~ Broken Forest, Silver's Shadow, 9846, Clader ~
The cell door slammed shut behind him.
Calder stumbled, chains biting into his wrists, and he barely managed to keep his balance before dropping back into a crouch against the wall. His wings shuddered as they tried to settle—folding and unfolding.
Adva looked up immediately. Her eyes widened when she saw him. "What did they do to you? Your face!"
"Nothing new," Calder muttered. He pressed his back to the wall, knees drawn up, wings curling in tight despite the ache. "Just confirmed what I already know."
Adva studied him for a moment longer, then shifted closer, lowering her voice. "You look like you're planning something."
Calder snorted quietly. "I always look like that."
But after a beat, he leaned in anyway.
"There are tunnels," he said under his breath. "Old ones. Under the dungeons."
Adva's expression sharpened immediately. "Sealed?"
"Maybe." He tilted his head. "But not completely. They use them for…things. Transport. Quiet stuff."
Her gaze flicked to the bars, then to the shadows beyond them. "Are you sure?"
Calder nodded. "I've seen part of the access door during work shifts. It's real."
He didn't say how he knew. He didn't say who told him. Just that he knew about it.
Adva exhaled slowly. "Okay," she murmured. "That might work. Except for one…little detail." Then she lifted her hands slightly, chains clinking softly. "These."
Calder grimaced. He lifted his own wrists; the enchanted metal was dull and cold, humming as it worked to suppress everything in his blood that wanted to move.
"Yeah," he said. "That's a problem."
They sat in silence for a moment.
"So you're serious about this," she said.
"Dead serious."
"And if we fail??"
Calder shrugged, forcing lightness into the motion. "Then we die faster than scheduled."
She let out a quiet, humorless laugh. "You really know how to sell a plan."
"Hey," he said, glancing at her, "you agreed."
Adva met his gaze. "I did," she nodded. "Because sitting here waiting isn't my idea of living."
Calder nodded back. "Good." He leaned his head back against the stone, eyes drifting to the ceiling as his wings stilled. "Next meal rotation," he began again. "Guard change is sloppier then."
Adva's mouth curved into something that might've been a smile. "Then we'd better be ready."
~
They waited. Time dragged in uneven pulls, measured by the drip of water somewhere beyond the walls and the distant rhythm of boots on stone. Calder kept his head bowed, wings tucked, despite the ache it sent through his shoulder. The chains were heavy, but familiar now. He had tested their weight and their reach. Memorized how far he could move without drawing attention.
Adva sat beside him, as still as a statue. Only her eyes moved, tracking shadows, counting steps. She breathed, slow and controlled. They were waiting for the world to turn just enough in their favor.
The next rotation came with the scrape of iron and a muttered complaint from one of the guards.
"Move," one of them said.
Calder rose without resistance. He stumbled on purpose, just enough to sell the image. The escort at the back cursed under his breath and stepped closer, chains clinking as he grabbed for Calder's arm.
They passed through the narrow stretch between corridors. It was a dead space. No torches, no eyes. Just stone and echo.
Now.
Calder twisted sharply, dropping his weight and yanking the chains up and back in one fluid motion. The links snapped tight around the guard's wrist and neck, momentum doing the rest. It was a rustling of feathers and wings flapping. The guard gasped, surprise overtaking training, and Calder drove his shoulder back hard, slamming the guard into the wall.
Metal rang. The guard collapsed, stunned, the chains biting where Calder locked them fast.
At the same moment, Adva moved. She surged forward, fast and silent, using the brief distraction. Her shackles were looser—she had worked at them longer. She slammed her bound fists into the front guard's knee, then wrenched the chain upwards around his neck as he fell. His shout was cut short as his head struck the stone.
Silence rushed in, loud and heavy. Calder froze, listening. His pulse thundered in his ears.
"No one," Adva whispered. "We're clear."
Calder nodded and crouched quickly, hands shaking just a little as he searched the fallen guard. Empty belt. Empty hands. No keys.
His jaw tightened. "They don't carry them," he muttered. "How did I forget…?"
Adva tilted her head toward the far end of the corridor, where iron bars cut across a shallow alcove in the wall. Behind them, a squat, rune-carved box, the same as before. Its surface, faintly glowing sigils crawled slowly as though it were alive.
