processed," Maria said simply. "He got old. But he taught others about The Promise first. We would meet in storage rooms when guards weren't looking. Say the words together."

  "And the other blood bags believed in The Promise too?" Nara asked.

  "Yes," Maria said firmly. "It gave us hope. Thomas said that was important—hope. Even when the demons took our blood, they couldn't take our hope in the light."

  "And you believe the light sent you here?" Nara asked carefully.

  Maria nodded. "To find others with the curse. To tell them The Promise." Her expression fell. "But they don't want to hear it."

  Nara was silent for a moment, processing all she had heard. Maria's entire understanding of reality was filtered through this religious framework. Her "curse," the vampires as "demons," her bckouts as divine punishment—it all made a kind of terrible sense when you had no other expnation.

  "Thank you for telling me," Nara said finally. "For sharing The Promise."

  Maria studied her face. "You still don't believe."

  "I believe it matters to you," Nara said truthfully. "And I believe Thomas was trying to help you."

  Maria seemed to accept this, at least for now.

  After leaving Maria's room, Nara immediately returned to Baron Cassian's study. He looked up from his desk as she entered.

  "Well?" he asked.

  "It's worse than I thought," Nara said, sinking into the chair across from him. "She has an entire theological system. The 'light' versus 'demons.' Blood payment as redemption. A promised day of freedom." She shook her head. "I don't know how to even begin teaching her reality. Especially because..."

  "Because what?"

  "Because she truly believes it," Nara said quietly. "It's not just words to her. It's faith. It's what's kept her going all these years."

  Cassian was silent for a long moment, his fingers steepled in thought. "There is someone who might help," he said finally. "Viscount Gabriel."

  "The religious one?" Nara asked, surprised.

  "Yes. His background in theology might help with her beliefs," Cassian expined. "And he has experience with those who need... special understanding."

  Nara nodded slowly, seeing the logic. "When?"

  "I must write to Archduke Lucius first," Cassian said with a frown. "Any transfer between territories requires his permission, especially for someone like her." He reached for paper and pen. "It will take time. The Archduke doesn't respond quickly to such requests."

  "And in the meantime?" Nara asked.

  "Be careful with her beliefs," Cassian cautioned. "We shouldn't challenge them directly. Not until we know what's to be done with her."