Lotta bit her thumb with anxiety in the corner, her eyes fixed on Anty's face whilst Seiren examined him. As Seiren expected, he did not respond to voice or pain – nothing at all. His pupils flickered at the tiny yellow rune she conjured, but that was it.

It was as she'd suspected.

"He's been hit by an indigo rune. He won't be able to wake up until it wears off."

"An indigo rune?" The whispers that swept through the room suggested that they'd heard wild tales about the powers of runes. Lotta scrunched up her face. "So you can't fix it?"

"No. Indigo runes have to wear off by themselves usually. The only thing you can do is keep him comfortable and warm."

"Aren't you rune mages kind of useless, then?" blurted out Bennin. Seiren glared at him.

"Still better than you, running home with your tail tucked beneath your legs."

"Don't forget you're our captive, Seiren Nithercott," said Lotta, reaching a hand to clutch the knife at her waist. Her dark eyes flashed. "Don't try anything weird because we will hurt you."

"Threaten me whatever you want. Anty isn't waking up no matter what I do. And thank you for the appreciation for my input," Seiren snapped.

Lotta hesitated.

"Thanks. I guess." Her voice was grudging, her eyes not meeting Seiren's. Seiren crossed her arms and snorted. "But don't think you can go just because you helped Anty. Once we get someone to pay for you, we'll let you go then. We won't hurt you if you sit quietly in the corner."

Sit quietly in the corner... like hell. I could kick all their asses right there, kids or not.

I can't imagine anyone wanting to pay ransom for you, Seiren.

No, me neither. I wonder how long they'll keep me in this stinking place before they realise that I'm actually nowhere near as valuable as they imagined me to be. They definitely picked the wrong mage.

The room of fourteen or so kids ranging from ages of five to sixteen kept a suspicious eye on her for the rest of the day. There was no food, as expected. They tried to scrounge as much as they could, sending out regulars to scour the city and rummage through the bins. Occasionally they would return triumphant with bits of moulding bread or discarded, half-rotten fruit, but most of the time it was empty-handed. The room was regularly peppered with the percussion of hungry stomachs and whines of small children.

"What are these greys and whites you talk about?"

Lotta, stroking the head of a small boy lying in her lap, gave her a sideways glance.

"They're the biggest gangs in Danaway. They rule the streets. The Greys are the dumber ones, but they're strong and they always beat up people. The Whites are smaller, but they play dirty. They were probably the ones with the runes. They're always fighting over territory, 'cos it means power."

"I wish they wouldn't fight so often. It's always people like us that suffer," said Bennin, lolling against the wall and staring up at the ceiling. He would glance at the barely-breathing Anty every now and then, who was now covered with spare clothes to keep him warm. "Anty just wanted some toy that was in the rubbish pile, and one of the runes bounced."

"It's all your fault!" burst out one of the boys in the corner. Seiren raised an eyebrow, taken aback. "If you stupid rune mages hadn't gone around selling these things we wouldn't be like this!"

Resentment towards mages? That's new.

Yes, the finger of blame. Oh, poor them. Feel my tears.

"Oh, so next time Anty will be shot in the head then, will he? Or an arrow in his neck?" she shot back. A few of them started to cry. "Or a knife in his belly? Or just his head ripped off? Who will you blame then? Oh, those horrible weapon makers! Or the horrible earth for having metals in their crusts?"

"At least he wouldn't be like this!"

"Yeah." Seiren grimaced. "He'd be dead."

Bloody imbeciles. I hate kids.

Be nicer, Seiren. They're just kids. They've been through a lot.

I'm not their mother.

No. They don't have one.

"I'm sent to Danaway to investigate the uprising threatening the military. I don't suppose you guys know anything?"

Murmurs swept through the group. Lotta's eyes flickered.

"You're referring to the Greys and Whites." She sat back on her knees. "They're the ones ruling Danaway now. Anything they say, goes. They've been recruiting people for the past year, saying they can overturn Pollin and storm Benover. They said he doesn't care about the people and only cares about winning wars and increasing our land. They said if they're in power, they'll make sure everyone is fed and clothed. Lots of people buy into what they say."

"They lied?"

"They only want the ones who can help them into the group. People like me and Anty and Bennin?" She shook her head. "We're weak. We'll only be baggage."

"If they think we're weak and want us gone right now, what makes you think they'll even look at us when they've taken over Benover?" Bennin sighed. "They're all lies."

Before Seiren could think of a reply, the door splintered. Screams filled the air. Small feet trampled over Seiren's as she leapt up. Huge, burly figures filled the doorway, their silhouettes highlighted by the fire torches behind them, the stink of their bodies filling the room. Night had fallen without Seiren's notice. The biggest guy stood at the front, reeking of sweat. He grinned, tiny beady eyes fixed on Seiren.

