The laughter follows me to the merchant's office. The Baron is barely able to stand as he continues to waltz on the spot. The visored she-goyle lays back motionless with a burnt out ebony in the visor gap. Devonport and Nell lay across each other, eyes closed but still laughing.

Mother dies again in my mind, her emerald eyes glazing over to reflect the grey polluted sky. The fire still burns in me as I stand with shaking hands, to be the only conscious one in a room of sedated monsters.

I squeeze Suze’s handle, her solidity and weight reassuring me of reality. The metal edge slides smoothly through Devonport's throat. Wet chuckles bubble through as the joke dies with him. Her point skewer’s Nell’s eye, reaching deep to carve grooves at the back of her skull.

I flick blood across the room as remove the knife, soiling the treasures and art with their taint. My clothes stick to me with clammy sweat, I try to calm my racing pulse and breathe, but the bukke dream is too fresh in me.

For it felt like the first day I fell into Silva, tumbling from plains of reality within the blink of an eye. That same question of my sanity, and whether this is a dream?

The Lord of the Watchers co-trading company flourishes his imaginary partner and then spins himself like a dwindling dreidel into Suze. A soft grunt follows as she pierces beneath his sternum. That docile smile withers as he returns to the room, his eyes focus on me and looks down at the red handle.

“I was right.” He sprays dark blood with each word. “You are a wild one.” The pain finally catches up and his collapsing lungs attempt a petty scream.

Fear encapsulates him as all those who suffered under his Guild's need for profit. He tries to flee but I hold onto Suze, not wanting to lose my only weapons.

The blade tears out as he turns, lacerating him to his hip. The merchant collapses onto the last she-goyle, he violently twitches in the throes of a painful death rattle.

No room for doubt. I puncture his back over and over, the twitching ends, the dagger still falls, over and over.

I stand back and absorb the scene of gore that I created, the shocking violence by my hand doesn’t tickle my conscience. They deserved worse, I should have fed each one to Cane.

His body stirs. Omnia’s balls, he can’t have survived that. Unless he has his own abilities? I check the others but they remain motionless corpses.

The Baron shivers again, but it's not him. The she-goyle stirs.

I jump forward, bring Suze down at every possible angle to no Uke. I throw the Baron off to find a weakness. Her stone armour encases every inch, all grey with no gaps.

“Rut me dead.”

She answers with a heavy breath, shooting the burnt ebony into the air. I reel back, almost tripping on the bodies. The Baron's seal glints with gold and red. I snatch it up and grab a torch off the wall.

“If Man can burn the world, then let’s start with the Tower.” I toss the fire into the mess of pillows and fine wood. The dry fabric catches and spreads across the silk wrapped corpses. Tapestries are engulfed, their scenes of lovers frolicking and warring armies fuel the blaze. I slam the heavy door to elicit squeals from the cowering slaves.

They hide against the curving wall together like baby penguins in a blizzard. Shivering from cold fear rather than the elements.

“Calm my friends. We need to move.” I say to them.

One looks through her fingers and squeals at me, muking the stone floor beneath her.

My leather attire is awash with remains of the merchants, I must resemble a mascot for one of Omnia’s empowered factions.

A tiny boy looks past the filth, summoning bravery to maintain his gaze. Uke would be proud of this one.

“It is the Shepherd, Seth.” He says, a beaming smile shows off his missing teeth. His mere presence in the lobby and clear signs of beatings rekindle my inner flame.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

“Listen to me, we are leaving. But I won’t abandon a single tribesman to these monsters. Follow my lead, don’t say a word until we’re back with Mother. Understood?”

They reply with doubtful yeses, it will do.

Thick cast iron chains link them by collars, I’m unsure whether rust or dried blood paints the outsides.

A wicked glow of destruction flickers from under the door, no doubt the dogs outside will soon come barking. No time to grab the key.

“I’ll only say this once, act like slaves and stick to my shadow.”

I race down the stairs without a second glance, their rattling chains echo down the narrow staircase. I motion for them to slow down as we approach a quiet landing that held the guard's table I passed earlier.

You have the Baron's authority, you have to talk your way out. No powers, no more killing. I casually step out and into the brazier light.

