Wretch paced down a lonely cobblestone road.

  By his side lay ramshackle homes, cobbled together by wood and stone. Above them rose the foreman’s industry, a giant of rusted iron, belching out smoke around the clock through jutting chimneys. Despite their height, the neighborhood was blanketed in a dizzying fog that was metallic on the tongue.

  Beyond the iron colossus loomed the white stone of the Inner wall, then the jutting Spires of the upper city, and finally, above them all, Saint Summit. The city's tallest spire peered down from above the clouds like a teacher over misbehaving pupils.

  Foreman Edgar had shared the history of the industry at Wretch’s request. The machinery of this factory was of a bygone age. The understanding of their full function was lost to time. Workers toiled ceaselessly to keep the ancient machinery from falling apart, because they knew not how to rebuild it.

  I wonder what the city looked like back then. Wretch thought. Maybe you could even go outside the Outer Walls.

  He turned his head away from the jumble of Spires and walkways. In the opposite direction, past miles of slums, smog and church-towers, stood the Outer Wall. Encircling the entire city in a white ring of stone, tall enough to dwarf even the factories. That was their protection, their barrier from the outside world. You could only leave by train towards the weak strongholds beyond, and even that was rare.

  He sighed. To head upwards and climb to Fireling and beyond, he would have to do well tonight.

  The bells chimed far above, interrupting his pondering. He had walked up and down the street for the better part of two hours. Edmund, he knew, was hidden in an abandoned house to his left, while Astrid and Elenya waited in an alleyway to his right.

  When they arrived, the streets had at least shown signs of life. The odd worker trudging home in their blue overalls, a pack of kids playing with a broken cart wheel. Now, he was the only silhouette moving through the night. Even though he knew the Richters were watching him, he couldn’t quite shake the feeling of isolation.

  “It’s going to be fine,” he muttered to himself. “My flame’s half full. I can heal even a pierced gut right about now.”

  He kept walking. The gas-lamps were fewer and farther between than in the Spires, leaving a choking darkness to fill the space between them.

  Metal scraped against metal to his left. He stopped, heart skipping a beat.

  He turned towards the noise, an alleyway between two leaning buildings, filled only with shadows and swirling smog.

  He squinted, unsure if the mist was moving from his imagination or otherwise.

  “Might’ve been a cat,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders.

  Taking the role of bait had been an easy choice, he was ready to sacrifice much more than that to grow. Even now alone in the cold, empty slums he didn’t carry any regret.

  He walked towards the next lamppost, his two odd boots thumping against the cobblestone. At least this one didn’t flicker on and off.

  A recognizable scent brushed against his new, heightened senses. He froze, a shiver down his spine.

  Herbs and mold. The scent from the chimney.

  A bead of cold sweat formed on his forehead. He turned slowly, resisting the urge to run and walked on stiff legs towards the Richters hideout.

  For the love of the Saint, don't be asleep!

  The scent grew stronger, and he quickened his pace, throwing a glance behind him.

  Under the light of a flickering gas-lamp, something moved.

  His breath caught in his throat.

  A tangle of human limbs, crawling along the street like a nightmarish insect. As large as a horse, maybe larger. The half-functioning light blinked. And it was gone.

  “What the…” he whispered with wide eyes.

  He shuffled backwards, turning around and breaking into a sprint. His boots drummed against the road and heartbeats thumped in his ears. He skidded to a stop between the two hideouts.

  He swiveled around, drawing the borrowed knife and flexing his clawed hand.

  “Hello?” he called out with a high pitch. “Edmund? Elenya?”

  Nothing. Just the wind and noise of his own breath.

  The scent grew thicker. He inhaled through his nose, trying to find its source. His new sharp senses found its trail.

  To the left!

  He snapped his head to the side, just beyond the light of the lamps, a soundless shape crawled down from a roof. The movement of the twisting limbs was smooth, like a giant centipede or a spider, if either had been made entirely out of human arms. Wretch tried to look away but found himself unable.

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  “You didn’t leave right… please?” He said under his breath.

  It froze, just for a moment. A twitching horror of outstretched human limbs. Its human hands pressed against the cobblestone and the muscles strained.

  It lunged for him. Crawling forwards at terrifying speed. Wretch staggered backwards and raised the dagger. It darted into the light and leapt towards him. His entire vision became filled with twisting, grasping hands.

  Someone crashed into the side of the creature. Then, a violent shockwave slammed against it.

  The horror jerked off course, flailing mid-air. Wretch flinched as a dozen grasping hands whipped past his nose and ringing ears.

  Edmund stood to the side, sword drawn and a raised metal shield, his hat and suit were still impeccable. His eyes glowed with a fading fire, but he didn't even seem to flinch at the sight of the horror.

  “No time to waste, kid!” He let out, dashing forward.

