The crypt did not change quickly. It changed in the smallest ways first—so small no one cared to notice.
Aeris sitting a little closer to Eryndor. Eryndor lifting his head whenever she whispered his name. Her fingers brushing his wrist to steady his breathing. His eyes softening in ways the priests despised.
Father Edran watched everything with silent hostility.
He saw how Eryndor's rage dulled whenever Aeris spoke. He saw how the boy flinched less. How he looked toward her before reacting to pain.
It was intolerable.
A "subject" was not meant to be soothed. Only measured. Only broken.
Aeris didn't understand that.
She smiled at Eryndor when the guards weren't looking. She whispered small things—soft, harmless things—that shouldn't have mattered:
"You're shaking. It's okay. I'm here."
"You don't have to be afraid."
"You're not alone."
Those words, spoken in that place, were almost miracles.
And miracles were forbidden.
Edran's voice eventually scraped across the chamber like steel:
"She interferes. Remove her from his side!"
Guards seized Aeris's chain and dragged her several paces away.
Eryndor reached for her instinctively—
only to be kicked hard in the ribs.
"Stay down."
He collapsed, trembling, mind spiraling.
His chest burned—not with hunger, but with fear.
But the priest's patience eroded quickly.
Every time Aeris looked at Eryndor with compassion, the boy responded. Every time she calmed him, the experiment lost "purity." Edran needed him irrational, terrified, broken.
Aeris was undoing years of their work.
So Edran tested his theory.
He had Aeris brought close again—not to comfort the boy, but to use her.
"Stand her here," he ordered.
Aeris stumbled as they pushed her to the slab.
Eryndor's heart pounded painfully against his ribs.
Edran lifted her chin with two fingers.
"Look at him."
Aeris obeyed, trembling.
Eryndor felt sick. Her fear wasn't of him. It was of what they might do because of him.
Edran smirked. "Fascinating, isn't it? The creature depends on her presence."
He turned to the guards.
"Prepare to remove the girl permanently."
Aeris froze.
Eryndor's blood ran cold.
"No…" his voice cracked. "No, don't—please—don't touch her—"
Edran ignored him.
Two guards moved toward Aeris.
Eryndor's instincts detonated.
He lunged against the chains—not out of hungernot out of violencebut pure terror.
The iron bit deep into his wrists, splitting flesh.
But he pulled anyway.
I won't watch this happen. I won't lose someone again. Not because of me. Not again. NEVER AGAIN.
The bolts groaned. Tiny fractures formed in the stone.
Aeris screamed, "Stop—please—you're hurting yourself!"
But Eryndor didn't hear anything except the guards reaching for her wrist.
He pulled harder.
Bone ground against metal. Blood poured freely down his arms.
Still he pulled.
His vision blurred with pain, but he saw only Aeris—her small frame shaking, her eyes wide and terrified not of him, but for him.
"Take her," Edran ordered.
A guard seized her by the arm.
"NO!" Eryndor's voice cracked with pure agony. "LET HER GO!"
The chain split another inch.
Edran finally saw the danger.
"Restrain him. Now."
The guards rushed him—spears raised.
Eryndor tried to shield Aeris with his body even though he couldn't reach her.
One guard thrust forward.
The spear pierced Eryndor's shoulder.
He jerked back, breath torn from his chest—
but he didn't stop.
He grabbed the chain again, fingers slipping on his own blood, and pulled with everything he had left.
Not for escape.
Not for himself.
For her.
I won't let them kill someone else because of me. I won't be the reason again. I won't… I won't…
The pain was overwhelming, but the emotion was worse—too big, too sharp, too human.
His legs buckled.
He fell to his knees, crying—a sound he hadn't made since Aeris first spoke to him.
Aeris tore herself from the guard's grip and threw herself in front of him.
"STOP!" she screamed at the priests. "HE'S A CHILD!"
Edran's face twisted with disgust.
"So are you. And both of you are expendable."
Aeris turned, cupping Eryndor's face with trembling hands.
"Look at me," she whispered. "You're not alone. I won't let them hurt you. I won't."
Her voice shook—but it didn't break.
Something in Eryndor shattered anyway.
The part of him that believed no one would ever stand between him and death again.
He sobbed into her palms.
Aeris held him tighter.
"I'm not leaving," she whispered fiercely. "They'll have to kill me."
Edran's voice cut through the moment:
"Then so be it."
Edran's command hung in the air like a blade waiting for the throat it would choose.
Aeris didn't move.
Her legs trembled violently, but she stood in front of Eryndor like a shield woven from desperation instead of steel. Her thin arms spread wide, as if her small frame could block the guards, the priest, the whole world if it had to.
Eryndor stared at her through tears, barely able to breathe.
She was shaking. She was terrified. Yet she didn't back away.
She's going to die because of me again. Another person. Another innocent. Another life destroyed because I exist.
The thought cracked through him like lightning.
"I said remove her," Edran repeated, colder now.
One guard reached for Aeris.
Eryndor lunged instinctively—but the chain yanked him back, slicing deeper into his skin. The pain made him gasp, made white sparks flicker in his vision, but he still tried to rise.
