With wide eyes peering through the tight cut between her fleece cap and the shabby suppressor covering her face, she pressed on. People paid little attention as she passed, disregarding her animal-like appearance concealed by the oversized coat. When she paused at the bottom of a set of wide steps and looked towards Nyoka Fortification, she clutched the container of pills in her pocket, her lifeline in this desperate journey. For the past two days, she had relied on one of those precious pills every few hours. As she ventured into what had once been a restricted area, she should have been numbed by the drugs, her metabolism and hormones fooled into apathy. A week's worth of food had been traded to make her way up those steps without being detected. Yet, she was still consumed by mortal fear. The thunderous roars of the beasts inside—the cheers and jeers as her people were stripped of their dignity, then their lives—made her nauseous, though the acidic feeling might have been a side effect of the drugs. Already perspiring, grateful that others had dressed her in so many layers to conceal her true identity, Lyla took the smallest of breaths, trying not to choke on the stench of decaying flesh that clung to her clothes, and plunged into madness. Crossing the threshold was far too easy. No hand gripped her shoulder to halt her progress, no barking Master demanding to know her business. The dark void seemed eager to engulf her. Beyond the entrance, the air was thick with the scent of men—an overpowering mixture of aggressive alphas and some of the more brutish betas who had come to growl and revel in the day's entertainment. Birth titles littered the ground, remnants of shredded identities where callous boots had trampled what once represented a life. Sheets of paper were discarded, blending in with discarded flyers, wanted signs, and rubbish. The further she ventured, the more congested each chamber became, filled with a swarm of residents and the discarded scum of the Undercroft set free on the day fear gripped Nyoka. They were thugs who had taken up the Arch's mantle, men with the power to do as they pleased. Men are driven to satisfy their every whim. Wicked men. She needed to be swift, aware that if the restless crowd discovered what lay beneath the putrid filth cloaking her, she would meet a gruesome death, leaving the others to suffer. Navigating through an endless sea of feet, back pressed against the wall, eyes darting back and forth, Lyla evaded the mob, praying to remain unnoticed. The male Lyla sought out had earned a reputation for positioning himself where anyone could reach him. He stood as a symbol of power, inviting challengers to face him — and, if rumors were true, be killed by his bare hands. One could never overlook him if they tried. The audacious man who dared to call himself 'The Leader' was massive, the largest alpha she had ever laid eyes on. And not just that... the Da'rin markings. Whatever they were, they swirled across his sun- darkened skin as if an extension of his madness — primal, unnatural. The intricate designs drew the eye directly to his muscular arms, a clear warning to all who looked that the bearer was deceitful — untrustworthy. Before her city fell, bearing those shifting dark marks on one's skin had been highly illegal, punishable by death. He was a fugitive of the Undercroft, the one who had unleashed the outcasts, and he was the The monster responsible for the suffering of her people, their bodies strewn across the streets of Nyoka. Lyla swallowed, inching closer, choosing instead to focus on the well-guarded Beta Kieran gestured towards, a Beta marked with Da'rin insignia, by the looks of it. It was that man whose piercing blue eyes caught her as she crept nearer. Though meek was a gentle way to describe Lyla, from his demeanor, the Beta regarded her as nothing... less than nothing. He turned away, dismissing her approach. Clutching those pills, her protection against evil, Lyla walked straight up to the two conversing conquerors. Seeking the attention of the giant Alpha, she struggled for the right words. "I need to speak with you, Please." Kieran didn't even acknowledge her presence, blatantly ignoring the wrapped figure in her odorous attire. "It's urgent," she tried a little stronger, the desperation in her eyes, the overwhelming fear evident. How many times had this happened in her life? The complete disregard, the blatant dismissal...