A siren screamed.
No warmth.
No mercy.
Just a signal.
The next step in their capture.
Heavy boots echoed in the hall.
The door slid open without ceremony.
Guards entered.
Tall. Mechanical in posture.
Faces hidden behind iron masks.
They gestured.
— "[Out. Now.]"
Anor'ven and Asveri moved.
Not because they were ordered.
But because resistance felt pointless.
The march through metal halls began.
Steam whispered from pipes.
Lights flickered above, humming softly.
The world felt distant.
Asveri tried.
He spoke up. Voice tense, but polite.
— "Hey, this is a mistake. We're not criminals."
No reaction.
He repeated.
— "We shouldn't be here. Can't you understand?"
Still nothing.
The guards spoke among themselves.
Rough syllables.
Foreign tones.
Laughter followed.
One shoved Asveri forward.
Not hard.
But enough to make the message clear.
Not their language. Not their concern.
Asveri clenched his teeth.
Another guard caught him by the shoulder.
Spun him slightly.
The grip tightened. Too much.
— "Tch— let go!"
He struggled.
That was enough.
The guard pushed him down.
Rough.
Indifferent.
Anor'ven stepped forward.
No words.
No rush.
He stood still, between Asveri and the guard.
His eyes locked on the man.
The hall grew quieter.
Even without understanding, something passed.
The guard hesitated.
Then clicked his tongue and let go.
They moved on.
Asveri stood, dusting himself off.
— "…Thanks."
Anor'ven said nothing.
His gaze remained fixed ahead.
Work followed.
Long hours.
Metal and sweat.
Machines demanded effort.
Guards demanded silence.
By the time the lights dimmed again, exhaustion clung to them both.
Dinner came.
If it could be called that.
They sat with others.
Rust-colored trays held thick paste and dry bread.
Asveri groaned slightly.
— "I don't even know what this is."
Anor'ven tasted.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
He paused.
Chewed.
Swallowed.
His eyes shifted slightly.
A tiny change.
— "Taste."
Asveri looked at him.
— "What?"
Anor'ven took another bite.
— "It has taste."
Asveri frowned.
— "Yeah. That's usually how food works."
Anor'ven ignored the joke.
Instead, he kept eating.
Slow. Steady.
Asveri watched, amused and confused.
— "Is this… your first time enjoying food in forever or something?"
Anor'ven did not answer.
But his pace remained.
For once, he did not seem empty.
Minutes passed.
The hall was loud.
But between them, quiet settled again.
Asveri leaned forward.
— "Why are we even here?"
No answer.
— "Seriously. We fell through time or something, right? That flash, when we touched hands… It has to mean something."
Still nothing from Anor'ven.
Asveri sighed.
He looked at his own palm.
Fingers curling slowly.
— "Maybe if we—"
His words stopped.
Their hands brushed.
Brief.
Barely intentional.
The world shifted.
Not visibly.
Not loud.
But inside.
A pull.
A rush.
A thousand moments flickered.
Laughter. Screams.
Lights above unfamiliar skies.
Dust choking forgotten lands.
Then — silence.
Asveri gasped.
Pulled his hand back.
— "…What was that?"
Anor'ven looked at him, unmoved.
— "Connection."
Asveri shook his head, still processing.
— "No, it's… more than that. I felt— I saw—"
Anor'ven interrupted softly.
— "It does not matter now."
Asveri slumped slightly.
Frustrated.
But without strength to argue.
He poked at his food again.
— "Still… this whole place. These people. This era. Why us?"
Silence.
Anor'ven's eyes lowered, briefly.
— "Why anything?"
Before Asveri could speak again — something blocked the light.
A shadow loomed.
Heavy footsteps.
Slow.
A man stood beside their table.
Thick arms.
Crooked grin.
Eyes sharp with ugly amusement.
His voice was low, mocking.
— "New faces."
Asveri tensed.
The other prisoners nearby pretended not to notice.
The man grinned wider.
— "You look soft.
Both of you."
No one answered.
He leaned closer.
— "What's the matter? Lost your tongues?"
His eyes stayed on Asveri longer.
Measuring.
Calculating.
A predator's stare.
Asveri shifted slightly.
Anor'ven did not move.
The man laughed.
— "This ain't your village, little boy."
He reached for Asveri's tray.
That simple, casual gesture.
Not rushed.
Not violent.
But full of ownership.
The man reached for Asveri's tray.
Casual.
