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This place is wrong.

No one had lived here for over a century but he could still faintly hear people, not his ancestors who built and died in these halls but the people above ground, the ones who owned him, Elves.

While not predisposed to superstition Seth couldn't help but feel a brief sense of dread upon entering this place, despite spending much of his free time digging through the old town he could never truly feel at peace within its confines.

Not to say he found peace outside of it.

The only other sounds that could be heard down in the warrens came from the wind blowing through the tunnels, his lantern, and his bare paws stepping through the water. He was an Acturan, one of only a few thousand living in Unseelie territory, and furthermore one of the only live Acturan living in the city above. They were all slaves as well

It took all of Seth's willpower to keep moving through the subterranean town. Years of conditioning told him to head back and accept his fate, that the relative painlessness of being culled outweighed whatever death he would suffer if caught trying to escape, that this plan of his was certain to fail, and that all he was doing was deceiving himsel-

His heart skipped a few beats as he was plunged into darkness, "I-It just ran out of air.. it just ran out.. of.. air.." he whimpered, setting down his lantern and rummaging through his rucksack for his spare air tank, shoveling through the collection of archaic manuscripts he had taken with him. He only had one extra and wasn't even sure that he filled it properly.

Upon finding it he shakily began to replace it; flinching at the sudden hiss of compressed air as the the pressure in the old tank equalized, fears of starving alone in the dark began creeping into his mind as he fumbled with the screws. Seth knew they were irrational: he could probably navigate by touch, and the water he was kneeling in was drinkable. Murky, but drinkable.

...And if the worst were to come there was always another option.

He began to calm down as it flickered back to life, reilluminating his surroundings. If he remembered correctly the tunnel outlet leading outside the city was just less than a mile north-east from where he was now, his one chance at freedom on the other side.

With this in mind Seth stood up from the shallow water and continued through darkness.

...

A few passages later he could finally see a light in the distance. _"Dim light" _he thought. _"It must be getting dark already" _

He quickened his pace, practically running towards the exit, grinning like an idiot as his fear began to fade, he was dozens of miles from Rastic territory and hundreds more from home but he still felt a glimmer of hop-

The grate was fixed.

As soon as it appeared the grin on his face died, all he could do was stare out at the forest, at the pines swaying in the wind, at the lush moss enveloping the underbrush, and at the quaint stream that the drain fed into, all wrapped in an almost dreamlike fog. He could smell the fresh pine mixed with the earthier scent of rain and ozone. He could hear birds calling in the distance... It seemed almost picturesque to Seth.

Tears began to flow down his face before he even took it in fully. Life had decided to torture him one last time before the end, to raise his hopes just to hurt them at the last moment. He slumped against the rough wall of the tunnel, pulling up his legs and resting his head between his knees as he wept to himself asking why the world hated him, why every attempt at changing things just made everything worse.

He sat there in stunned silence until his lantern finally sputtered and ran out of air again, as he was left in darkness another train of thought appeared in Seth's mind. That there had never been a chance at escape, that he really was stupid enough to believe he could make it.

He grit his fangs, the fear he had felt became misery and now anger. His clinched fists drove his claws hard enough into his palms to draw blood but he couldn't care less. _"This world doesn't hate me, you can't feel hate without love, and I know there's none in this place" __Seth thought "But I hate it so, so much" _

In a fit of rage Seth threw his fist towards the grate, pain shot through his knuckles as they collided the wrought iron but he had suffered worse. He threw his fist at it again, and again, and again... Each time letting out a howl of combined hopelessness and rage until finally sitting back down, his throat hoarse and his left hand a bloodied mess.

He sat there for quite some time. The catharsis and adrenaline beginning to wear out and the pain coming back with a vengeance. Slowly, he spread his wounded fingers and watched the dripping blood mix with his tears, it reminded him of something, although he couldn't say whether it was a distant memory or some sort of fatigue induced delirium it somehow reminded him of something...

Another option.

_ Master had said "There is a dark mirror to every aspect of this world. Thaumaturgy, the Lefthand Path, Witchcraft, all of these solutions draw from the same mirror in different ways"_

Seth feared its consequences.

But he feared the alternative far more.

With a shaky motion and a deep breath he sliced deeper into his left palm, pressing it flat against the side of the tunnel and smearing his blood across the wall, creating an array of jagged lines radiating from his handprint towards and upon the metal grate. With a brief prayer to whatever god was listening he closed his eyes and began to concentrate on his thoughts, he imagined the grate beside him shattering apart. No, corroding away- No, he was too focused on how it broke, not the end result.

