“You think he’s going to be okay?”

  Isaac turned to Flic and went to shrug but stopped himself; he could see the hidden concern in her brow. Since the Cloudwalker Islands incident, the big man had been…off. Normally the joker of the group, he was more subdued than usual. Introspective. Isaac knew why. Francisco felt like he was getting left behind, and if Isaac was honest with himself, Francisco was.

  The big man kept holding himself back, afraid of allowing his berserker rage to take over. Afraid of hurting his friends. But there was something more there. Something that Isaac could not put his finger on.

  He had tried to speak to his friend, but every time Francisco saw Isaac coming he would run for the hill. Doing everything he could to avoid the conversation. They both knew they needed to have it; it was just a matter of when.

  If this were Isaac of old. Isaac, still on Earth, then he would have ditched Francisco. Isaac would have seen him as baggage holding him back, but that was a different person. There was still darkness in him, but if he was thankful for one thing, it was that The Other Side had shown him the value of friendship.

  “I…”

  Flic shook her head. “You don’t have to say anything; I can see it written on your face.”

  Isaac chuckled darkly. “Will he be okay doing that in there? Definitely. Is he okay overall?” He lifted his hands, indicating that he did not know the answer.

  “It’s simple,” said Redd, on his left. “Either the big fucker finds a way to pull himself up the mountain or he gets left behind. There is no shame in it. Rarely does everyone who started in a group do what is needed to become who they need to be.”

  “He’s our friend,” said Flic. “We are not leaving him behind.” She looked to Isaac, who gave her a firm nod and a squeeze of the shoulder.

  “We are not leaving anyone behind. But if he does not do what is needed, then he won’t like what I’ll have to put him through to be better.” Flic gave him a look. “It’s what we had to go through to gain some semblance of control over our Inks.”

  “Yes, he has to go through an ordeal before he comes out the other side, but the fucker was already angry before the whole berserker thing,” said Redd. “The first time I met the fella, he squared up to me. Me, as an Earl. I don’t think the big idiot was even ranked. Yet, his rage convinced him that the fight was one he could win.”

  Isaac nodded. “I’ll speak to him when I can. Right now, let’s hope he gets the information we need. Flic, you do your thing. Redd and I are going to act as supporting cover.”

  Flic nodded. “I can’t believe you trusted Francisco of all people to gather information.”

  Isaac laughed. “We all have to get out of our comfort zones. Do things we are not used to. It’ll be good for him. Plus, making him wear a dress is just plain funny.”

  She rolled her eyes before disappearing among the shadows.

  **********

  Felicity embraced the shadows.

  They enveloped her before she allowed herself to sink down, as if she was entering a black pool of ink. The first time she had tried shadow walking, it frightened the shit out of her.

  Everything was muted.

  The colour of the world disappeared. Leaving only a haze of blackish-grey. Everything outside of her shadow world slowed to an almost standstill. She had panicked at first, thinking herself stuck in this land of purgatory. Her own body nothing but an outline of wispy black smoke. She had no features. No solid mass to speak of.

  She was shadow.

  Once in the shadow realm, she could only travel along paths of shadow, jumping from one shadow to another like a bridge. The difficulty she found was trying to move in areas of extreme sunlight or total darkness, where there was no shadow or very little. She was developing plans on how to combat that, but right now, with the overhanging tree branches along the path and the sun all but set, she welcomed her expanding domain.

  The speed at which she moved from where she had been with Isaac and Redd to crouched out of sight of the guards, where she had a clear shot, was fast.

  Zero to sixty in under five seconds, fast.

  Speaking to her spirit guide Shalim AKA Night Sun, the big cat was like any other cat in existence. An asshole. So getting any information out of him was like walking across gravel barefoot, but what information she got out of him spoke of her powers increasing with every rank she climbed. She was quick now, but when she became a Duchess, Archduchess or beyond, she would do things that boggled the mind.

  Move through shadows instantaneously.

  Create minions.

  Fire arrows that blocked out the sun.

