I soared through the air, weightless, until the ground rose up to meet me. I landed, paws steady, heart pounding. Shaking myself off, I spun around. The rickshaw lay overturned, wheels still spinning. A small hand peeked out from beneath the vehicle.

Sam.

But a wet, cracking sound stopped me in my tracks. A growl, thick with hunger. A strangled cry. I turned, breath caught in my throat.

The rickshaw driver lay on his back, feebly raising his fists and landing weak punches. On top of him was something barely human, its teeth sinking deep into the old man’s face. 

The crowd gathered but did not act, only watched in horrified silence. Some looked ready to rush forward, but fear anchored them in place. Help him, or save themselves? The choice paralyzed them.

Then, the attacker rose. The rickshaw driver dangled limply from his grip before dropping to the ground like discarded meat. A hushed gasp swept through the crowd. One step back. Then another. I retreated too, fur bristling, every instinct screaming danger.

The attacker lifted his head, blood streaking his face, eyes scanning the shrinking circle of onlookers. And then, he opened his mouth, stretching impossibly wide, and from the darkness within, tentacles unfurled, writhing and slick, licking the air. 

The crowd staggered back, then scattered like startled birds. 

Louis pulled himself from the overturned rickshaw, then hoisted Sam to his feet. He shielded him from the bloodied scene just feet away. The boy was visibly shaken but unharmed.  

“We need to go, Sam,” said Louis, hastily. 

Sam twisted, his small voice rising above the panic. “Where’s Page? Page!”  

Louis didn’t answer. He tightened his hold, dragging the boy with him. “Now, Sam. Move!” And in an instant, they were swallowed by the panicking crowd. 

I tried to run after them, but the attacker stepped in my way. I hissed low, claws raised, daring it to come closer.  

He reached for me, fingers grasping, but I struck first, my claws slashing across his hands. Blood welled from the fresh gashes. He let out a furious roar, his white eyes burning with rage. I dodged, slipping between his legs before scrambling up his back, my claws sinking deep. He howled, his body jerking and shaking in a desperate attempt to dislodge me. His hands clawed for me, but I clung tight.

With one last swipe at the back of his neck, I leapt off, hitting the ground in a sprint. The Lionfish Inn was just ahead. The doors were shut, so I perched on the steps, waiting. When a guest finally pushed through the entrance, I slipped in, only for a rough hand to clamp down on me and yanked me back.

“No animals inside!” the innkeeper barked, her hands like iron shackles around me.

She flung me outside as if I were no more than a piece of discarded trash. I tumbled onto the grimy pavement as the door slammed shut behind me.

That’s fine. Locked doors meant nothing to me. If the front was closed to me, I’d find another way in.

I padded into the back alley, where the stench of rotting food thickened the air. A rusted trash can lay on its side. A swarm of rats picked through the mess, their tiny claws scratching against metal as they feasted on whatever was still edible.

It wasn’t the rats that caught my attention, but the woman. She stood facing the brick wall, mumbling to herself and banging her forehead against the wall with such a force that there was a crunch after each strike.

I stiffened. The sight was disturbingly familiar. I had seen it once before, back at the apothecary. Wynn popped into my mind. He'd been lost in his own mind, hurling himself against the walls of his cramped prison, as if trying to escape his own skin.

“Quick, grab what you can and let’s get out of here,” one of the rats ordered, stuffing scraps into a small backpack. The others abandoned their feast and hurried to do the same, shoving bits of food into makeshift bags. Oddly enough, not one of them seemed the least bit concerned by my presence.

What brings you here?” one of the rats finally asked, his whiskers twitching as he eyed me.  

“I need to get inside the inn,” I said. “The innkeeper kicked me out. She said no animals were allowed.”  

The rat scoffed. “And you want a way in?”  

“Yes. My humans are in there—”  

“You have humans?” he wrinkled his nose. “Why?”  

“They're my shipmates.”  

The rat scoffed. “That won’t matter soon. Ever since the creatures from below surfaced, the humans have been… wrong. More violent. Worse than usual.” It gestured toward the woman still slamming her skull into the bricks. “And you want to trap yourself in an inn with them?”  