They sit across the table facing away from each other. Bruised faces, split lips and torn clothes mark the difference since I last saw them. One sulking man sees me and leaps to his feet, grabbing the handle of his sword. “Halt!”

Ignoring his command, I grab the closest Satyr and hull them down the steps, causing the others to fall the rest of the way. They hit the stone floor hard and groan aloud.

“Stupid rutting slaves. Waste of the Towers fine coin. I’ll have you beaten till the fur falls off.” I scream in the boy's face as he looks back at me in terror, almost causing me to break character. Look above his eyes, I tell myself. Just as my acting tutor taught me.

Piia once told me that Man can’t see through an Esca’s camouflage because they struggle to differentiate one tree from the next. So I must become savage like the rest of their kind.

“Where are you going with-

I kick the youngling in the chest as he tries to stand, forcing the wind from his lungs and the tears from his eyes. I’m so sorry, it’s survival.

“Oi!" I scream in his face. “Who told you to stand?” I turn to the men. They shift their weight, shoulders and attention pointed towards the Satyrs now.

“I told Dev these wild animals can’t open a bottle of wine. Did that lard arse listen? Course not, he’s too busy rubbing gold across his nipples.” I snap.

Hearty laughs rubble from them, no one likes the merchant it seems.

“I hear the Baron promised him his pension’ll match his weight at retirement. Greedy bugger won’t fit up the stairs in a year.” I match their laugh, still letting the anger paint my face. Though it's not for the Satyrs.

“What’s what then?” He nods to the chain gang.

“Wasted a fine investment all over me and cut our Baron's hand in the process.” I say to ignite genuine worry from them, they even lean towards the stairs before I wave them off.

“He’s fine, already dancing in bukke land as we speak. I’m ta take these lot back, discipline this one.” I threaten to backhand the child, he recoils to the floor. “Then get another batch for them. You lads want me to grab you anything?” I ask while making my way to the next set of stairs.

“Get us a pack of ebonys wud?” He shouts after me as I start descending.

“Didn’t Tash tell you to quit.”

“Keep my sister’s name, out ya dam mouth!”

The descent flies by, the Tower’s mysterious magic aiding our rapid sprint down as we hit the bottom floor. The other members of the Guild guards must still mill outside as it’s empty.

“I’m sorry, it was the only way to get past them.” I whisper to the kid who meekly nods back in understanding.

“Are the others being held down in the cellars? Are they being watched over?”

“Yes, by a man and his beast.”

“Describe it?”

“Large, with a melted face and fur everywhere. It looks forever sad but growls like a storm when we disobey.”

“I’ll deal with it when the time comes.” Suze tends to answer most problems.

“FIRE! Fire in the Tower!” A shout from outside.

“Quickly.”

We rush into the ground and discover a long corridor with cells on either side. A small man sleeps under a table while his dog, a bloodhound, commands a chair and watches our approach. A short bark wakes his slumbering houndmaster.

“Nell! You betta have brought me a splash of that swill you promised.” He stands, barely looking over his seated mutt at his full height.

“Who are you?”

“Fire in the Tower! Need the slaves to hull water.” I flash the seal at his suspicious eyes.

“Now!” I yell in his face, aware of his companions' deep growls.

With a jangling of keys, he unlocks the cells, I yell for haste. My fury turning to fear at the possibility of company.

The jailkeeper pulls the Satyrs from their filthy cells, taking his frustration out on them. Soon the corridor is filled with seven more tribesmen, the darkness of the corridor and my glossy makeup, courtesy of the Baron's intimate collection, help to mask my identity.

Will Tiff see through this shambles of a plan? Probably.

The short man yanks a lanky teen to his knees so he can attach a long chain to his collared neck.

“The Tower will crush your already pitiful height by the time you’ve finished chaining them all. Urgency you stupid dwarf. Now help me wrangle them out.” I make for the stairs, pushing the Satyrs along.

“What's a dwarf?” I hear him say.

Soon enough the dog is barking the rest into a line as we head for the exit. Shouts and oaths of despair announce the guards charging up to help their revenue stream, a little to late. I grab a slave's collar and drag them through the flowing guards and out the door.

Tiff yells commands at her motley heroes, desperate to organise them. While also watching the roaring inferno that’s taken the top floor. The entire structure looks like a giant's ebony at night.

“You!” She spots me.