Goruk’s voice boomed down the hall—“Secure the east gate!”—but his boots turned west. A calculated risk, a desperate gamble. Marta waited by the wall, her face etched with worry, a roadmap of past battles. No coins this time. Just a map inked on linen, still damp. “The ravine,” she breathed, her voice rough with unshed tears. “Tell Erin and Liora... tell them I kept my word.” Her voice cracked, and for a moment, the tough exterior crumbled, revealing a glimpse of the woman she once was.

  We ran. Not toward the howls, but the silence between them, a path less traveled, a path to freedom. I eased the door open, the memory of that first violent night sharp in my mind - the crash of our gate, Papa's staff glowing bright, then falling, Mama's screams. But I wasn't that helpless six-year-old anymore. We moved like shadows through Iron Hold's corridors, using the skills we'd practiced in countless "games" of hide-and-seek. The binding spell around my neck tingled—a constant reminder of the Krev's control, but even that had become a tool. I'd learned to sense when guards were near by the way it reacted to their enchanted weapons. The spell felt cold, almost alive, but it didn't just restrain, it seemed to be devouring our magic, drawing it away somewhere. And sometimes, in the night, I'd trace the runes, feeling a strange kinship with them, a sense of ancient power slumbering within, a power I couldn't yet access, but one I knew was there.

  Through the gap behind the flour sacks, our bodies moved in practiced synchronicity. Each step was precise, each breath measured. The stolen map crinkled in my pocket, its damp ink holding the promise of freedom, but it was our shared rhythm that truly guided us—the unity of bodies that had learned to move as one.

  The sounds of battle grew closer, metal shrieking against metal, monstrous roars shaking dust from the ceiling. Little Mina's whimper was swallowed by my palm, her tiny frame trembling against me. My other hand found the familiar pattern of scratches we'd carved into the wall—three vertical, two horizontal, the true path, our secret code.

  When the hidden door swung open, our unity crystallized into something beyond conscious thought. Bodies flowed through the gap, each movement cushioned by the next, supporting, protecting. We were more than individual children—we were a single entity, shaped by years of shared pain and forbidden hope.

  The passage erupted in chaos as shadow-beasts crashed through the distant wall. Lira's fingers flashed—our old signals evolving instantly under pressure. Two taps became three, then a quick slide down my arm: multiple threats, converging, find high ground. Her pebble glowed faintly in her hand, a soft, warm light in the encroaching darkness. She traced patterns in the air, muscle memory fighting against the binding spell's restraint. Even bound, her instincts sang with suppressed power. I'd seen her once, during a guard shift change, unconsciously weaving air currents to muffle our footsteps. The binding spell had punished her instantly, leaving her breathless and pale, clutching her throat, but that split second had revealed the depth of her true abilities.

  Dax moved like liquid shadow, herding the younger ones against the wall, muttering numbers under his breath, a constant stream of calculations. His shoulders tensed—immediate threat, prepare to run. Finn materialized at my side, lockpicks dancing between his fingers, their metallic whisper a silent countdown. He tapped his temple twice. Plan. His eyes darted around, taking in every detail, every shadow.

  A monstrous roar shattered the air, close, too close. The binding spells flared, sending waves of ice through our veins. Lira's breath hitched—not from pain, but recognition. Her hands sketched urgent patterns: the beasts were drawn to magical energy. She could see it, even through the binding spell's haze—threads of energy writhing in the air, pulling the creatures toward us, like moths to a flame.

  "Split and flow," I whispered, using the phrase we'd practiced countless times, a mantra of survival. Bodies moved instantly. The younger ones pressed into alcoves, seeking refuge in the shadows. Dax and Finn flanked the group, their movements a choreographed dance of protection, a shield against the darkness.

  Lira's fingers found my wrist, tapping out a complex rhythm: something building in the air, a gathering of power. Her other hand traced familiar patterns—instinctive attempts to weave protective barriers. The spell turned each attempt into white-hot agony, leaving her gasping, but she persisted, her pebble pulsing with a soft, inner light, a beacon in the gloom.

