Jynxx and Noxx crouched in the corner of their classroom, arms around each other, fear in their hearts – resolution in their eyes. Pryuuks' wings extended protectively shielding his charges, he dared whisper, “[I Can Hear You in the Back].”

  His wife begged for death. Pryuuk’s eyes closed; his beak-tip lowered – this was all wrong. He shook, he needed to throw wing, beak, and claw at that monster – anything to save Churi.

  Pryuuks wracked his brain. There had to be something. It would not end like this. The world shook – his wingtips pressed the floor, a cracking felt in the walls, followed by a deafening silence. It couldn’t be. Pryuuk’s skin tingled as the world tilted, the sound again – he knew what it was, something had cracked their district tree, and it was spreading; a chain reaction of ear-splitting pops – “[Classroom Stasis]!”

  Teacher and students froze, invulnerable statues, sliding across the floor towards the wall.

  The Artisan District flipped – overturned like a chessboard, pieces of a city flung like toys into the swirling mists. When the impact happened, muck and bog erupted; those parts of the district not immediately buried shook like the bog, and many tore free of their foundations, falling to the swamp below.

  Pryuuk’s school fell through the air, a long diagonal crack ran across its wooden surface, the rune-windows winked out, and hunks of crumbling plas-crete like chalk crumbled from its foundation. Before it could smash into the bog, a tsunami swept it away. Debris, swamp creatures, and a whole section of the bog churned in the water beside the schoolhouse, being swept away from Murkspire, along with the hopes, dreams, and lives of so many of the district's denizens.

  A triumphant roar, aether-distorting, echoed in their wake, its pitch escalating into a piercing howl, a clarian call that would haunt the survivors for a lifetime.

  Talon clung to the wall, his true form revealed, a monster-sized wyrmback, his toes digging into the wood, Churi gripped between his jaws. He cocked his head, eyes scanning the swirling waters pouring in from the windowsill. A polished jade vase swept past them. Talon's eye narrowed, his tail lashing out, plucking the thing from the waters, before placing it into his pocket space.

  Something had gone terribly wrong with the guild's plan. The Spire had known the instant the vatagand had broken free from the dungeon, and a plan had been set into motion. Something had gone terribly wrong.

  The Shamanic Pools – but how had the creature broken the wards? The collective spirits of the ancestors had always defended the pools. Something must have happened to upset the balance. Talon’s mind went to the stranger – Ren. He must have done something; too many coincidences for it to be anything else. Talon had been right; he was trouble, he was dangerous. If the vatagand had taken down one titan, others would soon follow, and Eldrin’s legacy – lost. They were all trapped in the Mire, and if the vatagand really were uncontrolled, it would devour everything, one mawful a time.

  Talon’s claws creaked the wood beneath him, a sense of unease as their makeshift raft flowed to bog knows where. The sounds of children screaming, in confusion and terror, their echoed cries muffled, broke through Talon’s thoughts. “They survived, I had hoped the impact – took care of them…” Churi moaned from between his massive jaws as her prone form stirred. Talon’s eyes narrowed. “Quiet down, I’ll deal with you soon enough.” He shook her violently, venting his frustrations. Churi fell silent, and the cries of the children died down. Talon held fast, waiting for whatever this was to finish.

  Camo didn’t know what was going on. Their simple gathering mission, to avoid the rage of the Lord Commander, had turned into an absolute dry-skinned disaster. His mucus glands were in overdrive, competing with all this stress. So to calm himself, Camo the frogkin had done what any of his kin did: he went for a nice bath in the natural bog. That's when things literally went off the deep end. Where once there had been relatively shallow canals surrounding the outer leagues of Murkspires' perimeter, there now were underwater trenches – snaking this way and that.

  Camo at first got excited; this would mean possible rare ingredients, some new phenomena – he might even be the first to find it. Sound carried further underwater, and almost every inch of the Mire was connected by channel, trench, and bog, and for a frogkin like Camo, whose entire body, from their eyeballs to their toes, acted like a giant ear – it meant they knew what was going on in the Mire better than most. So when the vatagand cut loose its tyrannical cry, Camo knew where it was, what it was, and where he was. The walls closed in around him, as every splash and snap sent his nerves into a tailless spin.

  Camo was a frog of science, an apothecary of some note, not that those sycophants in the tower would have noticed. If it couldn’t help them add to their Keepers' tomes, they didn’t care. He quickly learned the keepers weren’t interested in knowledge, at least not in general. What they were and were not interred in was something of a mystery. Seemingly fascinating breakthroughs in science and magic meant nothing to their council, and thus nothing to their guild members. The Lord Commander was the worst. That – thing seemed interested in control and security above all else. He saw conspirators around every corner.