"It's still enchanted," Adva scoffed quietly. "Everything here has enchantments."
"Maybe to make up for their lack of abilities?" Calder whispered.
Calder's wings twitched at the sight of it. The corridor was too narrow for his set, the ceiling too low. His wings brushed stone no matter how tightly he held them in.
"We don't have long," he said. "Rotations overlap in—" he stopped, listening, then finished quietly, "—minutes."
They dragged the guards further into the shadows, positioning them so they looked like part of the dark rather than bodies.
The pair moved carefully through the light. They reached the bars.
Up close, the rune box hummed. It was low, steady, but ancient. The runes flared as Calder approached, reacting to his presence. Or his wings.
"That thing knows what you are," Adva said under her breath.
"Yeah," Calder replied. "Story of my life."
The bars weren't enchanted, just solid iron, but they were spaced narrowly enough that neither of them could squeeze through, wings or not. Calder tested them anyway, grimacing as one of his wings snagged painfully.
"Don't," Adva hissed. "You'll tear something."
He pulled back, breath sharp. "I know."
Adva crouched and examined the lock on the bars, fingers tracing the mechanism. "Physical lock. Old design. The magic's in the box, not the cage."
Calder shifted. He didn't question how she knew, but took note of it. His chains clinked as he repositioned himself. He raised his wrists, testing the length.
"I can reach it," he said.
Adva glanced at his chains, then back at the box. "You sure?"
"No," he replied. "But it's this or execution."
He threaded one of his chained arms through the bars as far as they'd go. The metal bit into his wrists as he stretched further, wings flaring involuntarily before slamming back in with a muted thud. He clenched his teeth, focused past the discomfort, and his fingers brushed the box at last.
The runes flashed bright. Calder froze.
The hum deepened, resonating through his bones, through his wings. The box recognized him now. Rank One. Halfbreed. Something it wasn't meant to open itself for.
"Calder," Adva whispered urgently.
"I know," he breathed. "Just—give me a second."
He pressed his palm flat against the lid, ignoring the heat and the pain, the prickle of magic crawling up his arm.
"C'mon…open," he murmured.
The chains around him hummed, vibrating against his wrists like a warning. The runes etched into the metal flared to life, dull blue light crawling along each link as the enchantment pressed down on him, smothering the pull of the wind before it could fully form.
Calder sucked in a breath and pushed anyway.
The air around his hands stirred, subtle at first. The cloud of grey, trying to come to life. Dust lifted from the stone in a thin spiral. The runes on the box flickered in response, reacting to the change in current.
Pain lanced through his arms as the chains constricted him. He hissed through his teeth but didn't pull away.
A spark snapped into existence between his fingers. It was brief, sharp, and gone in an instant. The chains shrieked in protest.
"Calder," Adva said sharply, warning, edging her voice. "Be careful."
"I am being careful." His breath was shallow.
The wind faltered, stuttering under the weight of the suppression. Calder adjusted, not forcing this time. Instead, he was guiding, as his uncle taught him. Small movements. Controlled currents. Let the air slip where the chains weren't looking.
The box responded again, runes pulsing unevenly now.
Another spark flares, longer this time, licking along the edge of the lid before vanishing. The scent of scorched stone hung faintly in the air.
Adva's voice hardened. "You're fighting the chains. That's what they want. Don't exhaust yourself."
Calder swallowed, jaw tight. His wings quivered behind him, feathers trembling with every restrained surge of power.
"I just need…a crack," he muttered. "That's it."
The chains hummed louder, pressing down harder.
Calder leaned into the pain, focusing on the space around the box instead of the box itself. In the air trapped inside the seams, the breath waiting to be released.
The runes flickered. Once. Twice.
Calder kept at that.
The chains were screaming now, the hum rising into something jagged and furious, but he refused to let go. Sweat slicked his palms. His shoulders burned. His wings pressed against the wall. He kept his focus narrowed even more. Not the whole box, just one rune.
The air thinned, coiling along the etched lines like a living thing. Calder felt it hesitate, then slip, threading itself into the smallest fracture of power. His breath hitched as heat followed, an unwanted companion to the wind, a consequence of bloodlines that never stayed neatly apart.
