The corridor twisted deeper into darkness, torchlight flickering across damp stone. The children shuffled after Kairo, nerves taut, hearts pounding in unison.
Then a faint groan echoed from a side passage.
Kairo's crimson eyes narrowed. He signaled for the children to halt. "Quiet. Stay back."
They crept forward. There, bound to a crude wooden post, was the man who had cared for them all—their guardian. Bruises streaked his face, ribs bruised, clothing torn. Blood matted his hair. He stirred weakly as they approached.
The children gasped. "He… he's alive!" whispered Selaih.
Kairo knelt beside him, assessing quickly. The ropes were crude but tight. His hands moved subtly, bones in his fingers twisting just enough to weaken the knots without alerting any nearby guards.
Igron's smirk appeared from the shadows. "You weren't going to leave him, were you?"
Kairo didn't answer. His focus was precise. With a final snap of his fingers, the ropes loosened. The man slumped forward but caught himself. Crimson eyes scanned the corridor. "I'm… fine," he rasped, though the children could see the pain etched across his face.
"Come on," Kairo whispered, helping him to his feet. "We move quietly. No one attacks us again."
The children pressed close, some brushing against Kairo's sides as he subtly adjusted their bone lengths so that tired muscles and bruises didn't slow them down.
The man's voice was hoarse, yet steady. "You've… grown." He glanced at Kairo, and though the boy's face betrayed nothing, a faint flicker of pride passed across the man's bruised features.
Behind them, faint footsteps echoed, but the children didn't panic. Kairo's crimson eyes scanned every shadow. Every guard who dared to rise would find their knees bending, bones yielding under the precision of his power.
With the man rescued, the group pressed onward, shadows among shadows. Freedom was still distant, but they had regained their anchor—and the first real hope in hours of fear.