The deep woods opened up to reveal a structure that looked more like a ribcage than a house. It was a manor built into the side of a jagged cliff, overgrown with pulsating vines that seemed to breathe in sync with the forest. This was Evelyn's sanctuary—the place where "monsters" were born.
"Welcome home, Alaric," Evelyn said, stepping through the threshold. The air inside smelled of formaldehyde, dried herbs, and something metallic.
Alaric stumbled as he entered. The heightened senses from the vial were starting to fade, replaced by a crushing exhaustion. He looked around the room and froze. Shelves lined the walls, filled with glass jars containing eyes, hearts, and limbs of creatures he had spent his life hunting.
"You live in a graveyard," Alaric rasped, his voice still tinged with a monstrous growl.
"I live in a library of life," Evelyn corrected, lighting a candle with a snap of her fingers. The flame burned a strange, pale green. "Most people see an end when they look at a corpse. I see a beginning. I see potential."
She turned to him, her eyes scanning his armor. "Take it off. The holy steel of your plate is reacting poorly to the Chimera heart. It's burning your skin, isn't it?"
Alaric hesitated. To remove his armor was to strip away his identity as a Paladin. But the pain was becoming unbearable. He unlatched the buckles, his hands trembling. As the breastplate fell to the floor with a heavy clang, the sight underneath was horrifying. The skin around his stitches was blackened and bruised, the veins glowing with a faint, restless purple light.
Evelyn approached him, her touch surprisingly gentle as she examined the wound. "The heart is trying to expand, but your human body is too small, too weak. We need to 'adjust' you further."
"No more," Alaric hissed, grabbing her wrist. "You've already taken my soul. I won't let you turn me into one of your puppets on a shelf."
Evelyn leaned in, her face inches from his. "You aren't a puppet, Alaric. You are a masterpiece. But even a masterpiece needs to be finished. Now, sit. If I don't stabilize the mana flow, your new heart will incinerate your lungs by dawn."
Alaric let go, his strength failing. He sank into a heavy wooden chair, staring at a jar on the desk. Inside was a human heart, perfectly preserved, labeled with a name he didn't recognize. He realized then that he was no longer the hunter. He was the most precious specimen in the Witch's collection.