The squeal of despair rings off the tunnel's walls for a leaf fall, before falling silent. I share a look of fear with the garrison of Thorns in the jar light, only the continuous crash of the waterfall fills the eerie silence.

Cane rubs against my leg, reminding me of his gargantuan presence and instilling me with a whisp of confidence. I say a prayer of thanks to Mother for bringing us together, I would dread to face these harrowing Depths without him.

The young Satyrs that make up the Thorns whisper together, their hushed voices too low for my feeble hearing.

Cattle Senses

“We must abandon this place brothers, the seed is not worth our lives.”

“Mother is not with us here, she will not see our failure.”

“But what of the Voice’s wrath?”

“Damn the Voice, if he believes it is so crucial then where is he now? Safe in his furs under the sun’s rays. Where we should be as well.” The soldiers confer together.

“Silence your blasphemous cowardness or I will have you whipped and exiled.” Their Captain snaps without fear, a brute of a Thorn that clearly has some large Satyr nuts and I am happy to have tagged along on this dreadful trial.

“We should move forward! That could be one of the younglings!” I yell, blade in hand.

I charge around the dry edges of the waterfall, not so fast that I slip but quick enough to force the Thorns into action. They give chase as Cane abandons them in the light of their jars.

The tunnel dips down before me, and the shadows of the rough terrain and rocky formations dance with the flow of my captured light. From the darkness, Silva reveals one of its monstrosities.

A jet black Salamander the size of a great Dane hugs the ground. A thick fleshy tongue is outstretched from its gaping mouth and latched onto a tiny child. The Satyr boy is held fast only a few metres away from his demise, luckily having caught onto the point of a low stalagmite.

The amber valleys that make up the reptilian’s pupils expand to dinner plates with the sudden illumination. The tongue unlatches with a wet tear and slithers across the ground and back home.

Before I can consider any battle plan, the predator banks in a tight turn and scuttles away into the Depths.

The Thorns reach me as its long tail, with an ugly bulbous end, disappears from sight.

“What in Mother’s nightmares was that?” A Thorn called Aili squeals.

“The reason this place is called the Depths of Death I imagine.” I say, trying to calm my building panic and attempt to resonate a false bravery.

I believe I am their Shepherd, to lead by example will inspire and build trust, I lie to myself. This place is the mind killer, reshaping character whispers of a sudden ending.

I manage to tear my eyes from the intimidating void that houses unknown horrors and look at the tiny boy. He still clings with all his might to the stalagmite, his legs and arms are covered in fresh and old blood stains.

His face is clenched shut in petrified terror and pain, terrible pain from his most recent wound. The entire skin on the front of his throat is now gone, flayed away by the salamander's sticky tongue.

“Form a defensive wall.” I command the garrison.

“We were sent here by the Voice and Mother on a holy mission. Not to be ordered to our deaths by a rutting smoothskin.” The Thorns Captain barks at me.

“This boy is the mission. If I can talk to him and find out where the other younglings are, then we can be out of here for mushroom soup dinner tonight” I calmly retorted.

The Captain leers at me for a few leaf falls then turns to his subordinates.

“Form a wall. The beast retreated from Mother’s light, so jars out front!” He orders then turns to me. “Hurry, this boy is not the only reason we are here.”

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I send Cane over to assist in the defensive formation and to improve the soldiers’ morale. Then I tend to the boy.

“It’s okay little guy, the creature is gone, we have come to save you and your friends. Mother sent us.” I awkwardly attempt to ease the child's distress.

His eyelids crack open wide then close to slits due to the light, I hold my jar away to help his sight adjust. Slowly, I unclasp his hands from the rock, his nails are bloody and cracked from digging into the hard surface. This kid is going to have serious trauma for life.

He immediately latches onto my poncho, pushing his face into the fur for comfort. I can only assume the boy has seen me before, otherwise, a man appearing in the Depths would also be a terrifying aspect for a Satyr.

“You are safe now, I promise. We will bring you back home, back to your family. As soon as we find your friends. Can you help us find them?” He replies by sobbing into my chest.

“We continue on.” The Captain barks, pushing further into the tunnel with his troop.

I whisper down to the boy. “Okay listen, we are heading deeper into the tunnels to find the others.” He squeals at the proposition, clutching me even tighter.