He pictured the tunnel as he saw it earlier, a gleam of hope following years of suffering, the beautiful world beyond his cage, a world without doors, or walls, or even floors. A hazy world of ecstasy, a perfectly broken world he could call home, a life withou-

A metallic shriek broke his focus.

With a yelp he stumbled backwards, his left hand was in a fresh wave of pain, three burn marks lining his forearm parallel to the major nerves. The smell of singed fur, blood, and ozone making him nauseous as he steadied himself. With held breath he slowly opened his eyes and looked out the tunnel, wondering for a moment where the grate had gone before noticing the metallic dust caking his filthy robe and fur. He also noticed several droplets of bright, molten metal lining the wall opposite the Sigil he made.

Seth shuddered at the thought of what would have happened to him had he stood a few feet further from his mark. His thoughts were interrupted by distant shouting. Someone, no, several people must have heard that noise. Someone would certainly catch him if he didn't act quickly, he was sure a second escape attempt alone would result in a painful death, but a slave being found a Thaumaturge would be even worse.

With that in mind he dropped down into the stream below. For a moment he was swallowed by darkness once more as he had underestimated the waters depth, scrambling for air he meekly dog-paddled to the shore opposite the tunnel. Shivering as he half crawled-half climbed up the bank of the stream towards the forest, Seth heard a dog barking nearby, "Too close to belong to Kunzes" Seth thought, "I should have at least half an hour before the constable send out a patrol, but I've already left too many clues" _ Thinking back to the maps he had read the nearest "Acturan-tolerant" (I.e. a place that wouldn't immediately kill or capture him) province was Rastis, with the fastest route being along the riverside. _"But that's the most obvious path for a fugitive, I could live in the forest?... No, there's no way I could hide from their wolfhounds."

"I'll cut though the woods north-west and head along the backroads towards the crossing, it'll take a few more days at least but its still my best option"

...

A few hours later Seth found his way onto the backroad, he decided to briefly stop and check his wounds. At this point he was covered in grime, tired, in pain, and cold: the rain meant his clothes never fully dried after falling into the stream. Sitting beneath one of the thicker pines he began to shuffle through his rucksack. Despite having planned his escape a few days in advance he didn't have much time to pack, as his master's death had come as a surprise.

Seth knew Toren would die soon, the bastard's luck had run out after his last series of experiments and he contracted Thaumaturgical Sickness, as if his age wasn't bad enough he rejected traditional medicine in favor of further Thaumaturgical procedures, practically treating his deathbed as a workstation even as his doctor pleaded with him to relax his projects for the time being. He had never bothered to write a will and Seth didn't think he had any heirs, much less colleagues.

After a few moments Seth found what he was looking for. Although damp his other robe would provide another, somewhat drier layer of insulation. After changing clothes he began to clean his wounded hand to the best of his abilities, he was sure he broke at least one of his fingers and was unsure whether or not he should try and "fix" it. Eventually deciding it was less important than taking care of the smaller scrapes and tears he had accumulated all over his body.

After dressing his wounds Seth started back on the road. The new moon coupled with the rain made it difficult for him to see where he was going, and while the occasional flash of lightning seemed helpful at first it meant his eyes never had a chance to fully adjust to the darkness around him, rendering him blind to anything more than a few meters ahead of him. At least, until the first major bridge came into view, illuminated by a lamppost

With an elven figure beneath it.

For a moment dread threatened to overcome Seth until he took a closer look at them. They were alone from what he could tell, on foot, and unarmed aside from an umbrella. They were obviously no slavecatcher, but why were they out in this weather?. _"There's no other way across from here" Seth thought "And I'm already freezing, I'll probably die of exposure if I try and wade through. Assuming I didn't drown first." _

He'd have to play it cool, while rare it wasn't unheard of for trusted slaves to run long distance errands. If questioned he could lie and say he was picking up a delivery, and this person probably had more important things to worry about than someone else's pet. _"Just avoid eye contact... if they don't care about me then they won't bother me... right? _

Keeping his head down Seth quietly strode towards the old bridge, suddenly feeling much more vulnerable than before. The figure leaning against the stone balustrade was dressed better than Seth had expected, not richly clothed but more than a tad finer than most vagrants he had seen, he also seemed half asleep from the look of it... With a sigh of relief Seth picked up his pace an-

"Oh hello... you wouldn't happen to..."

Seth slowly turned to face the stranger, his attempt at hiding his fear only making it more clear how nervous he was.

"...have directions to St Xander's?... uh.. Miss?." said the Elf

For a moment Seth just looked at him incredulously.

"You see, I've been kinda... lost out here... for the last few hours... names Rowan by the way."