They had been locked for hours on end in that dimly lit cell, unguarded. Unmonitored. Kat was almost too aware of the fact that they had been left alone. Just the two of them. She had started to get used to having someone else around, of having a party of three. Where had Merrilyn gone? When had she even left? She had been there, and then she hadn't. In all likelihood, the guards were too busy hunting her down to be concerned about two useless locked-up teens that were so bad at magic.

It was a fair evaluation. Any other day, they might have been dead-set on harnessing their realizations about the existence of magic to break out, or to use some other means. By god, they had left Gen with the few daggers he had left. It would have almost been easy to break out of the rusty old slammer if they had her bag with them, but it was long gone. A casualty to the Dragon ride that she hadn't been lucid enough to care about up to this point.

Instead, they sat and talked. It was a real good talk, in which neither of them was under duress or at risk of being murdered. Two people, locked in a cell. She hadn't known how uncomfortable Gen was about leading, how the fact he just let his family die was eating at him, how he had been killing things left and right and it was destroying him slowly from the inside. She hadn't heard exactly what he went through in the cave, or how he crippled his hand, or how he got that miraculous grey hide. It was gruesome, an awful lot to live with.

The stories she told were more about back home. How she lived with her mother. The way she caused trouble, and how stupid it seemed in hindsight. Told him why she started calling herself Kat, and how she had been through a little hell of her own when her dad died. It seemed so trivial, but Gen hung on every word. He almost seemed to relish how normal it all was. It wasn't like he treated it like it was trivial or anything, but there was a certain understanding that it was all in the past. Something she had overcome, or at least, she was overcoming.

They talked for those many hours, just two souls chattering in the night. Sitting close, acting casual, like they might have back home. It was almost therapeutic. She needed this. They needed this. A relaxing night to really figure out what they were, to figure out what they were to each-other, and where they were going to.

Then there was an explosion.

They couldn't see the explosion, but they could hear it. Feel it. The boulder shook, the blast rang through the night. Then, there was nothing. All was still again. After a few minutes, they almost convinced each-other that it was a shared hallucination of some kind, or just an earthquake, or something silly like that.

Then there was another explosion. Several, in fact. The boulder hardly had time to stop jangling about before the next one broke the night. By that point, they clung to the small barred window in the back of the cell, desperate to see what exactly was going on. Naturally, the darkness denied them that opportunity. They were too low to see the surface, anyway. Kat's blood was pumping, she was ready to run and jump and climb all over again. To start moving, and never stop. Whatever placebo she concocted for herself from the absence of the external mana was fading. The Adventurer was in there, whether she liked it or not. They stood like that, Gen and her, just close together and staring out the window, waiting for the next big boom. It never came. Her excitement died.

They left the window, and Gen started pacing. He seemed to be intent on something, mulling it over. Then he whipped around and kicked the everliving shit out of one of the ancient cell bars. It crumpled under the blow, popping out of the socket and clattering to the floor. Kat gawked.

"Focus the power to your legs, rather than your ears," He said, grinning.

She did. It felt amazing, like she was back in the Jungle again. Suddenly her blood was pumping. How would they escape? Where had Merrilyn gone? Kat had some questions that needed answering and there was only one way to fill them in- an adventure. She had some ideas for 'escape routes' and most of them were dangerous and risky and tons of fun.

She jetted out of the cell; brushing past Gen. He sprinted to keep up. The old hut (mini Alcatraz) passed in a blur. There were no guards, no angry muscle-wizard lady to stop them. They were alone on the boulder. Kat ran for the nearest chain, hopping down on to it. Thankfully, it was held taut by the weight already, so it didn't bounce- much. It was like a tightrope. She walked along it, balancing over the abyss.

The bubble of darkness was far more interesting from the inside. Her vision fell away, just for a moment, and she felt the gentle tug of whatever magical construct had been made. Then she was out, her vision clear, and she could see it all. Gen was treating the chain more carefully, shimmying along it from below, hanging using his legs and arms. His left hand may have been out of commission, but his biceps seemed to be working just fine. He was going to be there awhile, though.

So she climbed. She wanted to make good time on the quarry, and if she didn't have the full extent of the magical empowerment, any headstart was a good headstart. Why wait for Gen if she could scout ahead and call up to him when it was safe?

The climb was surprisingly easy. The ascent actually seemed to be made to be climbable, which made just a bit of sense. She hadn't seen any ladders or caves leading down to the pit, just the elevators. It did look like some places used to be tunnels, for mine-carts perhaps, but they had been filled in, possibly for stability. Still, it took a while. Merrilyn must have lucked out with the shadow bubble. Kat had the feeling it was supposed to help them establish a watch, or set up unseen archers, or just be plain intimidating, but it was unmanned at the moment. Since that was the case, it probably just provided her cover on the climb. There were fair few places to hide, barring maybe laying down on the little miner's pathways.