A spark flared. It was longer this time. It stretched, sharp and bright, crawling across the rune in a jagged line. The stone cracked with a sound like ice. The rune split.
For half a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then the entire box shuddered. The remaining runes flared in confusion, light stuttering unevenly before collapsing in on themselves. The hum of enchantment died abruptly, like a breath cut short. The pressure in the air vanished.
Calder sucked in a ragged breath. He stumbled back, then forward, catching himself on his knees. His wings flared, snapping outward as far as the space allowed. He forced them back in with a sharp wince.
Adva stared at the box, then at him. "You—" She stopped herself. "You broke it."
Calder laughed weakly under his breath. "Take one ingredient out of the spell," he spoke hoarsely, "and it's not the same."
The box lay open now, inert. Keys lay inside, dull metal instead of glowing death.
Adva moved to the bars, shoving her arms through them. Her shoulder scraped stone as she stretched for the rune box. Her fingers brushed metal once, she missed, then again, knocking the keys with a soft clatter.
"Damn it—" she muttered under her breath.
Her wings twitched behind her, feathers rustling as she strained farther than it was comfortable. She sucked in a breath, reached again, and this time hooked the ring with the tips of her fingers. The keys made a scraping sound as she pulled them through the bars.
She exhaled hard when they finally landed in her palm.
Calder barely registered it at first.
The pain from the chains still sang through his arms, a deep, aching throb that made his hands shake. He stayed where he was, head bowed, wing half-spread and trembling, as he tried to force the air back into his lungs. Every breath felt scraped raw, like the enchantment had reached inside him and twisted.
Adva didn't waste time. She slid the key into her own shackles first. The lock clicked open with a sound so soft it felt unreal. The chain fell away from her wrist, clinking against the floor. Then the other.
She rubbed each of her wrists, testing the freedom, before turning to Calder.
"Hold still," she said quietly, already working the key into his restraints.
Calder flinched as the magic disengaged, a sharp, biting sensation racing up his arms as the runes went dark. The chains loosened, then dropped, heavy and lifeless.
He sucked in a breath that didn't hurt quite as much.
His wings sagged in relief as he exhaled. He flexed his fingers slowly, grounding himself in the feel of the cold stone beneath him.
Adva met his eyes for a brief second before she looked away and gathered the fallen chains.
"One step at a time," she murmured. "You still with me?"
Calder straightened, pain still ringing through him, but his jaw set all the same. "Yeah," he said. "Let's move."
Adva placed the chains in the dark.
As they moved, Calder felt his strength return first.
It crept back into Calder's limbs slowly, cautiously, like it wasn't sure it was welcome back yet. His hands stopped shaking. His shoulders steadied. He rolled his neck once, testing the weight of himself without the shackles, the familiar solidity of muscle and bone finally answering him again.
But his powers—they didn't come back slowly. They came back all at once. It wasn't gentle, in the slightest. It hit him like a flashbang.
The air surged. Every draft in the dungeon snapped toward him, invisible current crashing together in a sharp, disorienting rush. The torches lining the walls flared violently, flames stretching and snapping as if yanked by unseen hands, and Calder staggered, breath tearing from his chest as if it were the first time he'd ever drawn up the wind.
His wings reacted before his mind caught up.
All six of them flared wide, feathers bristling, scraping against stone and iron as they fought for space that didn't exist. The rush of power made them twitch and shudder, unfurling in a reflex that sent pain lacing through his back.
"Calder—!" Adva hissed, grabbing his arm, ducking out of the way of a face-full of feathers.
Another surge rippled through him. The nearest torch guttered, flame snapping sideways, a burst of sparks skittering across the floor. Calder clenched his fists, teeth grinding as he fought to pull it back.
It was too much, too fast.
It felt wrong, as though his own blood had forgotten how to listen to him.
Adva was steadier beside him. The dungeons offered her little. There was no open water, no living green. Just damp stone and stale air, whatever power stirred in her stayed muted, contained, unlike the chaos ripping through him.
"Breathe," she whispered to him.
Calder forced a breath in, then another.
