“Trog’s hungry again – do we have any mushrooms left?” Asked Jynxx, who looked down at the bundle of bone and skin that was their new companion. Trog wasn’t yet covered in pock marks, and his fuzzy baby hair was cute on his large head. Jynxx smiled as Trog gnawed on his finger.

  Noxx skipped up and crammed a fistful of mushrooms into Trog’s mouth, “Here, I got some more.”

  Talon sighed, “Stop giving that thing all our food.”

  Noxx asked, “Did you figure out where we’re going?”

  “No.” Snapped Talon.

  In truth, Talon knew – he just didn’t want to discuss it. Something called to him, a connection he thought long dead, burned in his chest.

  Talon shook his head – there had to be some kind of mistake. Why now, after all this time? Was it his new title?

  The [Ronin] sighed. He was weak, a fraction of his former levels. He traveled with children, stronger than him, and should they throw a tantrum, they might blast him from existence.

  Talon led them deeper into the dungeon – eerie silence prevailed – as they wound through empty passages. The fighting long since stopped, the party feared what might lie around every turn.

  Pryuuk stuck to Talon, like a lost cub, which irritated the [Ronin] to no end, who wanted nothing more than to slap the birdkin away.

  All he could think of was the skill that had been used on that monster whelp. He knew it had affected his mind; he could distinctly remember wanting to kill the thing, as he would with any threat, young or old – after all, young soft monsters grew into old vicious ones.

  All that is to say, he didn’t trust Pryuuk – but most of all, Talon couldn’t stop picturing Churi in his mind. He didn’t want to think of her, and yet he was surrounded by the cranekin’s family.

  She’d saved him, and it had been heroic, knowingly sacrificing herself to save him – and now, Talon was…he didn’t know.

  He touched the side of his face, not a magical guise, but his actual face – a human one, he was human. He chuckled to himself, remembering the first time he’d assumed a bipedal form – one taken from a painting Eldrin had in his study.

  When Talon had asked Eldrin about the photo, his master had replied, ‘Nobody – a builder, his name long forgotten.’

  Talon had never asked again, but he wished he had. And now, would he get that chance? Could he really still be alive – father, are you out there? Why had Eldrin left…what was he supposed to do with himself?

  The tugging in his chest said he was. Talon looked at the back of his hand, slowly curling it around, as fingers elongated and strengthening – chorded muscle and sinew wrapping each digit, and claws like razor sharp adamantite lengthened from his nails – their edge so sharp, one might cut themselves just looking too closely.

  The control he had over his skill wasn’t standard; he didn't need to utter a phrase, simply thinking about it, his claws…Talon let his hand fall to his side, the mutation reversing, his eyes focusing ahead.

  Pryuuk spoke, reminding Talon of his presence, “Where are we headed – you walk with a purpose.”

  “Worry about the children – [Teacher], I’ll handle the rest.” Spat Talon.

  Pryuuk did not react to the venom in Talon’s voice – replying in a calm, matter-of-fact tone, “Thank you for rescuing us, I’m sorry… I couldn’t help.”

  Talon noticed the slight hitch in Pryuuks' voice, “It was Churi, we all owe our escape to her.

  Talon’s voice trailed off; he wasn’t sure what to say. Her death had rendered the birdkin nearly catatonic. The truth would have to suffice. “She looked me in the eye, just before her death – I watched as she sacrificed herself – never flinching, even…I’ll never forget her courage.”

  Pryuuk was silent for a moment – it lingered, and Talon worried he’d gone too far. “I don’t remember anything – all I feel is a great shame…I can’t even remember the last moments of her life – I couldn’t help, I–”

  Talon cut him off, “Life and death situations, bravery, sacrifice – it’s not so cut and dry, it is not your fault, Pryuuk – not your fault.”

  “Why?” The question, only one word, caught Talon off guard. “Why what?” was all he could think to say.

  “Why did you come after my school…why?” Though the question was direct, Talon couldn’t help but wonder if the question wasn’t really, ‘why did Chury have to die?’

  Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  “The order came from on high – I had no choice.

  The words felt empty – hollow, he owed Pryuuk, and Churi more. “You were a threat to the Keepers' dominance. Guild power stems from recruits. Those with more recruits have more levels, in simple terms. Levels are power – you were taking power from the Keepers, from all guilds.”

  “Because I wanted to give young people knowledge? That’s – ridiculous, that’s…” Pryuuk shook their beak, a single tear bead down their feathers.

  “The Keepers understand knowledge, the first thing a newly ranked up [Apprentice Keeper] learns, ‘knowledge is power.’ They are taught as [Keepers] to protect it, to preserve it. There are things peasants shouldn’t know, things too dangerous.”

  “Then they are just as the Monarchy – hoarding levels and classes, and for what? Do the Keepers see themselves as the divine? Is there some new god, are they gods – to play with lives as they do – why?” Pryuuk’s wings pressed tight to his back as he clenched his fists with rage.