It would be dark soon. The sun was setting, dusky light filtering down from below. Kat was high enough to see the bridges now, hanging loftily above, seemingly entirely unsupported. It was impressive engineering, however it was done. She kept climbing, making good time. When she realized that spreading the mana in all of her extremities made her even faster, she made better time. The city above was eerily quiet. No more booms, no shouts or clatter or caravan rolling through. If the city was under attack, they were certainly calmer than she expected. Kat had seen people frenzy just because of an itty bitty storm back home.

She could see that Gen had finally made it to the base of the cliff, starting his climb. If it was a race, he had lost handily. She was near the top, in fact. Just one or two more heaves, and her head would be over the edge-

The city was burning. The markets were almost miraculously untouched, but parts of the city Kat hadn't even seen whole were demolished. She was at the far side of the hole, now, the side on which the caravan had gone. It was some sort of command structure, a small fort within the city walls, with wooden barracks and an archery range and little guard-posts. The fort was still mostly standing proud, but one of its walls had been blown clean off. She could see inside, the structure's internals mostly unharmed, some of the wooden and stone floors suddenly unseated or sagging. It was a bit like a doll house that had been split apart to reveal the occupants; just with more corpses. She could see at least two bodies, unfortunate victims who had been close to the wall when it was bombed, buried in the collapse. The job was almost too clean; there should have been more wreckage. If the individual floors were constructed to modern standards, no one may have died at all.

The barracks were another matter. Someone, or a group of someone's, had lit the grassy field on fire. It was all burning, wreckage and collapsed structures everywhere she looked. The little semi-circle of terrain was draped in smoke and heat. The guard and militia wouldn't be going home for the night, Kat figured. When she climbed just a little higher, she got a better look at the long road heading towards the other gate, the one they didn't come through.

The gate wasn't there. In its place was a pile of rubble, an impressively ornate pile of rubble, but demolished none the less. Rather than a market, that road seemed to have most of the services and homestays, the inns, taverns, eateries, and higher-class shops. Those, too, were on fire. People stood huddled in the middle of the road, gawking at the flames that surrounded them. Their livelihoods, up in smoke. They couldn't even run out the gate for water; the gate was gone. By the time they made it to the lake from the other side, anything and everything would be gone. It was a saving grace that the undercity, the housing and residences that sat to the far sides of the roads and in-between them, had not caught fire. At the least, most everyone had probably escaped before the fires took them.

They all looked so confused. The guard was nowhere Kat could see, the civilians were just in shock at the wreckage all around them. There was no attacking army, no giant monster attacking. She had a sneaking suspicion she knew what was going on, even if they didn't. It was too much for her to even suppose that meek lady would ever-

Gen popped his head up, surveying the wreckage. His scout had been hanging out on the lip of the giant hole for a while, and he could see why. It was a lot to take in. Still, they needed to capitalize on this. There was a decent chance that it was all intentional, that he could work it in to a more overarching goal. Kat nearly tipped backwards when she saw his head pop up from nowhere, but she caught her balance swiftly, flipping herself up the last little step to the ground above. If nothing else, she was athletic.

He climbed up as well as he could. If magic was so useful, why couldn't it fix his damned hand? He wanted to be a general, not a pirate.

The fire was prohibitive. He wanted to go raid the barracks, but if the fire spread any faster, it would light the entire archery field on fire. It would be risky enough to run all the way there, let alone run back. Furthermore, anyone in the barracks might be dead, but there had clearly been people in the fort before the chaos started. What if they were still manning it, wary of the next attack? No, it'd be safer to seek out the slums and look for Merrilyn. Whether or not they had to skip town would have a lot to do with the events to come. Even if Merrilyn had not done what he thought she did, they could very well be blamed for it. Cosmically bad timing, in that case.

"Kat. How do you feel about outrunning the guards?" He asked.

"I don't. I haven't seen them run."

She shook her head. Gen figured as much, but it should be fine either way. As long as her inner Adventurer weren't telling her to head for the hills, she could probably win the race. He continued, "We're going for the slums. Look for anything you could use as a weapon."

For his part, he pulled out one of his daggers. This was the old Kukri he had found on a Dwarf corpse. He wondered if it would score him any reputation with the group if he returned it. They were fairly close to the Jungle- or at least the Dragon ride made it feel that way- and he saw quite a few Dwarf-like people in the market. Maybe the dead adventurers had come from around here? Not that it mattered anymore. The scary bit would be crossing the bridge. Bridges were danger. You couldn't trust them to be empty, stay empty, or shelter you. In many cases, it meant there would only be two escapes, and both were choke-points. Even in Earthian history, where there weren't giant chasms lying around everywhere, bridges had decided battles.

It made him nervous, running along the massive bridge. They were heading towards the nigh-empty market, sure. There had been no muscle-men or goblins or dwarves or anything, sure. It still wasn't enough to make prickling crawling up his spine go away. Kat must have been able to tell how uncomfortable he was with the situation, too. Rather than running at top speed, she was actually keeping pace with him. Even at his pace, they made good time. It was nice, running across the bridge in the sunset, side by side with her. He was almost tempted to put down his general cap and go back to flirting.