  Camo shook his head. The Lord Commander was an unwelcome distraction. He had bigger fish to swallow. If a vatagand large enough to burrow these tunnels were loose in the Mire, then the extent of its damage would be…

  It would not be good, and the results would be impossible to predict. Once the bog started flowing from one area to the next, there was no telling which swamps might flood, which barriers might fall. Entire canals might shift – creating a cascading effect.

  So when Camo heard the rush of water and felt the steady increase of its flow, he knew he was in for a ride.

  Talon had gone into a kind of waking slumber, the type of thing any good tree-climbing lizard knew how to do, as he clung to the wall. Their journey to wherever all this water flowed had become manotaenous, as they bobbed in the water like a cork, occasionally sticking in place, before they were inevitably knocked free.

  The wyrmback, [Eldrin’s Favorite], had just given up hope of ever getting out of this situation – when the bottom fell out from under them, again.

  They’d been scewered by violet crystal formations jutting the length of the building. Before Talon could recover or make any move to escape, the entire structure had cracked in half like an egg – and gone blessedly still.

  The constant stream of water falling from above filled the cavernous space, and it almost drowned out the sounds, like an army of beetles clacking on stone. His eye swiveled to Churi, still in his mouth, before he spat her out. He needed to take stock of his situation, and this bird was probably useless anyway – Talon had bigger problems. He scuttled up and over the side of the building into a dimly lit chamber, where a soft luminescent glow came from the myriad of crystals scattered like moss on a damp, swampy log.

  He’d landed on an island, in a subterranean cavern. They must have been suspended in the air, a not inconsiderable distance, because as the water flowed off the edge of their island, he couldn’t hear it splashing below.

  Talon scuttled down the side of the building before leaping onto the crystal formation, sliding to the ground below with a final hop.

  He tilted his head, trying to pinpoint the direction of the ever-increasing sound. His danger sense had gone from a tickle to a more insistent buzz – Talon was worried. He scanned the surrounding platform, but his view was mostly obscured.

  Talon wasn’t feeling like himself; he’d not been in his true form for centuries. He found it distasteful to say the least – a reminder of his base self – disgusting. His father, Eldrin, had saved him from a life as a dumb animal, destined to graze sage-moss from the Spire peaks.

  Talon, so distracted by his worry over the approaching sounds and thoughts of his past, didn’t hear the wall opening up behind – not before it was too late.

  Rotmouth the [Filth Crowned], supreme leader of the troggladytes, exited – come to inspect. He reached out a muscled hand, nearly as large as his oversized, greasy, pockmarked face, squinting through his one good eye, the other missing – a jagged scar running from hairline through an empty eye socket, and ending at his collar bone. A coif of inky black hair sat gloriously atop his head; it was practically a lion's mane, at least for a troggladyte.

  Rotmouth wrapped his hands around Talon’s neck while bringing his muscled bulk down atop the lizard's body, with a thwak. Talon flopped like a fish in a vain attempt to free himself from the supreme troggladyte.

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  Rotmouth smiled through stunted, yellow teeth, jutting through thick pink lips at sharp angles. He let out a long cacophonous bray as Talon went limp before grunting to his feet. The boss of these caverns, now that the great worm had gone, slung his food across one bony shoulder, disproportionally sized compared to his ripped, bulging arms, squat trunk, like legs, and swollen pot belly. The sounds of his approaching horde turned a near corner, he pointed to the ruins in the center of the cavern and shouted, “Collect food!” Before he turned and lumbered back towards his throne room, Grand Daddy-Uncle’s Kitchen – if only his sire could see him now. He let out a wet gurgle, meant to be a chuckle, as his mishapen bulk and Talon’s prone form vanished into the shadows.

  Churi awoke with a start as the face of a – child, misshapen and humanoid, pressed up against the bones of her cage. Spittle dribbled from the corner of its mouth as it wore a stupid grin. The child pushed a mushroom cap through the cage, an expectant look in its white eyes – pupils barely visible pinpoints.

  Churi was too tired and confused to scream. Her mind was nearly fractured, she’d accepted her death, only to be spared – as one disaster after another struck. Now she was alone, abducted, and Pryuuk was –

  “My love, you're awake.” His voice sobered her up – Churi’s eyes narrowed. She pulled her wings in tight, saddling her knees to her chest – she shuffled in the tight confines of the cage.