"I won't—" His voice broke. "I won't let you touch her!"
The guard grabbed Aeris's wrist. She cried out and tried to twist away.
Eryndor's heartbeat slammed against the fractures of the seal inside him.
Not again. Don't take her. Please—please—please—
His fingers clawed at the chain, trembling violently as he tried to rip the shackle free. The metal didn't snap—but it shifted, scraping stone as the bolt loosened.
Edran's eyes narrowed.
"So. The creature is capable of will."
Another guard approached, spear angled toward Aeris's chest.
Eryndor's breath tore free in a hoarse scream.
"STOP!!"
It wasn't power. It wasn't magic. It wasn't divine.
It was pure, raw terror.
That terror cracked the seal a little more.
Not enough to break it. But enough for the world around him to ripple—a breath of something old and forgotten leaking through the fracture.
The lantern flames flickered. Dust rose from the stones. The guards froze for half a heartbeat, confused.
Aeris noticed—her eyes widened at the faint shimmer that ran along Eryndor's skin.
But before anything else could happen, the spear lifted again.
Eryndor forced himself upright, groaning through clenched teeth.
"If you touch her…" His voice quivered. "…then you'll have to kill me too."
Edran tilted his head, almost amused.
"That was always the plan."
He motioned.
The guard drew back his spear.
Aeris screamed, grabbing the guard's arm with both hands.
"NO—stop—stop—DON'T—!"
Chaos erupted.
She struggled. The guard shoved her. Eryndor pulled against the chains so hard the shackles cracked the bone beneath his skin.
Then—in one frantic scramble—Aeris stumbled backward, tripped over loose stone—
—and fell against Eryndor.
Her weight shifted the chain just enough.
A bolt ripped free from the wall with a sound like tearing metal.
The chain didn't break—but it hung loose.
Eryndor stared, panting, blood dripping down his arms.
Aeris realized what happened at the same moment he did.
She whispered, terrified and breathless:
"Move. Now!"
Eryndor didn't think.
He surged to his feet. The remaining chains dragged behind him like dead serpents but no longer pinned him in place.
Edran's voice broke into a shout:
"STOP HIM!"
Guards lunged.
Eryndor grabbed Aeris and pulled her toward the dark corner of the crypt where shelves and barrels cast deep shadows.
He could barely stand. He stumbled with every step. Pain carved through him like knives. But he didn't let go of her hand.
Aeris clung to him, gasping, "This way—this way—hurry—"
The guards' boots slammed against stone behind them.
Aeris pulled him behind the shelves just as a spear slammed into the wall above them, scattering dust over their heads.
Eryndor choked on the air, lungs burning, body trembling.
Aeris leaned close to his ear.
"There's a service hatch—the cleaners use it. I saw them once."
He stared at her in disbelief.
"You… you saw that?"
She nodded, breath shaky.
"I wasn't chained as tightly as you at first. I paid attention. I remembered things. I thought maybe one day you might need them."
His chest tightened at her words.
"Why would you—"
"Because you saved me before you even tried," she whispered. "You kept me sane just by being someone I could talk to."
Footsteps thundered closer.
"Aeris—where is it?" he whispered.
She pointed to the darkness beneath a shelf—where a small wooden maintenance door sat half-hidden.
He crouched, ignoring the pain that screamed through his bones, and yanked it open.
Cold air rushed through.
Aeris crawled in first.
Eryndor followed, pulling the door shut behind them just as guards rounded the corner.
The sudden silence felt sharp.
They crawled through the narrow tunnel. Rats scurried past. Cobwebs clung to their hair. Stone scraped their knees and palms.
But they kept going.
Eryndor's heart pounded with every breath, the fractures of the seal aching with unfamiliar force.
Not power yet—but pressure.
The tunnel sloped upward.
Aeris whispered, "We're close… I think we're close…"
Eryndor's voice trembled:
"If they catch you… if anyone dies because of me again… I don't want— I can't—"
Aeris turned back, face dirt-streaked, eyes fierce.
"Eryndor," she whispered. "You're not killing anyone. They are. They're choosing this. You're just trying to survive."
"But it's always because of me," he breathed.
She touched his cheek with shaking fingers.
"Then let me choose you too."
His breath stilled.
Something inside him ached—so deeply he almost doubled over.
He didn't understand what she meant. But the warmth in her voice made the seal inside him strain painfully.
Another crack ran through it.
Not broken.
But weakening.
They reached a grate.
Eryndor braced his hands, pushed—
and for the first time in years, moonlight touched his skin.
He froze.
Aeris climbed out behind him, snow crunching under her bare feet.
She inhaled sharply.
"We made it…"
Eryndor looked at the sky as if he feared it wasn't real.
Cold wind stung his wounds, but he didn't care.
"We have to move," he whispered. "Before they find us."
Aeris nodded, clutching his arm.
They ran—through frost-bitten grass,through the night wind,through the first falling snow.
Not fast. Not gracefully. Not heroically.
Just two starving children escaping the jaws of something ancient and cruel.
The path ahead was uncertain.
But for the first time since his parents died—
Eryndor wasn't alone.