Nothing was ever easy, though. He wasn't complaining. At this point, he was practically addicted to chaos.

As they neared the end of bridge, markets in sight, guards filed out from the side-roads and lined up, shoulder to shoulder. Most were Frankensteins, but a few Goblins were mixed in. They had spears and bows drawn, and the Goblins covered gaps between them with little daggers and sharp glares. One of the ones near the middle shouted at them. Gen almost forgot to channel mana back to his ears, and as they kept running, they guards got tenser.

"Halt, in the name of the Law." The guard shouted again. So he did. Kat was reluctant, but when he put a hand on her shoulder as she passed by, she stopped too.

He stood resolute, sweeping a gaze over the small army. As confidently as possible, he spoke.

"You really, really don't want this fight."

The guards crouched. Fury washed over their faces, but also apprehension. Their city was on fire and the culprits were some strange, un-muscled race that could evidently use magic, where one such specimen dared to speak so arrogantly to a crowd of armed guards.

"Advance, two paces." The leader shouted at them, addressing once more the grey-cloaked traveler. "You will subject yourself to scrutiny or you will be a criminal outright. Comply, now."

Gen started chuckling. He was certain of it, now. What Merrilyn was doing, and why she was doing it. It dawned on him like the light new day, even as the sun was setting. This world had a lot of learning to do. He charged at the guards. They tensed, ready to strike at him, holding the line. Before he got in spear's reach, he tucked the dagger back in his jerkin and swerved, launching himself for the bridge's railing, flinging his body over the edge. The guards shouted, shocked, and any semblance of military discipline they had fell apart. A few of them rushed to the edge, to see where he had gone. Morbid curiosity, perhaps.

He hadn't fallen, though. He had launched himself for the cliff-face, a safe route to soil, well behind their little trap. The impact hurt like hell, but pain was a trivial thing. What was important was that he caught the ground, clung to it, and before the guards could really make sense of it, he was back to his feet. The thud and rumble of the ground beside him as he climbed up told him Kat had followed suit. The girl would probably be on her feet and sprinting before he even made it to his feet.

The guards gawked. Even the slipperiest of thieves hadn't tried something as stupid as that. It was practically suicide, an untenable risk. Surrender and trial had a higher chance of survival. They reacted late, the few soldiers fast enough to react breaking rank completely to chase after the two little creatures running from them. The goblins would have had a better shot at catching them, but they were stock-still. If the guards were surprised and awed, the goblins were shocked to the extreme.

It was common knowledge to the Goblin that the big ones had lost their brain. In the Homeworld, it was said that the Goblin's survival and success was from their nimbleness, their dedication to a singular cause, their decisiveness. They had been a great race, once. The First Ones had even revealed that they were one of the Twenty, long in the past. It was only a matter of lost tradition that relegated their once-proud race to backwaters like this. They still had the tales, the great stories of old, but no living specimen to learn from. They were guards, assistants, merchants, and thieves, but never warriors. Not true Goblins.

The first human had trusted his life to the Plan, cripple or no, and flew. He had maneuvered around superior strength or numbers with a smile and a bluff and unwavering dedication. This, the Goblins were awed by. The male was a Goblin in Gomen clothing. Perhaps that was why they were so big, so pale. They were in disguise.

The real shock had come from the female one. She had no trust in the Plan, but she had absolute faith in her Chieftain. Before he even hit the Great Pit's wall, she was in the air. Without a single word, she leapt and followed and even surpassed him, intuiting his goal. They were a perfect cell, a unit in motion. They had no wings, but they had flown. Perhaps it wasn't as dangerous as the Goblins or the Gomed had thought, that it was the right plan for such an agile race. Even as one of the shocked guards said as much, the Goblins shook their head in unison.

There were other choices to make. The two could have run back to the other side, or stolen an elevator to return from whence they came. They could have submitted and escaped as the group tried to apprehend them. Of all of the things they could have done, they had not chosen the 'correct' one, or the 'right' one. They had chosen the most effective. The one that would, should they succeed, aid in completing the Plan. Failure had not been an option to the creatures. The Goblins knew this feeling, they recognized this. It conjured images of their heroes long past, the great ones who they had heard of as children. The male and the female had no wings, but they flew, because the Plan and the Chieftain demanded it. That was what broke the Goblins. Their Gomed compatriots recovered, those who had not chased the two. They shook them and spoke to them, but they were lost to the world. They had always been lost to the world, and they had never even known it.

They had seen what a Goblin was. What a Goblin should be. The first Goblins in centuries, and they weren't even green. They had disappeared into the distance. Like clockwork, each member of their little platoon exchanged glances, and marched, leaving behind the confused Gomed. They needed to capture the two, at all costs. Not for the silly laws or their jobs, those were inconsequential. It was a burning need, to find out what drove the two specimens so, something they had to learn- no matter the cost.

The spark of a Great Race, once abandoned and left to die, has finally been relit.