The first rays of sunlight barely touched the rooftops when Keon awoke to the sound of soft rustling outside. Still groggy, he rubbed his eyes and crept toward the edge of the hayloft, peering through a gap in the wooden planks without descending. Down below, a man was walking past — a villager, carrying a bundle of firewood. Nothing unusual. But enough to set his nerves on edge.
"Ellian. Tamir. Wake up," he whispered urgently, nudging both of them.
The other two stirred slowly, blinking sleep from their eyes. Within a minute, all three were sitting up, the early morning chill still clinging to their skin.
"I've got a plan," Tamir said, voice low but steady. "We don't know the other girls. We'll just grab Linnea and Astel, then tell the guards the rest are still inside. That's how we get out of this village."
Keon hesitated. His brows knit together. "We'd be leaving them behind."
"We don't have a real plan otherwise," Tamir added. "This might be our only chance."
Keon didn't look convinced, but after a long pause, he finally nodded. "Fine. Let's do it."
Ellian agreed with a single glance, silent but determined.
They packed up quickly, tying their supplies into bundles and hauling them to the southern gate. There, they hid everything behind old crates and dry barrels near a storehouse — a place they could easily reach when it was time to run. No distractions, no weight to slow them down.
Then, without wasting another minute, they slipped back through the quiet streets toward the house.
The house where it all began.
They crouched in the shadows of an old fence, just out of sight. All six men were still inside. Waiting became a test of will. The hours dragged. Keon shifted restlessly. Tamir kept glancing at the sky. Ellian didn't move.
Finally — just after noon — five of them stepped outside and walked off down the road.
One stayed behind.
"This is it," Ellian whispered. "We can't waste this moment."
"There's still one in the house," Keon muttered.
Ellian shook his head. "They won't be back soon. I'm sure of it. We knock the last one out. Fast."
Tamir frowned. "He's way stronger than any of us. That's obvious."
"I don't care," Ellian said. "We won't get another opening like this."
Keon took a shaky breath. "We won't. This is our only shot."
Tamir raised an eyebrow. "How would you know?"
"Last night… I heard them talking. They said they'd finished what they came for. That they were ready to leave the village."
Ellian looked at Tamir.
Tamir nodded.
They moved.
The plan was clear. Tamir would knock on the door and bait the man outside with a fake job offer. While he was distracted, Ellian would sneak behind him and strike. Meanwhile, Keon would climb in through the window and get Linnea and Astel out one by one.
"...And if Ellian and I fail?" Tamir asked quietly as they got into position.
"We won't," Ellian said calmly. "I don't know why, but I feel sure of it."
They nodded. Heartbeats pounding.
Tamir stepped up and knocked on the door.
It opened — a tall, bald man standing in the frame.
At that exact moment, Keon darted to the side of the house and began climbing through the window, heart racing, sweat dripping down his face. He dropped inside quietly, eyes darting. Linnea and Astel were asleep on the floor.
He grabbed Astel first, lifting her carefully and slipping out through the back without making a sound. He laid her down just beyond the gate, then sprinted back inside.
Meanwhile, Tamir was talking to the man at the door.
"What do you want?" the man grunted.
"I'm looking for someone to help us move something... through the gates," Tamir said smoothly. "We'd pay. A lot. More than you think."
The man raised an eyebrow. "And what kind of job is this?"
"Something not everyone can handle," Tamir replied, leaning in. "That's why we came to you."
The man narrowed his eyes. "Why me?"
Tamir leaned closer and whispered, "It's about moving those herbs. The ones people aren't supposed to move."
That got his attention.
"And how much are you offering?"
Tamir opened his mouth to respond — but just then, something crashed inside the house.
A clay jar.
Keon had knocked it over while trying to pull Linnea from the bed. His hands were shaking so badly he nearly dropped her.
The man turned his head, confused. "What the hell—?"
He glanced back at Tamir. "What's going on here, you little—"
Tamir just smiled. "I'll pay you," he said. "In the head."
Before the man could react, Ellian struck from behind, slamming a heavy club into his skull. The crack was sickening. The man collapsed instantly, limp and silent.
Ellian checked his pulse. Still breathing, but definitely out cold.
They rushed inside. Keon was still dragging Linnea, pale and trembling.
Together, the three of them carried both girls out through the back, one in each set of arms.
They ran — fast, silent, desperate.
Keon had Linnea over his shoulder, Ellian carried Astel, and Tamir followed close behind, glancing back every few seconds.
"Don't stop!" Tamir shouted.
They ran. Through the tall grass and dirt roads, limbs burning and lungs screaming, but they didn't stop. With Linnea and Astel on their shoulders, they pushed forward under the glare of the late afternoon sun.
The southern gate rose in the distance — two guards standing on either side, spears crossed lazily until they noticed the approaching group.
"Halt!" one shouted. "What's going on?!"
Tamir stepped forward, barely catching his breath. "These girls were being held captive," he said quickly. "We got them out. The ones who did it — they're still in the house on Sevrin Street. One's unconscious. The others will return soon. They need to be stopped."
The guards exchanged a quick glance. One stepped closer, inspecting the bruised girls slung over Keon's and Ellian's backs. His expression changed.
"Follow us," he said. "Now."