  The shadow-beasts' clicking grew closer, a chorus of death. Lira's grip tightened—she could see the threads of power, could feel how to weave them into protection, but the spell turned each attempt into agony. Still, she fought, her brow furrowed in concentration. The clicking was no longer a distant echo, but a sharp, staccato rhythm resonating in the stone, in the air, in their very bones.

  A screech of rending metal—closer now, right on top of us. We moved as one, each member responding to subtle shifts in pressure and position. When Mina stumbled, three hands steadied her, a silent, coordinated effort. The youngest ones instinctively matched their breathing to ours, a chorus of held breaths.

  Then came Goruk's voice, a rumble of approaching thunder: "Secure the east gate!"

  Lira's fingers drummed against my palm: his footsteps were turning west. Her hand made an aborted gesture—muscle memory trying to gather air currents. The binding spell flared, and we all felt the surge of pain, a searing heat that stole our breath and made our vision blur.

  But we'd learned to adapt. Instead of weaving air, we controlled our breathing in precise patterns, a silent, shared rhythm. Instead of magical barriers, we used bodies and shadows, positioning and timing. What Lira couldn't do with her suppressed magic, we achieved through perfect unity, a symphony of silent movement.

  The corridor exploded into chaos. Shadow-beasts crashed through stone, their chitinous legs spraying granite shards like deadly rain. The clicking intensified, a maddening cacophony that vibrated through their bodies, amplified by the binding spells' heightened sensitivity. The spells blazed, reacting to the surge of corrupted energy. Each pulse sent lightning through our veins, but we rode the pain, used it, channeling it into focused action.

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  Lira's hand shot out—three quick taps, palm flat, fingers spread. New signal, born of desperation: multiple threats, magical resonance, scatter pattern. Her binding spell sparked and sputtered, the air around her rippling with suppressed potential, a caged bird beating its wings.

  "Now!" The command tore from my throat, raw and urgent, as a shadow-beast's tail whipped through the space we'd occupied seconds before. Our group split like mercury, flowing into practiced formations. Dax, muttering his calculations, guided the youngest ones low, making them liquid shadows, blending into the darkness. Finn and I materialized at the flanks, our movements a lethal dance, a whirlwind of desperation.

  A guard's enhanced weapon fired with a horrific, unnatural sound. The binding spells reacted violently, runes glowing intensely. Two younger ones fell in pain, but supporting hands quickly lifted them, urging everyone onward. No one was left behind.

  "Breach point!" Lira's voice cracked with urgency, a thread of desperation. Her fingers danced, marking patterns she could see but couldn't touch. The binding spell pulsed angry red, a malevolent eye. But her eyes tracked invisible currents, reading the flow of power like a map, searching for a way out. "Three seconds—move!"

  We surged forward as one, just as the wall to our left disintegrated, blown apart by some unseen force. Perfect timing. The shadow-beast's charge missed us by inches, its bulk creating cover, a momentary shield from our pursuers. Finn's hands flashed—enhanced weapons, two guards, moving parallel. He tapped his temple. Plan. His movements were precise, economical, conveying volumes in a few gestures.

  The binding spells constricted as Goruk's weapon discharged nearby. The backlash felt like molten metal down our spines, a searing agony. But we'd trained for this. Bodies pressed together, sharing the load, distributing the pain. Where one faltered, three others compensated, a silent, unbreakable chain.

  A metallic screech—another beast, closer. No time for signals. We moved on instinct, years of experience translating into fluid motion. Lira's shoulder brushed mine: incoming left. Dax's breath hitched, his hands guiding the younger ones: guard approaching. He was already adjusting our path, muttering numbers, his calculations a lifeline. Finn's fingers tightened on my sleeve: alternate route needed. Then he made his “shh” sign, reminding us to stay silent, his eyes scanning the darkness.

  Then Goruk's voice boomed, and our binding spells resonated with his proximity, the runes twisting like live wires. The pain was exponential, each collar feeding into the others, creating a feedback loop of agony. But that same connection let us move in perfect synchronization, our shared suffering a tactical advantage.