  Coming out of the shadow realm she stayed crouched, rouge clothing doing its best to keep her hidden. Her hood created a false shadow that, once up, always hid her face, no matter the light. Nightwhisper Wyrm boots made her footsteps all but nonexistent as she looked around.

  There were only two guards out front. Hmmm. Her eyes narrowed, and she darted through the surrounding shadows, scouting the area around the building until she came back to her original resting place. She saw no one else. Flic was still suspicious, but she guessed the party inside had drawn everyone in.

  The gang they followed to this spot had been a pain in their ass since leaving the Cloudwalker Islands.

  Mercenaries slash bounty hunters, the group called themselves The Thunder Thighs Company. Their motto: We protect the plus-size. And the prize.

  The other three had never heard of the group, and when they had questioned anyone they came across about them, all they got were dark looks and people quickly running the other way. The only thing they knew all the members had in common was tattoos of Amazonian-sized women. Some even had large portraits on their backs.

  Felicity shook her head and took out her bow.

  Bounded in shadow, it was a gift from her mentor, Miss Laveau. A unique weapon that worked with her Ink’s ability. The upper and lower limbs of the bow were curved in a Gothic style, while the handle grip looked like the jaws of a big cat. Bow string was nothing but a line of shadow.

  She notched an arrow as Aura poured off it like dry ice.

  Once upon a time, a group of bandits with a fascination for large woman would have confused or frightened her; now, she just chalked it up to the weirdness The Other Side brought out in people.

  Pulling her arrow back, she let it loose and fired another within a split second. Both guards were only Viscounts and weak ones at that.

  Each arrow struck a guard in the chest. They did not move or intercept, so fast was the attack.

  Black—greyish rope-like tentacles burst from the arrow’s tips and stuck, quickly wrapping them from head to toe. Not a word was uttered by the guards as Flic reached through the shadows and pulled the bodies to her.

  They were still alive. Only incapacitated.

  Job done, she fired a signal flare into the sky, signalling Isaac and Redd to take their positions.

  **********

  Francisco took in the being he thought was just a man, that looked like a bear, but the closer he got the more he was proved wrong. The thing was a good six foot-six with a gut the size of a stability gym ball. Patches of thick auburn hair bordering on ginger covered the majority of his body. The closer Francisco got, the more he could see the hair had been either previously waxed or shaved, but it was so thick that it grew back denser and coarser. Leaving the leader looking like he had alopecia.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Face looked human, but was slightly pointed like a bear’s with enormous canines shining in the gloom.

  “Come to daddy, my darling!” bellowed the leader, as he smacked the empty chair next to his throne.

  Why do all these dickheads always have shitty ass thrones?

  Francisco smiled coyly as he took in his surroundings. Thirty people who opposed a threat. Another twenty or more women, servers and workers. A mixture of humans, goblins, and whatever that thing was with little spiral goat horns coming out of its forehead and an ash-white male face that almost looked like paint. Dressed in shaman robes and carrying a wooden staff that held a milk crystal ball in a claw-like hand at its end, the male surveyed the room with an upturned lip.

  “Don’t worry about Mithran,” said the leader, “he is allergic to fun. It makes him feel superior to everyone else.” He patted the chair next to him again. “Now come, darling. Daddy is waiting.”

  Francisco nodded and did as he was asked, moving between the crowd and the thick smoke that rested like a blanket of fog against the ceiling. He got more than one dirty look from a woman, their size and bulk putting him to shame. Finally reaching his destination he took a seat.

  A paw-like hand rested on his knee, patches of hair growing back where it had been shaved. “So my darling…what is your sweet name?”

  “Fran—” Francisco swallowed the last words.

  “Fran?”

  He nodded, using the paper fan he got from Flic to cover the lower half of his face. “Just Fran. What do they call you, big, strong and handsome?”

  “Saimon.”

  Francisco’s gaze rested on Saimon’s bear-like ears. He caught Francisco’s gaze and said. “My mother fucked a beastkin bear and I was the result. Half human—half beastkin. She died in childbirth. There’s a reason the different species don’t breed. It doesn’t end well for the female. Although born on this planet, I was just lucky I wasn’t born a Descendant. Those poor fuckers. Half of them are psychopaths, the other half are deformed freaks.”

