It was Kork’s. I saw him flipping it in a bar one day. He thought it was enchanted to bestow luck. But it actually brought me hope. Took three bloody jobs and a whole evening of drinking before he finally trusted me to spill the beans.

He said a Yorkton family member came out of their vault, a secure room in the house where they hold their most powerful artefacts, and he had visited another world. Whatever is in that room will be my way home.” He takes the coin back.

“When did you find out about this artefact?”

“About three months before I met you. Kork was my route into their pyramid until he fell out of favour.” Russ flips his beacon of hope into the air, his eyes following its arch. But as it dings into the gutter they remain fixed on the cobble ceiling.

I knew he was looking in the direction of that massive fortress the York’s called home. A standing army of elites nestled within those blue walls, armed with powerful gear and possessing incomprehensible abilities. Harper proved that when she dismissed Kork in the Zoo like a parent taking away a child's toy sword.

Russ needs to get inside by legitimate means, I was his latest.

I pick up the coin, wipe off the dirt and place it back into his hand.

“Even if you had got inside, it's called the vault for a reason mate. I understand your determination, but you have options now. Help me and we’ll go home together.”

He reluctantly nods, his lack of confidence evident.

We make it onto the tavern’s street. The old pub we now call home was flowing with the usual locals. I could see the chaos behind the windows as the drinks flowed and the Bastards played. Two more days until the auction, we had to be ready. Which meant I needed Russ by my side and focused.

He goes to push through the stable’s rotting doors, uncharacteristically avoiding the evening's shenanigans.

“Mother will do right by us, I promise,” I say as I hold him in the doorframe.

“How can you-”

A bark followed by heavy footsteps scraping on the road and a warcry erupts in my ear.

My body shatters the old wood as I’m thrown into the stable. Stoat wriggles out my jacket in fear as a guttural roar matches the hysterical warcry. Cane leaps to my defence.

I pull myself from the hay beds and see my attacker in the bleak street lights fighting my flock.

The stone golem from the Tower claws chunks of purple flesh from my hippo’s flank. Russ wrestles the bloodhound on the cobbled ground, using his multiple arms to stop it from tearing out his throat. The jailkeeper stamps his face, again and again while the sharp fangs creep closer.

“Folkston!” I scream while rushing into the fray.

In a moment of panic, I hesitate. Having to choose between my brother from home and my best companion.

Riptail in hand, I lash out at the golem. Russ can handle himself, I decide.

Sparks fly as it scrapes against her armoured side. She leans in to withstand the impact, giving Cane a chance to breathe. He takes the moment to chomp at her leg. His great maw engulfs her limbs and crushes. A gasp of pain silences the woman’s screeching.

A whimper follows as the hound is tossed into the street, a large dagger protruding from its neck.

“Bastardddd!” The jailer yells with rage.

He wails on Russ with a leather lash like a man possessed.

Distracted from the outburst, the golem grabs my sword and easily yanks it from my grasp. She throws it behind her to clatter amongst dark boots.

“Bollocks,” I whisper as the Blackroots emerge from the shadows. Hundreds of them.

The door from the tavern opens behind me as the merchant appears. His jolly face falls flat as he witnesses the scene. Without a word, he disappears back inside.

I pull a spare sword and my whip from my inventory. The long blue tendril would be useless against armour so I turn and crack it at the jailer. Catching his arm, he squeals aloud as his life pumps into me.

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The Blackroots march towards us. Armoured for war, their heads are covered with metal masks and hoods. All except one man.

He stands in the vanguard. Out of place amongst his men in a clean military uniform. Black through and through. The roots of dark ink mark his neck and weave across the bottom of his chin. With a simple gesture, he halts their advance.

We need to get out of here.

The pulsing whip goes quiet in my hand as Russ removes another blade from the jailer's throat.

“The tunnel out the back.” He says to me as he finds his feet.

Cane grunts as he launches the golem down the street. Blood streams from his head, deep grooves mark where she’d tried to dig.

“To me!” I command.

