The exit passage narrowed to a single curved gateway.
Beyond it: open air. The outer wall. Freedom.
But only if they got through it alive.
Auren stopped at the lip of the arch. His breath slowed. There were voices ahead—quiet, clipped.
Two guards stood at the breach in the outer wall, spears grounded, eyes scanning through the night. The escape tunnel's exit passed just beneath their post. There would be no slipping by.
Auren watched the rhythm of their movement.
Right guard: rocks on heels every four seconds.Left guard: fingers twitch on the shaft of his spear when anxious.One's boot was loose.The other was trying not to look cold.
"We're not getting past them clean," he whispered.
Wazir said nothing. He didn't even blink.
Serai leaned in. "Ideas?"
"I can give them something to feel," Auren said. His voice was calm. Too calm.
She narrowed her eyes. "You sure?"
"No."
He stepped forward anyway.
Auren didn't run.
He walked out slowly. Hands empty. Not raised.
The guards turned in perfect sync. Blades lifted. Then paused.
They recognized him.
"Second son," one said. Not a title. A warning.
"I don't want a fight," Auren said, voice steady. "But I'm not going back inside."
"You don't get to decide that."
"Neither do you."
Auren lifted his hand slightly—just enough to feel.
He reached for one of them. Not both. The one on the left.
And found it.
A moment. A fracture. Not rage. Not fear, But something much more interesting.
Shame.
A man, Once too slow to act, now left behind as nothing more than an Outer Guard—while the others moved on, he stands alone, draped in failure.
Auren pulled.
Not a full thread. Just a tinge of it.
The man staggered. Breath caught. Eyes wide.
"You—what did you—?"
His partner lunged.
Too late.
Serai was already moving.
She slammed her shoulder into the second guard mid-charge. He hit the ground hard. His spear clattered away. Serai gritted her teeth, grabbed the collar of his armor, and drove her elbow into his throat.
One. Two. Done.
The other guard was still shaking.
Auren stepped in.
"I didn't take anything from you," he said. "I just reminded you what you were hiding from."
Then he hit him once—knuckles to temple. Quick. Efficient.
The man dropped.
Silence.
A single breath passed.
Then Wazir stepped over the bodies and looked at Auren like he was studying a portrait he'd seen before—but couldn't remember when.
"You didn't reach too far this time," he said, mildly impressed.
"I didn't need to."
Wazir's smile was faint, his words even more faint. "No. But they will."
He turned, robes brushing the grass.
Above them, the wind shifted.
Auren didn't look back at the estate.
Serai did.
She stared up at the tower—the one she'd been dragged through in chains.
Her jaw clenched.
And she walked.