  Francisco said nothing as his thoughts ran wild. Saimon. Was the first adult person he had met who was born on The Other Side. Apart from those two kids in the Green Emerald domain, he had yet to meet anyone who claimed this planet as their birthplace. Saimon’s narrowed eyes caused Francisco to giggle as he tried to diffuse the awkward silence.

  But still Saimon said nothing.

  Francisco cleared his throat. “Err, it doesn’t matter to me where you were born, sweetheart, as long as you are up for a bit of fun.”

  Saimon took a swig of his drink before wiping his face with the back of his hand. “Glad to fucking hear it. Most people see me as a freak. They look at me and pity me. But look what I have accomplished. Creating the strongest band of mercenaries in the area. None of my men go hungry. None of my men go without. We are a band of brothers.”

  “It’s good to know that I have such strong men around me to protect me this close to the Bleeding Peaks. I would love to travel further through the mountain pass—”

  A paw-like hand grabbed his forearm with an iron grip. “Don’t say such stupid things. Never. Ever. Ever! Try to travel through those mountains.” Everyone was now watching but Saimon did not seem to care. “The Bleeding Peaks are nothing but death! Death and ruin to anyone who seeks passage through its roads. There are things that live in those mountains and forests that make trolls look cute. Do you hear me? Never go there!”

  Francisco swallowed slowly as all eyes were on him and the room had gone silent. He nodded.

  Saimon held his gaze for another handful of seconds before returning the nod as sound slowly returned.

  After another few drinks and when Saimon’s cheeks were redder, Francisco asked a question. “What do you care if anyone travels beyond this point?”

  Saimon sipped at his drink sourly before answering. “We were once a bigger group. More members. Mithran’s older brother was in charge then. Just as miserable as Mithran, but smarter. Braver. Anyway, Mithran’s older brother wanted to venture further. The wealth you can find in the foothills alone of the Bleeding Peaks mountains is legendary, but I knew better; I knew we were onto a good thing. Some people don’t know when to stay in their lane, but I did. Others wanted to venture further with Mithran’s brother; some like me were happy where they were.

  “The group split and parted ways. No hard feelings.”

  He took another swig before he continued, the flames from the firepit reflecting in his eyes. “Truly, there were no hard feelings. Less than a week had passed when we heard—a sound so animalistic and evil that—” he shuddered. “Coming out of our old hideout, which was further up the road than this one, we saw a handful of the group who had left with Mithran’s older brother running back to us. What was chasing them—some of them were missing limbs—some should have died but were zombies chasing the living—some—” He shuddered again. “Anyway, that is why the saying around here is: travel via the Serenia River. It will lead you to the land of serenity. Only take the bleeding path if you wish to pay the price of blood it demands.”

  “You shut your stinking mouth!” a shout cut through the noise as Mithran wandered over. Swaying slightly where he stood, he gestured with the glass in his hand, causing beer to splash on the floor. “You shut your stinking mouth. You have no right to talk about what happened when you did nothing to help. When you hid like a coward, too afraid to do what was needed.”

  Another silence swept through the bar, but this one was tense. A long time coming.

  Francisco watched as those around Mithran slowly backed away, while others in the distance reached for their weapons.

  “You had no one you cared about in that party. You were happy to see them go. Happy to take the leadership position from my brother, like a jealous friend jumping into the bed of his widowed wife. “

  Saimon shook his head. “Aww Mithran, we have been over this again and again. There was nothing I could do.”

  Mithran spat on the floor. “Nothing you wanted to do.”

  “Yet, I was not the one who stayed here while his brother ventured out. I was not the one who remained safe while his dear older brother risked his life for glory.”

  The air had changed from tense to dangerous, as now a clear division had formed amongst the group. It was subtle, but Francisco could see those who agreed with Mithran by the dark looks on their faces, of someone who had lost a friend.