  The creature struck the stone road with a hard thud, bounced and rolled. From its center, dozens, or maybe hundreds of human arms extended out, scraping against the ground to regain its balance.

  Finding its grip under a lamp, it rose. No head, eyes or body. It was simply a mass of arms, like a possessed mop. Behind it, Wretch saw two human eyes lit up with fire and he snapped out of his shocked state.

  Shit. Move. Now.

  Edmund advanced straight forward as Wretch dashed towards its flank.

  The creature skittered back, fluid and quiet, unaware of what charged towards it from behind.

  Elenya emerged from the shadow in a blur of steel, eyes lit and the halberd whistling through the air. Edmund closed in from the front, and Wretch crouched by the gutter with his knife in hand.

  “Break its arms,” Edmund said into the night.

  Elenya struck first, halberd swinging in a deadly arc.

  The creature reacted just in time, twisting to the side with surprising agility. Her halberd caught three limbs, severing the wrists like paper before continuing downwards.

  Metal screeched as her weapon struck stone. The creature shot towards the gap in their formation, but thorny vines burst from the cobblestone. Growing into a wall of bramble in seconds.

  It was surrounded.

  The creature swerved to the side, changing its course, straight towards Edmund. He raised his shield as a wave of grasping hands reached for his skin.

  A split second before collision, another shockwave exploded from his shield, ripping chunks of rock free in a cone before him and sending the creature hurling through the air.

  It smashed into the pole of a gas lamp with a groan of bending metal. The light flickered as the creature fell to the ground in a heap.

  Wretch stepped forward with a trembling claw and raised knife. Compared to the proper hunters, he wasn’t much more than a kid with a knife.

  Damn it, do something.

  The creature twitched with irritation, a myriad of hands pushing itself up from the ground, slick with its own blood. It convulsed, as if fighting a violent urge.

  Then it screamed. High pitched, undoubtedly human despite its physique, like the yell of an angered child. The arms rose like the heads of a snake and a clear killing intent washed over him, and with it, a name.

  Milley, Tireless Gatherer

  Edmund banged his sword against his shield.

  Wretch breathed out and dashed forward from the side, knife in one hand and his sharp claw flexed. Behind it, Elenya spun into an overhead strike with her hulking weapon.

  The creature scrambled up the crooked lamp post with its many hands. Elenya’s halberd whizzed by its side, missing by a hair. A dozen hands shot out and gripped her shoulder and neck, tearing the fabric of her tunic.

  Edmund angled into a piercing strike with his sword. The creature ripped something free from Elenya’s face as more hands clutched towards her. She released the halberd.

  In a fluid motion, she flicked her wrists, two long daggers slid from her sleeves. With a snarl, she drove them upward into the mass of limbs. A dull thud followed and blood painted the ground.

  From the side, Wretch was crashing through the air, shooting towards the entangled beast and hunter. He reached for a part of his mind, the same place he’d been when fighting the Blessed ratling. A place of desperation and gnawing hunger.

  I have to kill it. I have to.

  The creature let out a child-like shriek, blood seeping along the pale limbs. Wretch slammed into its side with a thud, the dagger held in a backward grip, ripping through muscle and skin.

  The mass of limbs grabbed at his figure as he cut with his dagger and tore with his clawed hand, assaulting without a sliver of finesse.

  Edmund charged from the front with his shield raised.

  He slammed it towards the twitching limbs, the blow from the shield barely pushed the creature. But then his eyes lit, and a wave of force exploded from his shield.

  The impact shook the air like a bursting pressure valve. The creature was hurled away from the bent lamppost, crashing to the ground with Elenya and Wretch tumbling with it.

  Wretch rolled to his feet, covered in blood and out of breath, but only hurt by a few cuts and scratches. The creature shuddered. Blood streamed down broken limbs as it struggled upright on trembling hands.

  Elenya stood up a few paces away. Red was overtaking the white of her shirt. A chunk of her throat was missing, leaving a pulsing flesh wound. She wore a wicked, toothy smile on the left of her face. He realized why. Her cheek had been ripped open.

  His stomach clenched at the sight.

  Astrid stepped out of the darkness behind Elenya with fiery eyes. She removed a leather glove and laid a gentle hand on Elenya’s mangled neck. The edges of the wound rippled and grew towards each other, mending themselves into the look of fresh scars.

  The struggling creature let out a soft groan, disturbingly human.

  The hunters and Wretch closed in, like the stray dogs of the slums circling prey. It screamed again, loud enough to make Wretch’s eardrums ring.

  It dashed towards him, and his heart skipped a beat.

  Take it head on, prove that you can.

  At the last moment, it launched itself into the air, soaring over a strike from his knife. It crashed into a wall behind him, cracking stone and breaking glass as it climbed upwards along the fa?ade.

  Damn…

  “After it!” Edmund shouted.