A scream—loud and rough—ripped through the mess hall’s stifling silence, its echo bouncing off ancient stone walls and lingering like a curse. Eli froze mid-step, spoon suspended above a bowl of gruel that now dripped onto a cracked bench. Across the room, Lira’s pebble stilled in her grasp as her storm-gray eyes snapped to the heavy iron doors. The other kids drew back, their breaths shallow and quick—as if they’d sensed an approaching storm.

  At his neck, the binding spell hummed in time with his racing pulse—a cold, unyielding chain that he could never shake off. Once, the garden where he’d chased butterflies had been his sanctuary; now, its memory lay buried beneath Iron Hold’s oppressive weight. Yet within him, a tiny spark flickered—a defiant ember pushing back against the Krev’s hold.

  “Shadow-beasts?” Eli whispered, voice low. The quiet that followed the scream was more oppressive than the sound itself.

  Lira’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Lower levels—they’re close tonight. Something’s up.” Her gaze flicked toward Goruk, who stood by the doors with his whip coiled, ever ready.

  A deep rumble coursed through the floor, shaking loose the dust from overhead. Eli gripped his pebble tighter, its smooth surface a small, steady anchor amid the chaos. “Eat faster!” Goruk barked suddenly, his voice hard as iron. His eyes darted toward the corridor, betraying a hint of worry beneath his usual glare—even if only for a heartbeat. The whip remained still, an unexpected pause in its habitual threat.

  Lira pushed her bowl aside and leaned in close. “Your binding’s louder—stronger than mine,” she said, her neck runes buzzing faintly with tension. Her hand brushed his pebble in a silent warning. “Keep it down, or they’ll notice.”

  Before Eli could answer, the doors banged open. Guards stormed in, boots pounding on stone as they dragged in a boy about his age. Blood streaked the kid’s torn shirt, and his runes flickered weakly, unevenly. He kicked desperately until a baton cracked his head—then he collapsed, silent.

  “Caught him near the shaft,” one guard said grimly to Goruk. “Beasts got him.”

  Goruk’s jaw tightened; his whip shifted once in a brief motion. “To the pits—show them,” he ordered sharply. His gaze swept over the room and caught Eli’s for a fleeting second, softening with an unspoken sorrow before hardening again. “Stay put, or you’re next.”

  Blood pooled on the floor, and Eli’s stomach twisted with a mix of fear and anger. A spark—bright and quick—ignited inside him. Lira gripped his wrist firmly. “Not yet,” she hissed, her own nerves evident in her determined stare.

  Then, a bell rang—lights out—and the tension was sliced by a sudden, harsh command. Guards herded the kids from the hall into a dormitory where stone bunks were stacked high, and the air was damp and sour with mildew. Eli followed Lira to a shadowed corner, her steps confident despite the floor’s trembling.

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  “First night’s tough,” she murmured, leaning against the wall as she watched the heavy door. “You’ll get the rhythm—guards, beasts, us.” Her pebble rolled once between her fingers before coming to a stop.

  “Us?” Eli’s voice cracked in the quiet.

  “Kids like me,” she replied firmly. “Dax tracks the patrols—he counts every shift. Finn fixes what we can. We stick together. You’re in now.” Her words were a quiet pact, forged in shared suffering and hope.

  Eli nodded, feeling the steady ache of the spell along his collarbone—a constant reminder of the chain that bound him. Mama’s whispered promise—“your heart is your own”—echoed in his mind like a fragile lifeline. Lira wasn’t just another captive; she was his first anchor in this place, keeping him steady amid the storm.

  A sudden, bone-chilling screech shattered the fragile peace—a sound like metal scraping bone that rattled the bunks. The children whimpered and curled tighter. Lira stiffened, her breath catching. “They’re climbing—too close,” she warned softly.

  Outside, guards shouted, their boots drumming on stone. A deep, resonant roar shook the walls, striking Eli’s chest. The binding spell flared violently; a spark leapt at his fingertips, golden and desperate. He clenched his fist, suppressing it, even as his heart pounded with both fear and defiance. “Quiet,” he told himself, Lira’s warning echoing in his mind.

  Without warning, the heavy doors crashed open. Shadow-beasts poured into the mess hall—claws slicing through stone as if it were mist, mandibles snapping with merciless speed. Screams erupted, and the room descended into chaos. “Move!” Lira cried, yanking Eli beneath a bunk as debris and dust filled the air. The impact was brutal—claws tore at the bunk’s surface, splintering wood, while a guard’s desperate charge ended with his arm snapping under a beast’s jaws, blood spraying across Eli’s face.

  Goruk charged in, his whip lashing with dark, writhing threads. It struck a beast on the side, and the creature let out a keening shriek, vanishing momentarily before reappearing behind him. In that fleeting moment, Goruk’s face softened—as if remembering a lost past—before hardening once more as he roared, driving the beast back.

  The shadow-beasts eventually retreated, their clattering echoes fading into the stone walls, leaving wrecked bunks and a heavy silence in their wake. Eli’s breathing came in harsh, ragged gasps. Lira wiped coppery blood from his cheek with a trembling hand. “You sparked,” she said in a low, urgent tone. “Bright enough—hide it until we’re ready.”

  “For what?” Eli asked, his voice raw, the binding spell still a constant weight.

  “To break this trap,” she replied, eyes glinting with fierce determination as they caught a stray torchlight. “Together—we’ll turn their fear against them.” Her words carried the resonance of Marta’s whispered caution—fear blinds those who would control us.

  A new rumble began—a deeper, almost primordial sound, as if the mountain itself stirred. Eli clutched his pebble tightly; its cool edges dug into his skin. The spark at his fingertips lingered as a small, defiant glow, while the ground beneath him trembled with an ancient, restless power. Iron Hold was not merely a cage—it was waiting.

  In that charged moment, with every heartbeat echoing the rhythm of oppression and resistance, Eli knew that despite the chains around him, a rebellion was kindling inside—a spark that might one day blaze into a fire strong enough to shatter their prison.