  Silence hung between them, and Talon did not answer, for he had none. Talon had been a good soldier, following orders – he believed he was pushing Eldrin’s legacy, doing what needed to be done, and now…

  The twins argued about whose turn it was to hold Trog, their sounds washing over the silence. Shadows danced in the torchlight, their flickering flames a constant reminder – they were not alone down here.

  Jynxx interrupted his argument with Noxx, surprising Talon, “What attacked us – destroyed our home? Was that dangerous knowledge, too?”

  Talon nodded, “Yes, it was. That never should have happened…”

  Noxx patted baby Trog on the back as he rested on the young orc's shoulder. “What should never have happened, you owe us an explanation.”

  Talon hated the young for this exact reason. “I owe you nothing – shut your mouth.”

  Jynxx snorted, “Equi brother, listen to his voice – he knows he’s wrong – go on, spit it out, you murdering, grunt-napping son of–”

  Talon spun on his heel, a snarl on his lips, his hands drawing up and fingers curling in. Pryuuk slapped him in the back of the head, “Answer the question.”

  Talon thought about pulling Churi’s head from storage and beating the [Teacher] with it. His rage faded at that thought, so instead he turned and kept walking.

  “Well, out with it, you–” A glare from Pryuuk silenced Jynxx.

  “The creature is a vatagand – long extinct, save for one. They consume mana and grow without end – a world eater. There was an artifact in the Spires' vaults – long dormant – a leash, a controller for the worm.

  Talon paused, holding the group up, as he focused his attention and listened. Hearing nothing, he continued.

  “The Keepers must have used it – but, attacking Murkspire? I don’t know what has happened…”

  Talon’s voice trailed off. Something was coming, he was sure—a rhythmic slurping, almost liquid.

  The air around Talon suddenly charged with power. He looked back to see Jynxx and Noxx, shoulder to shoulder, their wild hair biting the air like snakes.

  Talon’s eyes narrowed, “Wait here, children.” He gave Pryuuk a look before he turned and stalked into the shadows.

  “Well, at least we know where to find our friends.” Ren pointed to the nearest colossus, moving irradically in the distance.

  So saying, Ren kicked off, making a straight shot at his target. “What’s our technique here? Do you have any – moves or powers?

  Ren hoped they weren’t too late, and wondered why he hadn’t heard anything back from Pat yet. He pumped his arms, pushing himself as hard as he could.

  “Meen-Tra? What do you think? What should we–”

  Ren looked over his shoulder, but there was no Meen-Tra – he looked over the other, and still nothing. He flipped around, running backwards – and there was Meen-Tra, unmoving, standing with her arms crossed.

  Ren chuckled to himself and reversed directions.

  As he approached, Meen-Tra was tapping her foot, a scowl on her face, “Ren, bog take me – pay attention, our friends are in trouble!”

  Ren scratched the back of his neck before reaching out to touch her mark with his core, pushing his abilities onto her aura. As her feet lifted off the ground and notes emanated from her ankles, Ren did a double-take, as her toenail polish seemed to glow like gems. He turned, looking to where he thought his party was, “Well, shall we–”

  Meen-Tra was already on the move, leaving a trail of dust and notes in her wake.

  Draven and Hecate worked in tandem, weaving back and forth in an effort to collide their shamblers. Mitzy had argued their plan had a flaw, mainly that the two monsters would just merge.

  Hecate and Draven had vetoed her concerns for one reason – they didn’t have any other ideas.

  Mitzy was currently sitting on Draven’s shoulder, facing behind, “Drave, I think I’m gonna have to climb this thing.”

  Draven shook his head, “No, we discussed this – the vines will shred you before you get anywhere.”

  As if to accent his point, a single whip-like vine lashed out, headed straight for Draven’s back – growing in speed and length like a rocket.

  Mitzy leaped from her perch – drawing Rivetlock in one smooth motion – as her light knife cracked to life. She fired a hook into Dusty’s saddle as she slashed through the air, splitting the vine like a hair, before she thumbed her retraction switch. When combined with a short burst from her boots, she landed on Dusty’s rear, a smile on her face.

  It quickly faded, as a building-sized foot came crashing into the ground far too close for comfort – sending a shockwave through the ground.

  Dusty, the reliable, rode the wave on short, powerful strides – his tail swishing side to side, in a balancing act, as his footpads propelled them on.

  “Watch yee!” Hecate screamed.

  Draven looked over to see Hecate making a beeline for their position. The duster-clad orc leaned into Dusty, guiding the beast, as they swapped positions with Hecate.

  Spike let out a hiss of approval as they galloped past, while Hecate loosed an axe as he growled, “Steady!”

  A massive fist smashed the ground between the orcs, showering the area with debris.

  Mog and Nosh headed for the treeline, taking Camo and the prisoners with them.

  DG-Pat followed overhead, “Ren, we’re headed in your Direction.”