Before he can react, the woman fires a red glowing bolt from her magical eye. It hits my shoulder, numbing my arm. Barely able to grasp the beads, I store them away.

Shielding myself with the coral growth, I manage to block two more bolts fired in quick succession. The curse easily negates the spell. With frustration she tries her ability again, only to chunder on the spot and collapse from overuse.

The spear stabs forward, I try to turn, but too slowly. It cuts through my leather clothes, scraping along my ribs.

“Aaahhh!” I cry out.

Spinning with the blow, the spear gets caught in the fabric. Its wielder holds on tight and is pulled towards me. I lash out, but he steps into my guard. A dagger appears as he tries to slit my stomach open.

He suddenly halts, the blade clattering to the floor.

Beneath the mask, I see pure dread. He mumbles a name with confused terror.

Buying me time to shove him back and slash his head. Easily cutting through his skull, but only manages to knock off his metal mask. Its protection against my abilities is effective. I snatch it up and pocket it into my inventory.

On the ground beside his death rattling body, I see the object that hit my shoulder earlier, a large red sphere.

A cold wind cuts through the street, whipping away the smog left behind by the explosives. The chilly wind smells oddly fresh for the choked streets, its summoner stands amongst the carnage that is revealed.

A tall Blackroot sporting a half-tattooed face grimaces beside Tarak-Son. Both are sweating profusely from overusing their powers whilst a furious battle commences all around them. The army that was brought to overwhelm me has faltered into a civil war. Dark soldiers hack and roar at each other with madness. The remains of the fleshy crater tell a tale of my blood clone's destructive end, spreading the enraging mist like a virus.

Cane stands only a few metres away, continuing his duel with the golem. He could only still be alive thanks to her shattered leg and the chaos unfolding. I stumble to his aid, finding my Riptail along the way. A man pounds the chest of his fallen ally like a drum.

His metallic hands collapse the ribcage but continue to mush his organs. I slice him down and trade a few blows with another. This Blackroot isn’t enraged, but fear has overtaken them. With a short axe, they attack wildly in great arcs, hoping to create an opening to flee.

I nimbly deflect, and cut his wrist causing the weapon to go flying. Without a word they retreat, choosing to risk the onslaught instead.

Dark clocks swarm the Golem, climbing her back as they attempt to get under her armour.

“Eat Cane!”

He gobbles down a few limbs while she’s distracted. His wounds slowly seal up thanks to his carrion ability. However, his purple flesh is almost completely covered in blood. I cast enraging mist on him now that the ability had returned to me.

We have to maintain this chaos and somehow break Taraks-Son’s focus. Just like us, he’s surrounded. But a wall of elites holds back the rage victims. These guards stand out amongst the Blackroots with larger figures covered in fine armour and gear.

I pull the large scuttle bomb and light it off a nearby corpse just as Cane batters away two attackers. The fuse sparks to life and burns rapidly. I don’t need to kill the man, just blow this thing as close to him as possible. I run forward, arm cocked and ready to huss it as far as I can.

“Aaaahhhhhh!” She screeches in my ear as she sprints at me.

The Golem smashes my exposed side. Knocking the bomb from my hand. Her claws tear at me. At first, ripping my chest apart before hysteria takes over from seeing the Mark of Fear.

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“Lies! She’s dead!” She screams and attacks my face. “You burned my sister! Lies!”

Through the pain, I could feel the heat of the fuse. Burning hot and close to my head.

“Cane! Protect me!” I command.

Her stoney claws shred my nose and lips. They dig and wrench my tongue free. The immense pain is overwhelming, consciousness slips in and out. Blood fills my mouth and threatens to choke me.

Cane roars a deep guttural warcry and smashes the Golem off me. I try to see him, but darkness consumes my vision. As panic erupts through me, I try to cry out. But only a wet gurgle escapes my shredded lips.

I feel his great mass nestle beside me. His warmth is a comforting beacon just like the nights we slept in the wilds.

He snorts out next to me and licks the blood from my face. My hands reach up to scratch his little fluttering ears, but they’re gone. Only raw flesh remains.

I wish I could see him through the shadows, my first friend in these harsh lands.

It’s just like the first time we met in that Daemon camp so long ago. I'm weak and blind, the supposed leader of the flock. It’s strength and foundations. But all along I’ve been leaning on Cane for support, he saved me.

Boom!

A ringing replaces the screams. The ground is pulled from beneath me as Hell eats me whole. Air rushes by as I free fall.

Down, down till a solid floor halts my descent.

I wake blind. My body is ruined by the ordeal. I gag from the pain and rancid smell. I’m back in the deep sewer system where I first met the Bastards. A soft trickle splashes from a distance, or is my hearing still fucked?

Runes appear, the only thing I can see and they carry a terrible message.

Cattle carrion (Iron) returned.

Enraging mist (Iron) returned.

No. I try to scramble around in the darkness, reaching for him. But a rubble tomb presses down on my legs, trapping me. All I can do is cry in silence. Cane’s gone, protecting me from the blast as I commanded him.

You selfish fucking bastard, I think to myself.

My anger flares as I try to escape. My broken body stirs the collapse above me causing a fresh cascade of stones to tumble.

I can’t let them win like this. The slavers, Blackroots, Yorktons, Tarak-Son, Harper. All of them did this. Playing me, cornering my flock.

A hot stream of liquid pours onto my face. The metallic taste against my lips stirs my stomach. With a grunt, I wiggle up slowly. Climbing by fractions of an inch until I feel it. The remains of some fallen sod. Without remorse, I bite into the exposed wound.

My teeth tear small chunks and rapidly chew it before the queasiness causes me to puke. With pure will I manage to swallow.

After a moment of gagging, a warmth builds inside me. My wounds itch as an energy pumps through my body. Like the effects of Honey’s dew only far slower.

I bite and consume more. The Cattle Carrion ability weaves my flesh together, the intense irritation of the rapid healing is a normal feeling now. Who would have thought the daily torture caused by my curse could create yet another boon?

In the black, under rubble, with the suffocating stench of faeces. I feast.

As the cold embers take heat, a new furnace of wrath burns.

Footsteps splash through the septic puddles and streams as I send my troops into the mess. We once called this home, how did we live in this shithole for so long?

I look over as Russ digs through an avalanche of stone. “The tavern isn’t above us you dumb topsider. We’re still a block away!”

“Quiet child. The Blackroots are still hunting,” he grunts in frustration.

“Any that weren’t screwed by that bomb went full crazy afterwards. They’ll still be tearing each other apart up there.”

Exhausted eyes glare at me under his greasy hair. Whatever happened to him and Seth before the Blackroots showed up had gotten to him. They were buddies before, just like Phil and his oath-spewing Queen. Friendly on the surface but using each other.

Now he’s a junkie that can’t find his favourite dealer.

“If he’s alive, the Bastards will find him. You should rest before tomorrow.” I say.

“He wouldn’t sleep if I was missing. Not one of his flock.” He mumbles that last part though I hear him in the confined space.

As we move deeper in, a shaft of light seeps through a crater high above.

Stoat suddenly squeals and dashes away.

“Stupid rodent! Wait for us!” I snap.

We give chase, our torch light bouncing back and forth along the brick foundations.

Until we find him on his knees. His body trembles in shredded clothes as he embraces the remains of a purple mess. Silently crying under a layer of gore.

Russ reaches out to him. “Seth…I.” He hesitates before taking him into his arms. All of them. They spread from his cloak, holding him steady. Protecting.

Outcasts need to stick together, I think to myself. Alone we are just freaks.

I join the embrace.

I hear Russ’s whispering to his friend. “We’ll get them for this. All of them.”