“Less talking, more taking!” another rat snapped. “The Wise Keepers warned us—move fast, or we’ll be locked out.”  

The first rat gave a grim nod. “We’re all going underground. It’s not safe out here. It never was, but now?” he shuddered. “It’s worse.”

“Enough! We’re leaving!” the second rat barked. He bit down on his bag and turned toward the alley’s exit.  

Then, there was a pause. No more wet, sickening cracks of bone against stone.  

I looked up.  

The woman had stopped. Her face was a mask of gory red, her forehead split, dented. Still she smiled.

A twisted, gleeful grin.  

The rats didn’t move. Their fur bristled, tails stiff. A chill ran through me. Something was about to go very wrong.

She moved fast. Her hand lashed out, seizing one of the rats. The creature screamed, dropping his bag, his tiny claws scrambling against her fingers, teeth sinking deep. But she didn’t flinch.  

She didn’t even seem to feel it.  

None of us moved.  

Her mouth split open. Not just wide—unnaturally wide.

Something was writhing inside. Tentacles. They curled and twisted, slick with saliva, reaching, wrapping around the rat’s body.  

First, his head disappeared past her lips.  

Then came the crunch.  

A sickening pop, the slow, wet tear of flesh and brittle snap of tiny bones. The rat’s final scream was swallowed whole. Then, the alley fell into an awful, suffocating stillness.

"Run!" The first rat cried, and in a blink, the others scattered, vanishing into the shadows as the woman lunged, snatching another in her grasp.

In that instant, I bolted. I had no idea where I was going, only that I had to move. I tore through the streets, weaving between startled pedestrians, then leapt into a market, springing from basket to basket. Vendors shouted. First in anger, then in terror.

I didn’t dare look back. No need to turn around to know why.

She was still coming.

Then, a bark rang out followed by a guttural growl. It recognized that sound. And it was only then did I dare to stop and turn around.

There was Lee! His teeth were locked onto the hem of my pursuer’s dress, his paws braced against the dirt as he yanked her backward with all his might. She staggered, fighting to keep her balance until, out of nowhere, a club struck her skull with a sickening crack. The force sent her toppling, as if her strings had been cut, her body hitting the ground in a heap. 

Her entire body convulsed, her jaw stretching wide and cracking as the blob tore free. Tentacles writhed, blindly searching for a new host. But it didn’t get far—a wooden stick speared straight through its mass with a sickening, wet squelch. The tentacles flailed wildly before their movements withered and stilled.

The Blowfish Man stood over her, his club resting on his shoulder, his face calm, as if he had done this a hundred times before.  

Lee released the hem of the dress and bounded over the fallen body, dashing to my side. He bumped his head against mine, his tail whipped wildly behind him in a blur of excitement.

“Page! It’s me, Lee!” he yipped, bouncing on his paws, spinning in giddy circles.

“Yes, yes, I know,” I said, exhaling in relief. “But how are you even here? The birds told me you were in the Shelter, about to be executed.”

“Oh, they weren’t wrong. I was in there. The Warden nearly sent me to the skies. But I found a way out. You know, there’s always a way.” 

He flicked his tail, then gestured toward the Blowfish Man with his snout. 

“I found my way up the Old Rig ‘cause I figured a good kick would set me straight,” he said. “So, I went to this old guy’s stall. He used to hate my guts ‘cause I’d take some of his pufferfish—you know, to get that kick I needed.”

“I remember. You told me that the dolphins showed you how to get that kick.”

Lee nodded. “That’s right. But I was too weak to even snatch a fish and ended up nearly drowning in the tank. I guess seeing me half-dead changed his mind. He plucked me out of the water, cleaned me up, and, well… here I am. I owe him one.” 

With a sharp whistle, the Blowfish Man summoned Lee to his side. The dog obeyed without hesitation, his paws kicking up dust as he bounded over. His ears perked and tail wagged. He glanced back at me and called, “Come on, Page!”