He thought back to learning control. Focus on one small thing. The slow sway of the flame. The faint whisper of air that brushed his cheek. Narrow it down…down to just one thread.
The power that surged through him finally eased. The wind died back, and the flames settled back into their sconces.
Calder exhaled shakily, "I'm fine," he said, though his voice betrayed him.
Adva studied him for a moment, as if deciding whether or not to believe him.
"Are you sure?" She asked.
He huffed a humorless breath. "Of course I am."
Somewhere down the corridor, boots echoed.
Calder stiffened. He stood, turning toward the sound, wings instinctively drawing closer to his body. Adva looked as well, her posture sharpening, attention snapping forward.
Calder narrowed his eyes; the footsteps were too close.
Without warning, Calder reached out and pulled Adva sideways into the shadows. Stone scraped against his shoulder as he pressed them into a recessed break in the wall, and before she could speak, his wings swept forward.
Dusty grey feathers wrapped around them bother.
Six wings made it clumsy, but effective. They swallowed the torchlight, blending into the grime-darkened stone, muting their outlines until they were a little more than a distortion in the dark. Calder held his breath, forcing the air to pass by them.
The boots drew closer. A shadow crossed the edge of his wings.
Calder didn't move, and neither did Adva.
Then the sound passed, fading down the corridor.
Only then did Calder allow his wings to loosen, easing them back with care. His heart still thundered in his chest as he glanced down at her.
"We need to keep moving," he murmured.
Adva didn't disagree.
They moved carefully through the dungeon. They moved with measured steps, their senses sharp but thin. Calder kept his wings tight; he didn't need them scratching the walls as they moved. His eyes tracked shadows while his ears strained for the scrape of boots or the jangle of armor.
That was when he noticed Adva's wings.
They weren't as large as he had first thought. Sleep and close-set. They were made for precision rather than presence. When he had pulled her into the shadows, wrapped them both in his own, he'd barely felt them at all.
Efficient, he thought.
Dangerous.
The realization lingered as they walked, his mind filing it away without him quite knowing why.
Then the dungeon erupted. Shouts echoed down the corridors. Orders barked sharp and fast. The distant clang of gates and the pounding of boots bled together in a rising din.
Adva swore under her breath. "It was only a matter of time."
She broke into a run before he could respond.
Calder followed the next moment. The corridor narrowed, walls closing in, ceiling too low for wings to be anything but dead weight. They ran hard. Adva tried flapping her smaller wings to test the movement.
"Can't fly," she snapped, unnecessarily.
"I noticed," Calder shot back.
Guards flooded the passage behind them, armor clashing with voices loud and furious. Calder's pulse roared in his ears, the wind stirring again at his back, eager and reckless.
They tore past a line of torches.
Calder flicked his wrist.
The air snapped forward in a violent rush, tearing flame from its sconce and hurling it back down the corridor. Fire blood as it struck, a burst of heat and light and screaming.
The guards cried out as their hands flew to their scorched faces.
Calder couldn't help the grin that split his face, crooked yet alive in a way he hadn't felt since Glacial Grove.
"Remind me," Adva panted beside him, "never to get on your bad side."
"Too late," he said, breathless yet laughing as they ran.
They reached a door at the end of the narrow hall and spilled fully into the open. Calder's gaze went up instead of forward.
The land was the same, sky choked thick with rolling ash clouds that clotted out the suns, turning daylight into a dim, ashen twilight. The wind still carried flakes of grey down in steady sheets, harmless yet dense.
Calder felt the air. Heavy. Unstable.
Perfect.
He looked back once. Long enough to see the guards pouring from the doorway.
He spread his dusty grey wings. "Fly." He uttered.
Adva didn't argue.
They ran three more steps before Calder leapt. His wings snapped wide as far as the dead air would allow. Ash scattered violently around him as the wind surged up to meet him, lifting him hard and fast. His wings felt strained in this place. He was used to the cold wind, not the dead wind. The air up there was thin, not heavy. His muscles burned as they fought the unfamiliar environment.
Adva launched beside him, her smaller wings cutting cleaner through the clouded air.
The dead forest dropped away beneath them.
The ash clouds swallowed them almost immediately.