The alley stank of rust and damp stone, as though the walls themselves were weeping. Jyoti's back pressed against the wall, her lungs dragging in air that scraped like sandpaper. Beside her, the breathless boy clung to her arm, ribs fluttering like the wings of a trapped bird.
Then—another hand seized her wrist. Firm. Unyielding.
"Quiet..."
The word dropped like a stone into still water. Jyoti's pulse faltered, panic sharpening her edges. For a moment, she imagined a brute dragging her into the dark. Her fist twitched, ready to swing. Then the shadows stirred, and the face that surfaced was not carved from fear.
"Ma-maya…?"
The old woman's eyes gleamed, dark coals that had seen too many winters. "Yes. And if you keep hurling yourself headfirst into storms, child, don't expect to see another sunrise."
Jyoti frowned, though her shoulders softened with relief. "What was I supposed to do? Bake them cookies while they stomped that kid flat? He's half my size."
Maya's gaze flicked to the boy, still trembling but upright, then back to Jyoti. "Every action leaves an imprint. A thread that does not wash away. Do you think the Ash-Binders are blind? That whispers don't crawl through these alleys like rats? Your recklessness isn't just your burden—it is a threat, a threat to the ones you adore."
The words sank deep, stinging worse than bruises. Jyoti chewed her lip but what she said was evident.
Without another word, Maya tugged them down a labyrinth of alleys. They slipped through a narrow gap veiled by dangling sheets, their edges fluttering like tired wings. On the other side, the air shifted—softer, tinged with broth and candle smoke.
Eyes blinked at them from the dark. Children, thin as candle wicks, cheeks hollow, yet lit by some fragile thread of hope. When Maya entered, they straightened as though the earth itself had stepped in. When their gazes found Jyoti, curiosity sparked—then recognition.
"Food," Maya said simply.
With a reluctant flourish, Jyoti dropped her satchel. Boxes and packets spilled out like treasure pried from a dungeon. The children surged forward—not as wolves, but as rivers, flowing with careful grace. Each hand reached, not clawing but sharing. Laughter rose—brittle yet bright, like glass chimes catching the faintest breeze.
A boy with hair like a nest of wild curls hugged a packet to his chest. "jyoti," he whispered, grinning. "You brought us a feast."
Another girl, her eyes too wide for her face, nodded with fierce conviction, crumbs already dusting her lips. "Best feast ever!."
Jyoti blinked, caught between choking and laughing."Careful. If you lot keep looking at me like that, I'll start charging rent."
The children giggled, scattering crumbs as they laughed. One even raised his crust like a toast. Jyoti smiled, though Maya's eyes still pressed like a weight at the back of her thoughts.
"They look to you," Maya said. Calm words, heavy as stones. "That is why your choices matter."
Heat flushed Jyoti's cheeks. She masked it with a grin. "Don't paint me in gold, old crow. I just didn't want to babysit their hungry bellies. Sharing's cheaper than therapy."
More laughter bubbled, thin but real, bouncing off the walls like sparks in a cave. For a moment, the Pits didn't feel like a grave. They felt like a crooked kind of home.
"Remember this," Maya murmured, her voice rippling in the air. "Every shadow you step into leaves a thread behind. One day, someone will follow it."
Jyoti looked at her hands—still shaking, still scarred, still humming with the echo of the chase. She flexed her fingers and muttered, half to Maya, half to herself, "Then I'll just learn to cut the threads."
Maya's stern mask softened, like clouds thinning for a glimpse of the moon. "Or learn where they lead."
The room hushed. The children ate, their voices weaving together into a fragile choir. For the first time that day, Jyoti didn't feel hunted. She felt tethered—to the laughter, to the thin arms calling her name, to the old woman whose warnings held something gentler, too.
Here, in the hidden heart of the Pits, shadows did not only conceal. They bound.