“You have illegally entered the private property of Lord Garret of Tranas. Guards have been notified and are on their way. Leave immediately.”

  The regal figure suddenly appearing without warning strikes the collective consciousness of the street like a hammer. For a moment, their minds all ring in synchronicity, thrashing with conflicting, bellicose interpretations of the burgeoning reality before them. The events unfolding urgently demand some sort of coherent understanding for the town to continue its function. Finally, someone acts.

  “He’s not dead?”

  Like a hidden dagger puncturing the tension, everyone begins reacting, bleeding their concerted energy all at once. Screams of terror erupt. The big ones violently scatter, pushing and tripping over each other to frantically get away. As the previously rhythmic, semi organized street scene completely dissolves into chaos, only two stationary figures remain here with me as I lie prone on the ground.

  “What’s happening, Padras? Did you do this?”

  “No! I don’t know where it came from. Is that who he’s working with? Is he back for revenge?” the Padras voice despondently responds, gawking in awe and fear while his attention turns completely towards the talking phantom.

  This is it. My opening. Shooting straight away from the pair, I head towards the nearest rat hole. Can’t make it to a porter since it’s too far, and besides, they took all my coins. Can dig more out of the pockets, but need somewhere safe to unpack for that. The sewers are the only place that comes to mind. Worst case scenario, I can escape to the wilderness through the exit down there.

  Everything flies past me in a blur. I don’t even check to see if they noticed me slipping away. Must focus only on the goal. Soon these awful big ones will all be gone, and then I’ll get back to safely practicing and preparing for their doom. My revenge. No, no. I need to stop the deterioration first. No! I should hurt them all right now!

  Discordant thoughts spinning and wrestling inside my addled head, the disorienting distraction causes me to stumble and fall. The mind mud bubbles and toils, furious and raging at ever having shared any amount of control with something else. Something lower! Against my best interests, I stand up, spin around, and draw a dagger.

  Smiling broadly and allowing a small laugh to slip, intimate knowledge of their sealed fate sails dreamily across my vision like a waking dream. They’re done. If not me, then another. Or another. Or another. Their fruitless struggle to climb is so adorable. So weak! Fool, you think me the naive pup when you see and know so little? Blind. Blind! They can’t even see their shackles and cage. You all dance and sing for our amusement each and every day, like the big pet birds that you are. Trapped. Trapped! You’re the ones who’re trapped!

  “Padras, get a hold of yourself,” the Kurt voice loudly declares over the noise, grabbing the other by the shoulder. “You let him get away, we need to pursue. This is team one’s responsibility now.”

  Finally gathering themselves together, the big ones turn and confidently head in my direction. Squatting like a tense spring, I’m ready to shoot off like a missile right at their throats. I’ll tear them to pieces. They’re not wearing any protective metals, so it’ll be easy. They’ll get what they all deserve. How dare they take a breath. How dare they live!

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Amidst the wretched madness, the deep calls out. Freedom. Freedom? This isn’t freedom, it’s a death sentence. Do I need to live? I want to live. If it all ends here, then how will I achieve what I want? How will I get home? Yes, home. That’s what I really want. I must go home. I must be free to go home!

  Looking down at the dagger in my hand and then at the pair of approaching predators, I realize the utter stupidity of my predicament. I can’t win against these fools. They’ll easily crush me. I have to go. I have to move. Move my legs. Go. Go!

  Finally taking back a conscious command, my legs stiffly turn me away to stumble towards the nearest alley. However, the duo splits and cuts off my escape. Thoughtlessly, I change goals and sprint along the road instead, weaving amongst the scattered mess of big ones. Hiding within the confusion buys me time, but it won’t be enough. The partner’s eyes are far too sharp.

  “Refuge! Refuge!” a tall figure hanging out an open door loudly calls into the crowd, energetically waving his hands for attention. “Refuge for all!”

  Not questioning my fortuity and eagerly following the crowd into the safe haven, I squeeze tightly into the rabble crammed and cowering inside.

  “Rotten luck, he’s in the guild,” I hear the Kurt voice angrily curse through the noise. “I’ll tail him, you confirm jurisdiction."

  They’re coming. I have to keep moving, but it’s so dense in here that it’s difficult to move. Like a fish, I wiggle through until free behind one of the counters.

  “Oh, sir. You’re not supposed to be back here,” a friendly voice accuses.

  Ignoring him, I spy the stairs leading up and dart towards them. It’ll be easier to maneuver back here, and the helpful staff never seems to take any direct action beyond polite words. They’ll issue warnings, but never actually stop me. However, my pursuers oddly fear them. The silly words will stick to them. They’ll be dramatically slowed.

  Scrambling up to the top floor, I hug the railing while sprinting along the raised walkway. It’s significantly less crowded up here in the staff only area. Running is easy, but I need more. I need a place to hide. To escape.

  “Stop,” an eerie voice amongst the staff declares, steadying an empty, distant gaze at me. “Further disruption risks integrity. Return to the pits.”

  Not this again! Ignoring it, I scamper past and through an ornate door at the end of the walkway. It’s better than nothing, if only to remove line of sight.

  “Return to the pits,” another voice immediately oozes out once inside.

  “Peet gud. Yas,” I wheeze back, hoping to placate the enigmatic characters.

  Outside the door, I vaguely hear faint voices in hurried conversation. Is he already upon me?

  “I’m sorry, sir. You can’t be up here. Also, this is the regional head’s office! Stand back!”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t enter until my partner gets guild confirmation. However, we’ve pursued a dangerous criminal here. It’s our responsibility to at least keep them contained for everyone’s safety,” the Kurt voice muffles authoritatively from the other side of the door.

  Regional head? Is that important? Turning to the sole figure occupying the room, I inspect them carefully. He doesn’t seem very special. Especially with those incredibly vacant, cloudy eyes boring a hole through me.

  “Return to the pits,” it monotonously repeats again.

  Fool, I’d love to, but how?