  Mithran took a step forward. “Sitting here, like you are some great chieftain, yet what have you done to improve our lives? Throwing these ridiculous parties. You have no vision. No foresight. No—no—”

  Saimon leaned over to Francisco, draping one arm over his shoulders. “You see, my dear, Mithran here is what we like to call a MIB.” Francisco raised his eyebrows. “Moaning Little Bitch. Moaning little bitches never have the balls to do or take what they want, so they sit and brood and sulk, like a teenager. Never realising that the problem is not with anyone else but them.”

  Another step from Mithran. “That is rich coming from a half-bred freak too scared to do anything but get drunk and fuck these...women.”

  “How dare you talk about my lovelies—“

  “What have you done since taking over? Nothing apart from taking orders from scum slavers and going after bounties beneath us. My brother would be rolling in his grave if he knew how low you forced us to stoop.”

  “Yet we are richer for it!” laughed Saimon, as he slapped Francisco on the back, causing him to jerk forward. “Although a slaver, Urn gives us good rates on every person we deliver to him. I know he has his… quirks, but unlike the rest of the slavers around here, he is the only person I remotely trust.”

  “Trust!”

  “Well, trust is a strong word; more like tolerate.”

  “We would be richer still if we were the ones in charge of the slave trade—if we were the ones that everything had to go through—if we were the ones that everyone feared in this area. Yet we aren’t. We have nothing but a joke. When my brother was in charge of this group everyone feared—“

  “There is a reason your brother is dead. He never knew when it was better to hold peace talks instead of fighting everything that moved. There is a saying, dear Mithran, that it is better to be the table everyone wants to break bread at, than it is to be the one where you are the only one eating.”

  “Nothing but nonsense spewed from a coward. This is The Other Side, if those people along the broader did not want to be slaves, then they should have grown stronger or joined a group that could protect them.”

  “Like this group protected you?” smiled Saimon.

  “What—what—what’s that supposed to mean?”

  Saimon laughed even harder. “I think you know Mithran.”

  “No. No, I don’t. Please enlighten me.”

  “Did you never wonder why you were not chosen to go along with your brother and the others?” Mithran said nothing as he swallowed the lump in his throat. “It was because, Mithran, my dear—dear friend, that you were—are, too weak. Like the others who did not venture with them, we knew our limitations. We knew we would get slaughtered the minute we left our safe haven. So we chose to stay behind. I know the height of my ceiling and what I am capable of. Your brother knew the height of yours. That is why he lied to you, and asked you to stay here and keep an eye on things,” said Saimon with air quotes. “He knew you were…what is the saying?” He clicked his fingers. “A sensitive child.”

  Chuckles from a few darker looks from some.

  “We are better than this; we need not go after the scraps the DHC throw our way.”

  “Those, scraps the DynastyHealers Collective is throwing our way, is the reason you are warm with a full stomach. There are four of them. Four idiots who attacked a nation. Four idiots who now have everyone from the Beast King to The Silent King after them. There is a looong line of enemies after Isaac Levity and his little bunch of merry men. We are just going to be the first to collect the bounty on their heads.”

  Mithran laughed. “You see, that is why you shall never amount to anything great. Instead of just collecting the bounty on their heads, we should capture them and start a bidding war between all parties. We have the--”

  “Enough!” Saimon downed his drink in one and leaned forward. “Mithran, because I honoured and respected your brother, I shall allow this disrespect, like all the others, to go unpunished. But there is only so much one can take until one snaps. Know your place. Know your limits. Now I suggest you go and enjoy the rest of the night before things turn nasty.”

  Francisco did not think Mithran would do as he was told, but with an up-curl of his lip, he turned on his heels and disappeared amongst the crowd.

  Saimon looked at the spot where Mithran had been, eyes boring a hole in the wooden floorboards before sighing and turning back to Francisco. “I gave his brother my oath that nothing would happen—”

  A blast of purple energy struck Saimon in the chest, throwing him backward.

  “In the name of the fallen! In the name of Alibeen! We take back what is rightfully ours,” shouted Mithran, staff held aloft. “Kill everyone who stands in our way!”