  Churi needed to lay eyes on Pryuuk. A flicker of firelight washed over the hard-packed dirt floor, and hunched figures gathered around its source in the distance. She was in a row of cages, and in the cell next to her, she spotted Pryuuk, one of his wings hung limp, and dried blood clumped in his head feathers. Churi smiled at the sight of him, “I’m – fine, Pryuuk, I thought I’d never see you again.”

  He smiled, “I’m afraid we’ve gone from bad to worse, my queen –”

  Talon’s shriek of pain whipped Churi’s head in the direction of the campfire. Terror struck her at the thought of him – the blood drained from her beak, when she realized what his cries meant, there’s something worse than Talon here.

  “We’re in a dungeon, Churi – trogladytes, they have taken us –

  Pryuuks pursed his beak, a thin slit running its length, as he considered his words carefully, “The twins are here – unconscious, but alive, I’m going to get us out of here – don’t worry.”

  Churi didn’t like the sound of that. When Pryuuks said not to worry – she worried. The bird may have been bookbound, a lover of children, and a gentle soul, but he made terrible decisions when it came to protecting her. He was fiercely loyal; she knew that look in his eye.

  Churi hardened her resolve. She would save them all, a simple street vendor she may be, but she never backed down from a challenge – no matter how difficult the customer. Churi looked at the crude lock of her cell and then at Talon, lashed to a beam suspended above the fire, her eyes narrowed. “A wyrmback? How, there are no lizardkin – just what are you, Talon?” The question seemed to stick in her brain, for she felt it should make her despise him even more, but it did not. Churi knew people, spent her whole life talking with them, hearing their problems, and helping them in any way she could: a smile, a drink, or even a spot of advice. What Churi knew in that moment was that she could trust Talon.

  Bile reached the back of her throat as she witnessed his torture. A vicious-looking trogladyte, at least double the size of the next largest in the crowd, uses a jagged knife to peel the skin away – around the base of Talon’s tail. Talon’s eyes were wild, as his bonds allowed barely a wriggle, his nostrils flared as his tongue flicked out, fighting to control the pain.

  Rotmoth reached down with a massive hand, gripping the base of Talon’s tail, a wicked grin splitting his face, “Childs, this meat gud best!” So saying he flexed his bicep, the thick spidering veins sagging through his skin, sprang to life, jiggling like fat caterpillars. Talon’s tail stretched, skin and sinew pulling away from each other, as one by one the fleshy strands snapped away. The tip of his tail snaked around from behind Rotmouth, flailing, as it desperately attempted to fight away the attack.

  Rotmouth gritted his teeth, snapping a rotten inscisor in the process, his lips curled in a snarl, as he braced himself, giving one last heave – Talon’s tail broke loose in a wet, meaty snap. Green blood streamed from Talon’s rear, a bone protruding from his exposed flesh wriggled fiercely, unaware of its missing components.

  Talon’s eyes flew wide as they danced around the room before settling into Churi’s gaze. She held it, as she leaned forward, gripping the bones, a look of determination etched in the windows of her soul – a look Talon vowed never to forget.

  Rotmouth raised the tail overhead, still squirming, as he pumped his arms. His children-cousins fell on their knees, mouths wide, like chicks begging for their mothers' chewed food. The only piece of clothing Rotmouth wore, a ragged, stained shift across his groin, stiffened, “Eats.” He stepped forward, ringing the blood from Talon’s lost extremity, dripping it across exposed tongues and pockmarked faces. A small child crawled forward, touching its palms to Rotmouth's foot, “Uggly!” he spat, before kicking the misshapen thing across the cavern, its body impacting the wall with a snap, and a yip, before falling silent and still.

  Churi wouldn’t fail. As Rotmouth walked to the far side of the cavern, his people, crawling behind him, their arms outstretched, begged for more. He approached a curtain stretched across a notch in the wall. When he pulled it back, there were prone figures, lying on piles of rags, they had no limbs, only sagging, swollen bellies and breasts, they were…

  “Mothers – I bring taste good.” He stepped past the curtain.

  Churi’s mind snapped, all thoughts emptied from her head – the queen of street tea took action, “Not at my cart, [I Lost my Key].” The cage door swung free, and Churi wasted no time.

  She wasn’t in a dungeon surrounded by mutants; this was just another workday. Churi crawled on all fours. She’d dropped something, and her customers would be so angry if she didn’t get back to her stall soon – there, she spotted it.