They were led past the gate and down a small road toward the edge of the village, where an old, vine-covered house stood surrounded by still-growing bushes and a few scattered chickens. A modest place, but cleaner and quieter than most.
The guards opened the door without knocking. Inside, the air smelled like tea leaves and fresh wood. An elderly man looked up from a table. His back was straight, but his face was worn. He didn't speak — just gave a small nod as the guards gestured for the boys to sit.
"You'll explain everything," one of the guards said.
And they did.
Tamir started. Keon added details. Ellian stayed quiet for most of it, but his presence was steady. They told the entire story — from the strange house, to the missing girls, to the plan and the escape.
The old man, clearly the village elder, listened with a calm, unreadable face. When it was done, he looked to the guards and gave a short command. They nodded and left the room, likely heading straight back to the house.
The boys were allowed to rest. For the first time in hours, they could breathe.
Keon slumped against the wall, eyes half-closed. Tamir rubbed the side of his face, where a bruise was already forming. Ellian sat still, arms folded, not blinking.
Tea was brought. Soft food. Clean water.
They didn't talk much.
By sunset, the guards returned.
"We got five of them," one said grimly. "They came back in pairs. We waited. Surrounded them quietly. Four gave up. One tried to fight. He won't again."
The elder raised an eyebrow. "All of them?"
"...All but one," the guard admitted. "The bald one. Slipped away before we moved in. Gone."
The elder frowned for the first time.
"Keep the search quiet," he said softly. "And alert the next village east. He'll likely head there."
The guard nodded and left again.
That night, the boys were allowed to stay in the elder's home. They were given mats, thick blankets, a warm meal, and space to sleep.
No one needed more.
Ellian fell asleep instantly.
So did Keon, right after whispering a thank-you to no one in particular.
Tamir lay awake for a while, staring at the ceiling. But even he couldn't fight the weight of exhaustion.
The elder watched them as they slept. His hands folded neatly on the table in front of him. His tea untouched. His eyes tired but thoughtful.
"Brave children," he murmured to himself. "Too brave for their age."
---
Dawn.
The first who woke was Keon. He stretched with a quiet grunt, sat up, and glanced around.
Ellian was still curled up, blanket barely covering him.
Tamir snored lightly beside a half-spilled teacup.
But Linnea and Astel weren't in the room.
Keon stood, walked softly to the back of the house — and found them sitting near the small water basin outside. Their faces were clean. Linnea was drying her hair. Astel had wrapped a scarf around her bruised neck, but her arms still showed the purple marks.
Keon didn't say anything. Just gave a small wave.
Astel noticed him and gave a tired but soft smile.
When he returned, he gently woke the others. Ellian sat up with a quiet grunt, rubbing his face. Tamir blinked awake with a groan.
After they washed up and packed what little they had, they returned to the elder and bowed politely.
"Thank you," Tamir said.
"We're going back home," Keon added. "We've caused enough trouble."
The elder stood. "You didn't cause it. You ended it. Take care of those girls. You have brave hearts."
They nodded.
At the edge of the village, a merchant offered them a ride — an old man with a kind face and a heavy cart filled with crates of fabric and spices. The six of them squeezed in around the goods, the girls resting against the sides, half-asleep again.
By noon, the hills of their home village came into view.
The cart rolled in slowly.
One by one, they climbed down.
"I say we don't mention it," Keon said suddenly. "The elder here doesn't need to hear every detail. We fixed it. No reason to stir up more problems."
"Agreed," Tamir said with a short nod. "I'll talk to him. I'll keep it simple."
They split up.
Keon walked straight home, nodded to the neighbors he passed, answered a few quiet greetings — and went straight to bed. No explanation. No story. Just sleep.
Tamir, on the other hand, went to the village elder's house. He knocked, smiled as he entered, and said they had helped a merchant along the road with a delivery that took longer than expected. Said Linnea and Astel had taken a fall, nothing serious. Nothing to worry about. He handed over the bag of herbs as if that had always been the plan.
Then he, too, went home and collapsed into bed.
Astel and Linnea were taken in by their older sisters' neighbors — kind women who immediately set to treating their bruises, applying salves, whispering comfort, boiling water.
They didn't ask questions.
No one did.
Except Ellian.
He wandered.
Through the narrow streets and dusty corners of the village, past the old fence where he first woke, past the garden where children played.
People looked at him with uncertainty. They didn't say anything. Just watched.
Same clothes. Same scarf. But clean now. Softened. The dirt washed away.
But they still didn't understand him.
He passed the market.
Passed the stables.
And stopped at the old central well — the heart of the village.
There, sitting quietly on the edge of the stone, was a girl.
She was about his age. Dark hair. Bare feet swinging lightly. She was staring down into the water, unmoving.
Ellian froze.
Something about the way she sat — still and distant — made him pause mid-step.
Then, just as quickly, a voice called out from down the path.
"Rielle! Come help your mother!"
The girl turned. Her face showed nothing — not surprise, not fear, not even interest.
She stood and walked away without looking at him once.
Ellian stepped forward, moved to where she'd been, and peered down into the well.
Only ripples.
Reflected sky.
Faint glints of light on deep water.
He kept staring, long after the girl was gone.
And then — without saying a word — he turned and walked away.