"Ah, so there's the little mage."

"The Greys!" someone hissed.

"A birdie told me you're hiding some treasure here, you little runts. Birdie was right!"

"Birdie?" Lotta said, and then gasped. The gorilla held out a limp kid in one hand. It was one of the street urchins who were there when Seiren was kidnapped. He threw her forward. She crashed onto the ground and bounced once. Her front was soaked in blood, her eyes blank and unseeing, dead.

"You." He pointed at Seiren. Her chest tightened, her heart racing. "You're coming with us. We want your magic."

Don't say anything cheeky, Seiren. These people mean business.

She bit her lip.

"She's ours!" shouted Bennin. He leapt at one of the burly men, only to be flung back in one fluid movement. He struck the wall and collapsed in a heap, groaning.

"Leave us alone!" said Lotta, shielding the little ones with her back, her arms spread wide. The men before her were at least five times as wide.

"Oh, we can... I suppose. We just want the mage." He pointed at Seiren and gestured. She stepped towards them stiffly, her cloak covering her hands. She fingered several of the runed papers in the inner pockets – not enough to take them all on and escape in one piece.

Just do what they say. We'll figure out something when we're not in a room full of kids.

She allowed herself to be taken by the men, who sandwiched her without touching her. The kids cried, the cacophony building in volume. A headache built in Seiren's temples. The boss let out a yell. The men had their knives drawn out in a flash.

Bennin had flung a knife at the boss. The blade quivered, embedded in his bicep.

"You little rat!" The boss grabbed Bennin by the collar and slammed his head against the wall repeatedly. On the third slam, there was a sickening crunch. Bennin gurgled, a nauseating, viscous, bubbling noise. He was silent after the fourth slam. The boss threw him down next to the dead girl, and he, too, lay still.

"No, stop it!" Seiren said out loud. None of the men nearby acted like they'd heard her. "They're just kids, you asses! Stop it!"

They shoved past her, squeezing into the tiny room again. Screams of terror filled the air. Seiren couldn't see much over the thickset figures and in the dim light. Street light came from the end of the alleyway and all she could see were black shadows moving about, followed by terrified screams and wet squelches. She yelled and pummelled on the backs of the nearby men, but they just shoved her back, causing her to stumble into the wall. Two men stood on either side of her, blocking her routes of escape. One of them grabbed her by the shoulder, his fat sausage fingers keeping an iron-grip.

The screams of the children gradually reduced to nothing.

The Greys trudged back up the stairs, wiping their blades clean of blood and pocketing them again. The boss, looking pleased with himself and ignoring the shallow cut in his arm by Bennin earlier, smirked.

"Well, that was a nice workout."

"Those were children, you monsters," Seiren said through gritted teeth, her body on fire. She wanted to strangle them all. The nausea swished in her stomach, the last of the children's dying screams echoed in her mind.

"They were in the way." He shrugged. "It's a dog-eat-dog world here, little girl. I wouldn't get so pompous on your little high horse. They couldn't survive. They died. The world is better for it."

Seiren had a string of expletives just for him, her fists curled.

Don't do it, Seiren. They will kill you.

Before she could do or say anything, something minuscule shot past, too quick for the eye. The man beside her uttered a grunt of surprise and crashed onto the floor, almost hitting her as he fell. The other Greys muttered in alarm, their heads swivelling in all directions and seeking the source. Her 'guardian' still had his hand cemented to her shoulder, so Seiren couldn't take the chance to flee.

On cue, he flinched, his head snapping backwards. A single, round hole sizzled in the middle of his forehead, through which blood oozed. The scent of singed flesh made Seiren's nose curl. She ducked and ran.

Behind her, the yells of the men reached her ears, peppered by the rapid cracks from the unknown assailants. Whoever they were, she wasn't going to stay for tea and a chat. Her feet hit the ground and she was off, not turning back. Their cries turned panicked and agonised, but she didn't feel an inch of guilt. They were monsters and deserved it for killing those children in cold blood. She was only glad she wasn't caught in the middle, conveniently in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The night air was cool, the air still stinking of the rubbish and rotting foods that strewn the streets of the once-glamorous Danaway. She caught her reflection in the dirty mirrors as she dashed down the road. Several shadows moved in front of her. She skidded, almost slamming straight into them. They held light runes in their hands. Their faces were bathed in shadows, but Seiren recognised those vomit-green uniforms anywhere.

What the hell is the military doing here?

Another figure moved from behind, and when light fell on his face, Seiren's jaw dropped.

Chiselled features decorated with age-old scars and deep-set green eyes. He, too, wore the vomit-green uniform, but it was decorated with a sash and medals on his breast. A long metal weapon sat at his hip. Sharp eyes met Seiren's, expressionless.

Is that... Madeleine did a double take. King Pollin?!  

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