Kael woke screaming.

  The sound tore out of his throat before he could stop it — raw, hoarse, half-formed — and his body jerked hard enough that iron bit into his wrists.

  Pain exploded.

  Not fresh pain.

  Remembered pain.

  His muscles locked, breath ripping in shallow bursts as the world slammed back into him: stone beneath his back, iron bars inches from his face, damp air thick with rot and old blood.

  “Kael—Kael, stop, it’s okay, it’s okay—”

  Hands grabbed the bars near his head.

  Denzel.

  Kael’s vision swam. Torchlight smeared into streaks. His chest felt too tight, like something heavy was still pressing him down.

  He dragged in air through clenched teeth.

  Once.

  Twice.

  The screaming stopped — replaced by shaking.

  “I’m here,” Denzel said again, voice cracking now. “You’re here. You’re alive. You’re not back there.”

  Kael squeezed his eyes shut.

  The whip cracked again in his mind.

  The jolt through his spine.

  The way his own body had sagged when his strength gave out.

  His stomach lurched.

  He rolled onto his side and retched dryly against the stone.

  Nothing came up.

  His body trembled anyway.

  Denzel didn’t pull away.

  He crouched in front of the bars, eyes wide and frantic, like he’d been waiting for this moment and dreading it at the same time.

  “They dragged you back like that,” Denzel said quietly. “Just… tossed you in. You weren’t moving. I thought—”

  His voice broke.

  “I thought you were dead.”

  Kael swallowed hard.

  “I’m not,” he rasped.

  The words felt unreal in his mouth.

  He forced himself to look around.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  The dungeon stretched out on both sides — iron cages bolted into stone, each holding a child-shaped shadow. Too many of them. Twenty, maybe more. Some pressed close to the bars now, eyes reflecting torchlight. Others stayed curled in the back, pretending not to listen.

  Riven.

  Kael’s breath hitched.

  Riven lay two cages down, sprawled awkwardly on the floor, dried blood streaked through his hair and down his temple. His chest rose.

  Slowly.

  Kael stared.

  “He—” Kael croaked. His throat seized. “He looks—”

  “Alive,” Denzel said quickly. “Barely. He hasn’t woken up yet.”

  Kael closed his eyes for a second longer than necessary.

  “When they took you,” Denzel continued, words tumbling now that he’d started, “he lost it. Completely. Screaming your name. Slamming himself into the bars. I thought he was going to kill himself.”

  Kael’s hands curled against the stone.

  “And then…” Denzel shook his head. “Something happened. The air changed. Pressure. Like the dungeon was breathing wrong.”

  Kael opened his eyes again.

  “You didn’t see it,” Denzel said. “But I did. His mark—Kael, it glowed. Just for a second. And then he collapsed.”

  Kael’s pulse thudded in his ears.

  “Awakened,” Denzel whispered. “Riven awakened.”

  A murmur rippled through the cages.

  Someone whimpered.

  Someone else cursed under their breath.

  Kael stared at Riven’s still form, chest tight with something sharp and twisting.

  “And him,” Denzel added, nodding down the line. “Christ.”

  Kael followed his gaze.

  The boy sat upright in his cage, arms resting loosely on his knees. Dark hair. Green eyes. Calm in a way that didn’t belong here.

  Christ noticed Kael looking.

  For a moment, they just stared at each other — two strangers linked by circumstance and blood and pressure.

  Then Christ spoke.

  “You’re the one they took,” he said softly. “I wondered if you’d wake up.”

  Kael swallowed. “You know my name.”

  “Denzel says it a lot,” Christ replied. “Usually when he thinks you can’t hear.”

  Denzel snorted weakly. “I wasn’t subtle.”

  Christ shifted closer to the bars.

  “I’m Christ,” he said. “Tier Six. Or I was.”

  Kael nodded once. “Kael.”

  Christ hesitated, then added, almost awkwardly, “I… something changed. After Riven.”

  Kael waited.

  Christ frowned slightly, searching for words. “I don’t know how to explain it. But I feel… stronger. Like there’s something moving inside me now. In the air too. When I focus, it listens.”

  He flexed his fingers.

  “I think,” he said slowly, “that if I concentrate, I can make people… not notice me. Or things I touch. It’s not perfect. It’s like—” He grimaced. “Like finding a limb you didn’t know you had. I don’t know how to move it yet.”

  A few of the other kids leaned closer.

  Hope flickered — thin and dangerous.

  Kael dragged a hand over his face.

  “And the crying?” he asked quietly. “Before?”

  Denzel shuddered. “Another kid. Broke down. Pressure gathered again. That’s when Christ—” He gestured helplessly. “That’s when it happened again.”

  Two awakenings.

  In one dungeon.

  Kael exhaled slowly.

  “That’s why I’m still alive,” he said.

  Denzel frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “They healed me,” Kael said. “I shouldn’t be able to move like this otherwise.”

  Murmurs spread instantly.

  “Healer?”

  “Awakened healer?”

  “They have one down here?”

  “Yes,” Kael said, louder now. “They have to. They’re not trying to kill us.”

  The dungeon went very still.

  “They’re selling us,” Kael continued. “In two days.”

  The words landed like a dropped stone.

  Someone sobbed.

  Someone screamed, a thin, panicked sound that echoed too long off the walls.

  “No—no, that’s a lie—” “My sister—” “They can’t—”

  “They already have buyers,” Kael said, voice shaking despite his effort. “Mines. Beds. Anywhere bodies are needed.”

  Outrage surged — desperate, useless.

  Bars rattled.

  A guard shouted from somewhere above.

  Kael closed his eyes.

  This was worse than fear.

  This was inevitability.

  Hours passed.

  Food came — stale bread, thin water. No one ate much. Talking dulled into murmurs. Plans started and died mid-sentence.

  No one mentioned escape.

  Not yet.

  Eventually, exhaustion claimed the dungeon again.

  Kael lay back against the stone, staring at the ceiling, body aching, mind racing.

  Then—

  A sound.

  Soft.

  A breath drawn wrong.

  Kael’s head snapped sideways.

  Riven’s fingers twitched.

  “…Kael?”

  Kael surged to his knees, heart slamming.

  “I’m here,” he said immediately. “I’m here.”

  Riven stirred.

  And the pressure in the dungeon shifted again — slow, heavy, waiting.