  Shadow-beasts crashed through stone like paper, their movements relentless, unstoppable. The clicking was everywhere now, a deafening chorus, each click a hammer blow against their resolve. The binding spells blazed, each pulse sending lightning-strike agony through our connected bodies. But pain was an old friend—we rode it like a wave, using its sharp clarity to focus our movements.

  "Looking for something, brat?" Goruk's voice, rough as grinding stones, echoed through the compound, cutting through the din of battle.

  He stood silhouetted against the torchlight, his massive form casting a long, distorted shadow that seemed to writhe with a life of its own. The scars on his back, where his wings had once been, seemed to deepen in the flickering light. His eyes, usually cold, held a strange intensity as they locked onto mine.

  "SCATTER!" I commanded as Goruk's weapon discharged, reality warping around its muzzle in sickening ripples. Our group exploded apart, a perfectly timed maneuver. The youngest ones dropped and rolled, making themselves liquid shadows, disappearing into the darkness. Dax and Finn materialized at the flanks, their movements a lethal choreography, a whirlwind of motion designed to confuse and disorient.

  Lira's hand found mine in the chaos, her grip telegraphing urgent intel: the binding spells were resonating with something ahead, something big, something powerful. Her body tensed, fighting the spell's restrictions, trying to access the power that hummed just beyond reach, a caged animal desperate to break free. The air around her crackled, and her pebble pulsed with a warm light, a tiny sun in the darkness.

  A shadow-beast lunged, its mandibles snapping shut where we'd stood. But we were already moving, flowing like mercury through the narrowing space. The beast's bulk shattered columns, bringing down debris that became our cover, a temporary shield. The clicking intensified, a relentless pursuit, each click a promise of pain.

  "Oil flask – NOW!" I yelled, the words ripped from my throat.

  Lira's arm whipped forward, the bottle spinning end over end. Time stretched. The binding spells screamed in our veins. Pain blazed white-hot behind my eyes.

  CRACK-BOOM!

  The flask exploded against the beast's carapace, spraying burning liquid in a defensive curtain, a wall of fire. Goruk's bellow of rage cut through the inferno, but we were already moving, flowing through memorized routes. When Mina stumbled, three pairs of hands caught her, their movements seamless, practiced.

  My binding spell constricted like a noose of fire as we approached the fence gap, the runes pulsing in warning, a frantic heartbeat. Something massive was powering up behind us – the air felt thick, charged, almost suffocating. Lira's fingers dug into my arm: five seconds. Her other hand clutched the stone, its point vibrating almost imperceptibly.

  "SPLIT!" The command needed no voice – a sharp shoulder-check sent the message rippling through our group. Bodies peeled away, multiplying Goruk's targets, creating confusion. The binding spells synced, a network of shared pain and coordinated movement.

  The fence gap loomed, barely wide enough for one at a time. No hesitation. Bodies flowed through, each person pulling the next forward. The binding spells shrieked as enhanced weapons discharged behind us, reality distorting, the very air rippling around us.

  Then we were through, sprinting for the tree line. The forest swallowed us as something massive exploded behind us, sending shockwaves through the earth, a physical force that nearly knocked us off our feet. But we didn't stop. Our feet found purchase on invisible paths, bodies moving in sync through the undergrowth, a well-oiled machine.

  The binding spells pulsed a final warning – something big was coming. The air felt wrong, charged with a malevolent power that made my teeth ache and my vision blur. Time for the final gambit.

  Branches whipped past, leaving bright lines of pain across exposed skin. The forest floor blurred beneath our feet. Behind us, Goruk's forces crashed through the undergrowth, their weapons charging the air with that foul energy that made our binding spells shriek, protesting, straining at their limits. The clicking had faded, replaced by the crashing of bodies and the roar of enraged Krev.

  Lira's hand locked onto my wrist, her fingers dancing urgent patterns against my pulse: they’re flanking us. Her other hand clutched the stone, its point vibrating almost imperceptibly. She kept twitching upward, muscle memory fighting to weave barriers that the binding spell brutally suppressed. Even bound, she could sense the currents of power surging around us, could read the battlefield in ways the rest of us couldn't.