Like taking what was his.
Asveri did not react.
Not outwardly.
But inside — the whispers returned.
He reached.
Not to fight.
To understand.
One mind.
Clear.
Intent: humiliate.
Desire: crush.
Expectation: submission.
He knew.
And yet — it did not matter.
Intent means little without power.
The man grew impatient.
He spoke. Words harsh, foreign.
Asveri did not understand them.
But he felt them.
Mockery. Ownership. Threat.
Without warning, the man's hand shot forward.
Rough fingers wrapped around Asveri's neck.
He lifted him easily.
Asveri's legs kicked in the air.
Choking.
Eyes wide.
The man grinned.
Words spilled from his lips.
Meaningless.
But his face said enough.
"Break. Silence. Beg."
Anor'ven stood.
Slow.
No rush.
No expression.
He approached.
No one stopped him.
The man did not fear him.
Until Anor'ven grabbed his wrist.
There was no style.
No technique.
Only raw grip.
Muscles, hardened through endless time.
Bones, reinforced by eternity.
He squeezed.
Pushed.
The man's arm bent down, forced by impossible strength.
— "Agh—!"
He dropped Asveri.
The boy fell, gasping, clutching his throat.
The hall grew quiet.
The man stepped back, shaking his arm.
Pain twisted his face.
His pride burned hotter.
He roared.
And charged.
Fists flew.
He slammed into Anor'ven's chest.
Hard.
Enough to stagger most men.
Anor'ven did not move.
He struck back.
A simple punch.
No anger.
No hate.
Just motion.
The man recoiled, blood on his lip.
They clashed again.
Brutal.
Crude.
No elegance.
Only survival.
Anor'ven took hits.
It did not matter.
Skin tore.
Bones cracked.
They reformed as quickly.
But none saw it.
The fight was fast.
Dirty.
Ugly.
Asveri watched, wide-eyed.
For the first time, Anor'ven looked alive.
Not emotional.
Not wild.
Just… present.
The man grew desperate.
Fear mixed with rage.
He drove his shoulder forward.
Anor'ven stepped aside.
Grabbed his head.
Forced him down.
The man fell to his knees.
Breathing heavy.
Broken in pride more than body.
Before he could rise again —
Guards arrived.
Shouting.
Barking commands.
Electro-staffs crackled to life.
They stormed in.
One slammed the butt of his weapon against the large man's ribs.
Another struck Anor'ven across the back.
Neither resisted.
It did not matter.
They were dragged apart.
The crowd scattered.
Order returned.
Cold.
Unfeeling.
Asveri, still catching his breath, was pulled away too.
His eyes met Anor'ven's briefly across the hall.
Anor'ven said nothing.
They were separated.
Dragged through iron hallways.
No explanations.
No sympathy.
Asveri was pushed into the cell first.
He stumbled, rubbing his neck.
His breathing still uneven.
The door slid shut behind him.
Anor'ven followed seconds later.
Unharmed.
Expression blank.
Neither spoke at first.
The hum of the walls filled the space.
Pipes whispered softly above.
Somewhere, far off, metal groaned.
Asveri sat down slowly.
His hands trembled faintly.
— "They didn't even listen…"
No response.
— "Not a word. Not even curious about us."
Anor'ven sat too.
Not close.
Not far.
Asveri stared ahead, eyes dull.
Minutes passed before he spoke again.
— "Back there… you didn't have to step in."
Anor'ven's gaze remained steady.
— "He touched your throat."
Asveri waited.
Nothing followed.
He pressed on, voice quieter.
— "So? That's enough to make you move?"
Anor'ven leaned back slightly.
— "I dislike interruptions."
Asveri frowned.
Not satisfied.
He spoke again after a moment, words softer, uncertain.
— "You care more than you show, don't you?"
Anor'ven did not answer.
The silence stretched.
Long.
Heavy.
Asveri looked down at his own hands.
His fingers brushed over the faint marks left by the man's grip.
He winced.
Then stopped.
Slowly, hesitantly, he lifted his hand and extended it slightly toward Anor'ven.
Not fully.
Not offering.
Just near.
Anor'ven's eyes lowered.
He watched.
Unmoving.
Asveri held the position for a few seconds, then let it fall back.
— "Forget it."
Anor'ven closed his eyes.
No more words passed.
The night shift began.
Lights dimmed.
Machinery elsewhere kept humming.
Both sat there.
Breathing.
Waiting.
Nothing more.