The holding cells were almost empty of guards, much to both of their surprise.
Ryn slowed as they reached the corridor, boots echoing faintly against the damp stone. The alarms outside had faded into distant noise, reduced to a dull hum that barely reached this far in.
Lanterns burned steadily along the walls.
No sign that anything had gone wrong.
"This doesn’t make sense," Fritz murmured.
Ryn didn’t answer.
He eased open the nearby door to what should have been a guard office, expecting empty desks—
—and nearly caught a blade to the throat.
Mira froze an inch from striking.
Ryn didn’t flinch.
Her eyes widened in recognition, relief flickering across her face before she pulled back.
"Sorry," she breathed.
Ryn shut the door behind him without a sound.
"Mira," he said quietly. "Why didn’t you—"
"I know," she cut in.
That stopped him.
She turned fully now, eyes steady.
"I couldn’t leave them here," she said. "Not like this."
Ryn frowned. "Who?"
Mira didn’t answer.
Instead, she raised a hand and made a small, deliberate gesture.
"Now," she said softly.
The room changed.
Shapes peeled away from the shadows.
From behind desks, window ledges, and the narrow spaces between shelves—Outside beastfolk erged one by one.
So crouched low, others stiff with pain, and a few gripping improvised weapons they hadn’t let go of even while hiding.
They moved carefully, like they’d practiced this already.
Fritz sucked in a quiet breath.
"...How many?" he whispered.
"Fifteen," Mira said. "Everyone they hadn’t finished with."
When they stepped into the light, Ryn could finally see the full details.
They were covered in wounds, and not just that...
Dark veins spiderwebbed beneath their skin, so pulsing faintly, while others burned black as if the blood itself had been scorched.
One beastman’s claws had cracked down the middle, the keratin split and regrown unevenly, warped as if sothing inside him kept forcing its way out. Another’s horns had been sawed short and cauterized, the flesh around the stumps raw.
Needle marks clustered along their necks, inner arms, and beneath the ribs, too precisely repeated to be anything but deliberate.
Ryn was willing to be anything that this wasn’t Bloodmanes’ doing, even for their standards, it was too...inhumane.
He clenched his fist. This was the Cult’s work.
Ryn exhaled slowly and looked back at Mira.
"So what’s the plan?" he asked. "Because there’s no version where you walk fifteen people out the front door."
Mira didn’t answer right away.
She glanced at the captives, at the way so swayed just standing still. Then she looked back at him.
"I know," she said quietly.
Fritz frowned. "Then why—"
"I just wanted to try," Mira cut in. Not defensive, just tired. "Once. At least sothing..."
Ryn studied her.
She wasn’t panicked or delusional. She knew exactly what the implications were, and knew that it was impossible from the start.
The sound ca before the thought finished forming.
Boots.
Ryn’s head lifted a fraction.
Keys chid softly beyond the door.
Mira felt it too. Her shoulders tightened, breath slowing as she turned her head slightly, listening.
"They’re back," Fritz murmured.
The captives reacted instantly, panicking as claws scraped against stone and knees buckling.
Ryn moved.
"Back," he said, low and absolute. "All of you. Now."
Mira turned toward him. "Ryn—"
"Cells," he repeated. "Act like nothing happened."
One of the beastfolk hesitated, eyes wide, veins pulsing dark beneath his skin.
"There’s no ti," Ryn said, already guiding the nearest one toward the corridor.
"If they see you out here...there’ll be no more chances."
That convinced them.
Chains rattled softly as they moved, bodies shifting quickly back to their cells.
However...they didn’t make it in ti.
The front door lock clicked as the doors opened.
Lanternlight spilled into the room.
Guards froze at the entrance, weapons lifting on instinct as their eyes swept the space.
Ryn slowed.
Mira felt it imdiately.
She followed his gaze, took in the guards, the way their attention flicked briefly to the captives behind them.
"...We can’t push through," Fritz murmured.
Mira stepped closer to Ryn, voice barely audible.
"Hit ."
Ryn turned.
"What?"
"Now," she whispered. "Before they start asking questions."
Ryn didn’t move.
For half a breath, the world narrowed to Mira’s eyes—steady and unflinching, already braced for what’s to co.
One of them snorted. "Well?"
This was the mont.
If he didn’t act now, they’d start asking questions. And the plan would fracture beyond repair.
Ryn swallowed.
Then he struck.
His fist drove into Mira’s stomach hard enough to spin her sideways. She cried out, the sound sharp in his ears, and slamd into the wall with a wet thud.
The guards stiffened, then relaxed.
"There it is," one muttered.
Ryn grabbed her by the collar and shoved her again, boot catching her leg as she collapsed to one knee.
"Move," he barked, voice harsh, stripped of warmth. "You had the guts to try sothing like this?"
Mira gasped, clutching at her stomach in pain. Fear, pain, and humiliation, all the emotions that would sell the act perfectly, flashed across her face.
Fritz didn’t move.
Couldn’t.
His hands clenched at his sides, knuckles whitening as he stared at the scene unfolding in front of him. Every instinct scread at him to intervene.
To do sothing.
But he didn’t.
Ryn struck again.
Just enough to make it convincing, to make it ugly.
Mira cried out as she was hauled up and slamd back into the wall, breath knocked from her lungs. Her knees buckled. Ryn let her fall this ti.
One of the guards laughed softly. "Figures."
"Always like this," another said. "You don’t keep them in line, they get ideas."
Ryn stood over her, chest rising steadily, expression cold.
"Happy?" he snapped.
"Yeah," the first guard said lazily. "That’ll do."
Ryn stepped back imdiately, as if she’d lost all value the mont permission was granted.
Mira lay still, trembling.
The guards turned their attention to the other captives before yelling.
"Scram! Back to your cells, all of you," one shouted. "And don’t get any funny ideas—or you’ll end up like her."
The captives obeyed imdiately.
Chains rattled as they retreated, bodies darting back into the cells they’d just left. No one looked at Mira as they passed her, not out of indifference, but understanding.
The guards watched until the doors shut again.
Then they relaxed.
One adjusted his helt. The other rolled his shoulders, already bored.
"Not bad," one said. "Keep this block quiet for us, will you?"
Ryn forced a nod.
The two senior guards turned away, already done with it.
But the lesser guards hadn’t looked away.
They stood frozen where they were, hands slack at their sides, eyes fixed on Mira’s crumpled form. One of them swallowed hard. Another shifted his weight, face pale beneath the lantern’s glow.
No one comnted.
For a mont, it was quiet enough that Mira’s breathing could be heard.
"...Get her up," one of the smaller guards said finally. His voice was tight. "She can’t stay here."
The others hesitated—then moved.
Carefully.
Two of them knelt beside Mira. They lifted her under the arms, keeping her feet from dragging against the stone.
She winced but didn’t cry out.
Ryn didn’t move.
He couldn’t help her now. Not without tearing the lie open.
They escorted Mira down the corridor toward the cells until they disappeared into the shadows.
The block returned to its routine.
Ryn turned away first.
He walked back toward the guard office, posture already settling into sothing neutral, yet empty. Fritz followed a beat later, slower, like his body hadn’t caught up with his mind yet.
The door closed behind them.
Inside, the office was unchanged.
Ryn leaned a hand against the desk, staring at the shelves that were slightly moved.
Fritz sat down hard on a crate, elbows on his knees, head bowed.
Neither of them spoke.
Finally, Ryn looked at his hands, still lingering with the faint tallic sll from her blood.
He’d seen blood countless tis, too many to count, lost to the Evernight or other conflicts.
But that didn’t an it stopped hurting...
Every.
Single.
Ti.
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