  Churi wrapped her hand around the wet, sticky handle of Rotmouth’s knife. She stood up without fear. If she didn’t get this rope cut away, her umbrella would be stuck closed for the lunch rush. She couldn’t afford any mistakes now. Pryuuk and the school children counted on her. Churi smiled as the image of Pryuuks' smiling face warmed her heart. She would see him soon, after today’s shift. They had both been working so hard lately that they seldom had time to share. No, she wouldn’t let that stand any longer – once she completed this task, she would be free, and things would get better.

  She sawed on Talon’s bindings. There were so many, she would never finish in time. What ropes had she used? Was her knife even sharpened? Churi shook her head; a vendor's work was never done. Pryuuks cried out, Churi smiled, “Dear, I told you not to bother me at work? Where are the children?” She smiled. He could be so stubborn sometimes. Footsteps thudded behind her. She spoke over her shoulder, “You’ll have to wait – I’m sorry, I’ll have your drink ready in –”

  That was the last thing Churi ever said. Rotmouth gripped her beak in one hand and her neck in the other, a sound so terrible tore from Pryuuk’s beak, that even the headsman’s axe might be stilled – Churi’s head ripped from her body, like a root from damp soil, blood showered across the room, spattering the captives' cages.

  Pryuuk fell silent, as beads of Churi’s blood hit him in the eye. Beside him, Jynxx and Noxx, now awake, cursed and spat, rage manifest in their curdled screams. Rotmouth lifted Churi’s head, letting her body slump to the floor, as a pink, swollen tongue elongated from his mouth, his lips pursed, as he suckled on the gore of her neck stump.

  Rotmouth slurped and sucked, smacking his lips, as he spun around to face his children. Blood dribbled down his chin, ran down his chest, and pooled in the notch of his swollen gut. A mewling sound came from behind the curtains, the smell of fresh blood piquing the clan breeders' interests.

  Rothmouth [Filth Crowned] gave a toothy smile, “Coming mo–” his own knife erupted from his chest, a still beating heart speared in place, his children reached up from their knees, a hunger in their eyes. Rotmouth's corpse flopped to the ground, where the denizens of the cave swarmed it. Talon looked down, the corner of his lip twitching in distaste, as Rotmouth was torn limb from limb, with teeth sinking into flesh and his stinking shift ripped free in the children’s eagerness to feast.

  Talon looked away in disgust, his eyes moving to the cages along the wall. He strode over and broke the locks on each, freeing the three captives. There were other cages, but whoever or whatever they had been, they were beyond rescue. The twins dashed out of their cage, headed straight for the feasting troggladytes, before Talon reached out strong hands, gripping them by the shoulders, as they struggled to pull away, desperate to avenge Churi’s death.

  Talon sighed, the only thing he hated more than his own kind – children. He squeezed, hard, drawing blood, as he forced the boys to their knees. They continued to struggle as he bent down to their level, “Look at me.

  The combination of the pain and Talon’s harsh tone bit through the madness. “Churi needs you now, Pryuuk’s mind is gone, and if we are to escape from here, we must – work together.”

  The boys turned to face Talon before sharing a look. The twins' gaze slid past his raptor's stare to Pryuuk, who sat in his cage, knees hugged to his chest, rocking back and forth, his beak twitching as he muttered silently to himself. They nodded, squaring their shoulders and setting their jaws.

  Talon released them, satisfied with their response. He recognized the type; the guild had been willing to go to war for fear of losing their future service, after all. He walked over to the scuttling, feasting forms scrabbling in the dirt and slop, for the chance of a taste of their fathers' flesh. Talon reached down and plucked Churi’s head from the ground, as of yet untouched, her eyes still twitching, before pulling the Celadon vase from his storage space, jamming Churi’s head neck first in the stem, in a reverse sucking sound, and placing both back in his storage.

  He turned towards the exit, not bothering to look in Pryuuk’s direction, “Let's move, boys, before their dinner’s finished.” As Talon exited the cavern known to the troggladyts as Grand Daddy-Uncle’s Kitchen, he paused, neck stiff, his eyes slid to the curtain against the wall.

  The twins behind stood on either side of Pryuuk, gripping his hands. As Talon stopped, they leaned forward to look at each other before they turned their heads in the direction of the curtains and the mewling sounds coming from beyond. The Lord Commander turned on his heels and marched to the curtain. He swiped them aside, disappearing behind them. Shrieks of alarm, like sirens in the night, were abruptly cut short, followed by the sound of wet gurgling.

  Talon exited, the curtains, a blank look on his face, before he marched from the cavern – never to look back.

  The twins looked away, thinking again about Nom’s noodle shop, and the lesson he taught them not so long ago, about hunger, and the lengths one might go…

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