After the split, Reiner went to slash through the corrupted meat, while Rivaan focused on fulfilling the promise he made to the girl.
The manor's lower halls twisted like a dark labyrinth.
Rivaan moved carefully, his boots echoing softly against the cold stone floor. Every corridor looked the same — cracked walls, silence heavy in the air.
He muttered under his breath,
"This can't be right… I've been here before."
For a moment, doubt crept in. Was he lost?
Then, his glove pulsed — a subtle hum followed by a faint glow from the relic embedded within.
The compass. It moved.
It hadn't worked in weeks, but now the needle shifted — pointing with sudden certainty down the left passage.
Rivaan narrowed his eyes.
"Guess that's the way, then."
After several turns and descending steps, he found it — a large door, rusted by time and soot.
He opened it slowly.
Inside, the room was dim and thick with silence. Steel cages lined the walls, filled with people — bruised, pale, broken.
As Rivaan approached the bars, the prisoners backed away at the sight of him.
"He's one of them!" hissed Saman.
"Please don't kill us," begged another.
Rivaan said firmly,
"I'm here to save you all. To get you out."
They didn't believe him.
Then, a soft, hoarse voice came from the back.
Mira's mother stepped forward, squinting at him through the gloom.
"You… you were with the sword boy this morning, at my bar."
The air shifted. Whispers spread.
Rivaan said,
"I'm here to take you all out."
He stepped closer to the bars, checking locks, searching for keys. Nothing.
He gripped the thick iron bars. Cold. Solid.
A man behind him chuckled dryly.
"You won't. We've tried. That thing's made to hold monsters."
But Rivaan didn't stop.
He pulled.
Then — SNAP.
The bars cracked and bent open with a metallic groan.
Everyone stared.
One prisoner stepped forward, speechless.
"How did you…?"
Rivaan looked at his hands, just as surprised.
"I… don't know," he said at last. "It just happened."
One by one, the prisoners emerged.
Rivaan was about to lead them out when something caught his eye.
In the far corner, a girl sat alone, separated from the others. Shackled to the wall, her head rested against the cold stone. Messy hair, bruised face — around the same age as Rivaan.
She wasn't moving.
Rivaan rushed to her side.
"Hey," he said gently, kneeling down.
Prisoners behind him shouted,
"Don't touch her!"
"She's cursed!"
"She's got strange eyes — one gold like the sun, the other purple like a bruise."
Rivaan looked closely. She was breathing. Her face was peaceful, even in the dark.
One prisoner insisted,
"Just leave her… she's cursed."
Rivaan said softly,
"If we start leaving people behind just because they're different, then we've lost everything that makes us human."
Silence fell.
He lifted her onto his back.
No one stopped him.
They climbed back through the manor hall. The path was clear, the relic compass still guiding their way.
Outside, Mira and the other villagers waited, eyes wide with hope.
And then —
"Mama…"