“I won’t let you go, little guy.” I stand up, sheathing my blade and cradling the boy with one hand. I hold the jar of Mother’s light before me to guide us through this hellish realm.

Great teeth of stone close in around us as the rocky outcrops increase with a suffocating intensity. The Thorns lights bathe the world ahead, outlining the passage and reflecting off minerals and crystals like glistening mosaics in the wall. While the darkness snaps at my heels, I call to Cane and bring him beside me.

His acute senses will alert us to any approach from the chasing black tar.

As we pass by an opening of lateral abyss, the boy squirms in my arms and gurgles softly. I stop the crunching march to hear his words, but only mangled whispers of pain escape his tiny lips.

“I’m sorry, I can’t understand you.” I explain.

His eyes continue to shed tears as the feeble noises cause excruciating pain to his larynx.

“Stop. You are only going to hurt yourself.” He wriggles to be let down.

As I set him on the floor he indicates with shaking hands, pointing into the side entrance and then to himself.

“What is it?”

I look over to the Thorns who are beginning to distance themselves from our separate parties.

“We should stay as a group, even Cane can’t fight loads of those lizards.” I state while trying to guide the youngling along the path after the Thorns.

He pulls away from my grasp and contorts his face into an inaudible scream, then places his hand over his ear to listen and points back towards the side tunnel.

“You heard screams.” I feel so stupid, he wants to save his friends.

“Oi, the children are this way!” I yell out to the Thorns, they stop immediately at the sudden alarm and turn towards us. A small argument plays out between them, their words are lost to the stone and shadows from so far away but their body language tells of anger and mutiny.

Whatever the disagreement was, is sharply forgotten with a crack from the flat of the Captain’s sword across Aili’s face. The troop march back to us with sunken expressions, they’re a race of open skies and fresh air, this alien world is only supposed to be described in their stories of hell, but never experienced.

“Through here, the boy heard screams.” I tell the Captain.

He simply orders his troop forward without a word, the darkness finally shrivelling his furry raisins to match the rest.

We march in silence, our breathing hushed and our steps carefully placed. A clattering stone ricochets down the enclosing walls, a beacon to anything with hearing under the soil.

As we progress on, roots emerge and slither across to impede our journey. Cane barely manages to squeeze his girthy frame through the gaps, requiring assistance from the garrison.

Vividly understanding their current predicament, they struggle against the roots to keep such a mighty companion close by. This quest into Silva’s forgotten realm will demand the party as full strength.

Luckily the tunnel widens as the roots thrive, and a forest forms before us with brown reflected trunks and dancing shadows.

As the pathway thickens, we group tightly together to form a pack. The Captain leads the vanguard, his jar of shining green motes hanging from a stick in a woven basket.

I turn to ask the boy if we’re travelling in the right direction when I spot a grim clue. Caught on the end of a root is a scrap of hemp cloth and fur. The Thorns Captain halts at my gasp and follows my eyes, he rips the hemp off the root and rolls it between his fingers, inspecting the shredded threads.

The young Satyr holds his own torn trousers out and points at himself and then into the shadows. As if the Captain doesn’t already recognise the woven hemp yarn his tribe have used for generations.

However something catches the leader's eye and he roughly grabs the boy's trousers, the aggressive action startles me and the child. His disregard for the youngling is apparent as he rummages in his pockets and removes a golden treasure.

The plump seed is the size of a navel orange and shimmers in the jar light with a glorious shine of wealth, no wonder the Voice prioritised this valuable item.

The Captain hides the Ferrum seed inside his shoulder bag and turns to face his team.

“We are done here, back to the surface.” He commands without acknowledging the boy's frantic attempts to regain his attention. The youngling tugs on the Captain's leg before receiving a quick kick to the gut.

“You bastard, he’s just a child!” I shout out.

The business end of several spears are lowered towards me, closely followed by a deep gravelly growl from Cane.

The Thorns hold their position until the Captain steps in and smacks another Thorn across the head.

“Enough!” He yells in the soldier's faces, then turns to face me. “Uke watched over this boy in the Depths and only him. We must move with haste before-

A meaty slap and short scream cut him off as a Thorn is yanked into the shadows. The Captain yells commands, the jar lights are held high to vanquish the shadows, revealing large globes staring back at them.

A satanic cackling sinks my stomach with dread, the boy clenches his throat as he begins a harrowing shriek of terror.