The Snare of Shadows

Worldfair City shimmered under a dusk sky, its brass spires and airship lanes aglow with lantern light. The streets buzzed with hawkers peddling clockwork gadgets and the hum of steam vents, but exhaustion weighed on Walenciusz the Cat and his crew after days on the road. His tophat drooped as he trudged beside Gorrick, whose Excalibur clinked in its sheath, and Alice, her broom dragging as its runes flickered dimly. They'd come chasing bandit bounties—rumors of a dragon hoard stashed in the undercity—but the journey had left them ragged.

"Enough prowling," Walenciusz yawned, adjusting his cloak. "I need a bed, not another fight." Gorrick grunted agreement, and Alice pointed to a weathered sign: The Gilded Cog Inn. "Cheap and close," she said. "We'll hunt tomorrow." 

The inn's interior hit them like a smoky slap—pipe fumes curled around clinking mugs, and the air buzzed with rowdy chatter. The trio swapped a handful of troll teeth from their Cresthaven haul for a cramped room: three cots squeezed under a rattling ceiling fan. Walenciusz flopped onto his, tophat sliding over his face. "Wake me when the gold falls from the sky." he mumbled. Gorrick and Alice didn't argue, collapsing onto their own cots as the city's hum lulled them into a deep, unguarded sleep. 

Big mistake.

The night was still young when trouble crept in. A floorboard creaked—Gorrick's instincts flared too late as a burlap sack smothered his face, coarse ropes snapping tight around his wrists. Alice jolted awake, runes sparking as she hissed "Ventus—!"—only for a gag to choke the spell mid-word. Walenciusz twitched, claws unsheathing in reflex, but a damp rag reeking of chloroform clamped over his muzzle. His amber eyes blazed with fury, then fluttered shut as he slumped, tophat tumbling to the floor with a sad little thud. Bandits in patched leather moved like ghosts, hoisting the limp cat over their shoulders and slipping out, leaving Gorrick and Alice bound, kicking, and cursing into the dark. 

Walenciusz woke to a splitting headache and the clank of chains. His tophat was gone, his paws shackled, and the air stank of damp stone and sulfur. Blinking groggily, he found himself dangling in a cavern beneath Worldfair's north spire, torchlight glinting off jagged stalactites. In front of him loomed something big—with scales black as midnight, wings pinned by iron chains.

A gang of bandits milled around, their leader a wiry creep with a scarred grin, twirling Walenciusz's tophat like a trophy. A horn etched with blood-red runes hung at his hip, pulsing faintly. 

"Rise and shine, kitty," the bandit sneered, voice dripping with mockery. "You're our little key to glory."

Walenciusz spat, chains rattling as he glared. "Key to what, you mangy cur? My claws in your throat?"

The bandit's grin widened, and he unsheathed a dagger with a theatrical flourish. "Oh, you'll see soon enough, puss."

Back at The Gilded Cog, dawn cracked the sky with a vengeance. Alice's broom flared to life, runes blazing as it sliced through her ropes like butter. She yanked the gag free, coughing, and scrambled to untie Gorrick. He ripped his own bindings off with a snarl that rattled the walls. "They took Whiskers!" he roared, grabbing Excalibur from the floor. "I'll carve those rats into stew!"

Alice snatched her map from her satchel, its parchment glowing violet as a rune pulsed near the north spire. "Undercity," she said, voice tight with urgency.

They burst into Worldfair's streets, shoving past bewildered merchants and clanking automatons. The city still buzzed with morning life, oblivious to the chaos brewing beneath. Gorrick's fists clenched, Excalibur gleaming like a beacon of payback. "Where'd those scum drag him? I'll tear this glitter-trap apart if I have to!" 

Alice traced the map's glowing lines, her brow furrowing. "Tunnels under the docks—I think. But without his nose, we're stumbling blind." A loud tremor rocked the ground, sending airships wobbling overhead as screams pierced the air. 

They darted through the city, guided by the map's flickering light, dodging chunks of falling stone. Loud noise bloomed in the distance—Gorrick charged toward it, boots pounding, only to skid to a halt as a shadow leapt into their path. 

Tortoiseshell fur shimmered under the torchlight, emerald eyes glinting like twin daggers, a copper pendant glowing at her throat. She stood upright—hybrid, just like Walenciusz—clutching a glass blade that looked suspiciously sharp. 

"Who the heck are you?!" Gorrick shouted out, raising Excalibur with a scowl. Alice hovered, runes pulsing as she snapped, "Friend or foe? Talk fast!"

The cat smirked, tails flicking. "Name's Lissey. I know the way—your gray tom's in deep. I can sniff him out from here." Her voice was a husky snarl, pendant thrumming as she pointed north. "Bandits nabbed him. We have to move fast" 

Gorrick's jaw dropped, sword dipping. "Another cat? And a hybrid?!" Alice's eyes widened, map trembling in her grip. "You're… just like him. How's that even possible?" 

"No time for your gaping," Lissey cut in, ears twitching. "He's bleeding—I can smell it. Follow me or we lose him for good." She spun on her heel, darting into the shadows, pendant glowing like a lodestar. Gorrick and Alice traded a dumbfounded look—We?!—another Walenciusz?—then bolted after her. 

Worldfair teetered on the brink, and their missing rogue's fate dangled by a tortoiseshell thread.