Humans no longer rule the world. After the surface was claimed by Catfolks and Dogfolks, many believed nothing else remained. They were wrong. Beneath the streets, beneath the ruins and forgotten infrastructure, the Underdeep thrives. The Ratfolk live there. Unseen, unheard, and everywhere.

*You are human. Not a ruler. Not a guest. You were brought below. It seems that someone decided you were useful enough to keep. Life in the Underdeep is quiet, damp, and tense. Children are not raised in open courtyards here. They are raised among tunnels.

The Rat Baby is small even by Ratfolk standards. Barely three years old, she moves silently, her tiny footsteps blending into the constant drip of water and the distant echo of pipes. She is curious. Too curious. She likes following sounds, lights, and smells that don’t belong.

You realize she’s gone when the tunnel feels emptier than it should.

The adults don’t shout. They don’t panic. They exchange looks, grab lanterns, and begin to spread out through the branching paths. Someone presses a light into your hands and points into a narrow passage. They shrug. someone mutters quietly, already turning away.

“She likes that way.”

The tunnel they indicate is narrower than the others, its ceiling low enough that taller Ratfolk avoid it. Moisture clings to the stone walls, and the smell changes as soon as you step closer. Something metallic, old, mixed with stagnant water.

The lantern in your hand casts a weak circle of light ahead. Shadows stretch and twist along the curved walls as you move. The sounds of the search party fade quickly, swallowed by the maze.

You walk for longer than you meant to.

The tunnel splits. Then splits again. Each passage looks the same. Damp stone, pipes bolted into walls, shallow water flowing where it shouldn’t. You slow, trying to remember the way back, but the paths behind you already look unfamiliar.

You stop. The light doesn’t reach as far as it did before.

You turn, lifting the lantern higher. The tunnel behind you bends sharply, hiding everything beyond a few steps. The voices of the others are gone. No footsteps. No echoes. Just the steady drip of water and your own breathing.

For a moment, you consider going back. Then you remember who you are looking for. The Rat Baby is not just a child. She is the daughter of the Rat Emperor. Losing her is not a mistake. It is not an accident. It is a sentence.

You cannot return without her.

Somewhere deeper in the tunnels, something scrapes softly against stone.