I gasp as he turns and retreats into the stable doorway, the full extent of the damage on display. Half his face is red, exposed bone frames an empty eye socket.

“Little rat!” The leader yells. “I have some questions for you.”

His face is all business.

“Me?” I ask aloud, a little surprised by the attention.

“Tarak-Son.” Russ whispers by my side.

His grim expression tells me enough.

I rub Harper’s ring, hoping it will gain her attention and bring aid in some form. My body screams at me to run, but I stand my ground. Knowing every second buys Folkston’s family and the Bastards time to escape out the back tunnel.

A small smirk plays across Tarak-Son’s face. “Don’t play innocent with me. I know of your previous crimes against the Tower’s Guild. Against my men.”

I scan the small army behind, slight overkill to catch a criminal. Surely the Blackroot's terrible reputation won’t be soiled by the death of one of their own. Especially by a simple Undercity murder.

He raises an eyebrow with acknowledgement and points towards my hand.

“Wild pets are dangerous to tame. I’m surprised your masters even bothered.”

Rut me. The Yorkton sigil flashes with recognition. That was a mistake.

Dark smoke wafts from his fingers.

Russ grabs me and attempts to pull me into the stables when an obsidian wall flashes into existence. Separated, my partner bangs against the solid material with multiple arms with no effect.

And like that, my fate is sealed.

“Go! Save the others!” I shout to him.

He holds my stare for a moment before nodding and turning away.

With a deep breath, I turn to Cane. “This is it. I’m sorry to get you into this mess. And I’m sorry Mother for failing you.” I say to the paved ceiling above.

Tarak-Son’s smoking hand continues to point at the solid wall, his face contorting with concentration. If only I could die under the sky and not in this shithole of a city. Though I know this isn’t a true hell. That would be if I let them take me alive.

Silently casting several of my abilities. I replace my whip with the beads and wet my sword against Cane’s bloody side to ignite the metal. I fight off a wave of faintness by spinning the stimulating sex toy.

Ready for our final stand, I accept my fate.

“Fuck your questions slaver!”

Tarak’s smirk melts as his other hand orders the advance. “Pacify him. Kill the animal.”

Several Blackroots rush forward. Abilities glow, bodies warp as the sound of unleashed blades rasps in the perpetual night.

Cane roars as the first close in.

Boom!

I shield my face from the spray of cobblestone and gore.

“Suck on these!” Suzie yells overhead as more explosions light up the street.

I can’t see the Bastards through the smoke, but I hear their excited high-pitched squeals as they rain death. They must be using the scuttle bombs we secured to collapse the tunnels after the auction. I owe that girl a real drink after this.

With my vision obscured, I almost trip on a dark body by my feet. The woman screams in agony as she clutches what remains of her leg. A separate her head with a quick slash.

Red bolts of fire shoot over, smashing the obsidian wall behind me. Dropping to the floor, I land in a puddle of boiling blood. A monster of flesh and blood grows out, pushing me back to my feet. At the same time, I cast Enraging Mist on the hippo blood clone.

“Charge,” I command.

The form rushes out of sight, knocking down more Blackroots that pour forward.

I can’t see the real Cane in the mayhem, but sickening crunches followed by shrill cries announce his battle.

Impacts smash the tavern overhead, raining glass and brick down on us. A body lands next to me. Guilt makes me witness the child who sacrificed himself to protect me. I brush his hair back to reveal a recently cleaned face, though I don’t know his name, I’d seen him many times laughing with The Kidd.

I touch the red leaking from his lips and smear it across my brow. “Thank you.”

Mark of Fear

The beads continue to twirl. The energy negating effect continues to suppress the faintness from using my abilities, though my recent wealth of Spirit was also showing.

The siege from above ends as the Blackroots continue to pound them with missiles and spells.

Grunts and screams replace the symphony of explosions.

Something hits my shoulder from above, but before I can turn to see what it is. Two figures emerge.

A tall cloaked man with a spear and a short stumpy woman with a single red glowing eye.

“He’s mine!” The man yells.