The stone courtyard of the City Watch headquarters was quiet under the dim glow of lantern light.
A few guards moved between the stables and the barracks, their boots echoing softly across the cobblestones. Somewhere nearby, a horse snorted in the cold night air.
Martha stood near the gate, clutching her cloak tightly around her shoulders.
Captain Dorian Halborn stood in front of her.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Calm.
The kind of man who looked like trouble had learned to avoid him long ago.
"We will find them," he said firmly.
His voice carried quiet authority.
"Please return to the orphanage, ma'am. You've done the right thing coming to us."
Martha's hands trembled slightly.
"They left hours ago," she said. "Arin, Tomas… Lyra… they never stay out this late."
Halborn nodded once.
"I understand."
He gestured toward a nearby carriage bearing the crest of the City Watch.
"We'll begin searching immediately. If anything has happened, we'll know soon."
Two guards stepped forward respectfully.
"Escort Miss Martha back to the orphanage."
Martha hesitated for a moment.
Her eyes searched the captain's face, looking for certainty.
Halborn held her gaze calmly.
"We will bring them back."
After a moment, she nodded.
The guards helped her into the carriage.
The driver snapped the reins lightly, and the vehicle rolled away into the lantern-lit streets.
Halborn watched it disappear down the road.
For a moment, the courtyard fell quiet.
Then footsteps approached behind him.
"Captain."
Halborn turned.
One of the watchmen stood there, slightly out of breath.
"I have something you should hear, sir."
Halborn's brow furrowed slightly.
"What is it?"
The guard stepped closer.
"Near the market alley where the children were sent to buy supplies… we found two cloth bags."
Halborn's eyes sharpened.
"Go on."
"They contained potatoes, spices and meat. Just like Miss Martha claimed."
The guard hesitated briefly.
"And there were signs of a struggle."
Halborn's posture straightened.
"Define struggle."
The guard swallowed.
"Marks on the stone walls. Scorching. Ice fragments. Broken mud cobbles."
"Magic."
The captain's expression hardened.
"Yes, sir."
The guard continued.
"It looks like someone chased them through the alley."
For a moment Halborn said nothing.
Then he turned sharply toward the kennels.
"Bring the hounds."
The guard blinked.
"Yes, Captain?"
Halborn's voice turned colder.
"Use the scent from the bags."
His gaze moved toward the dark streets beyond the courtyard.
"If those children were taken…"
His hand rested on the hilt of his sword.
"…we will hunt whoever did it."
The guard straightened instantly.
"Yes, sir."
Within moments, the courtyard burst into motion.
Lanterns were lifted.
Leashes rattled.
Deep-throated hounds began to bark as the watch prepared to follow the trail into the night.
And somewhere far beyond the city streets—
Three children waited behind rusted iron bars.
——————
The warehouse remained quiet.
Only the slow creak of lantern chains and the distant slap of river water against the docks broke the silence.
On the couch across the room, Ludo's breathing had grown deep and uneven.
Asleep.
Inside the iron cell, Arin lowered his head slightly.
Tomas and Lyra sat in front of him, their backs partially shielding him from the guard's view.
For a moment, Arin simply listened.
Ludo snored softly.
Outside the warehouse, faint footsteps passed somewhere in the distance.
Good.
Slowly, Arin reached into his pocket.
His fingers closed around something thin.
The rune pen.
He pulled it out carefully.
The small metal tool felt colder than the stone floor beneath him.
A faint smear of transparent ink still clung inside the nib.
Not much.
Just the last drops.
Enough for one attempt.
Arin exhaled quietly.
His eyes drifted to the broken wooden stick lying across his lap.
When Gratt had struck the bars earlier, the blow had split the wood.
The inside of the stick was hollow.
Like a pipe.
That was when the idea had formed.
Arin glanced once toward Ludo.
Still asleep.
Good.
He lifted the pen—
And instinctively tried to move his right hand.
The moment the arm shifted—
Pain exploded through his shoulder.
A sharp, blinding spike that nearly forced a cry from his throat.
Arin's teeth clenched hard.
His arm refused to move.
Numb.
Weak.
Broken.
Damn it.
For a moment his vision blurred.
Then he took a slow breath.
Think.
He reached with his left hand and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt.
Then he leaned forward slightly.
His teeth bit down on the loose collar fabric.
Hard.
The cloth muffled the sound that tried to escape his throat.
His jaw tightened.
Then—
Slowly—
He forced his broken arm forward.
The movement felt like dragging a blade through bone.
His body trembled violently as he guided the hand toward the stick.
The rune pen slid into his right fingers.
Barely.
His grip was weak.
Unstable.
But enough.
Arin lowered his head.
And began to draw.
The pen scratched softly against the wood.
One mistake and we die.
His mind moved quickly, assembling pieces of knowledge from weeks of obsessive rune study.
Compression.
Acceleration.
Two functions.
Two rings.
The first circle of symbols formed slowly around the hollow pipe.
Compression runes.
Anything pushed into the hollow chamber would first be compressed inward.
Mana.
Water.
Stone.
Doesn't matter.
It will condense the mass.
His hand trembled violently as he continued.
The ink supply inside the pen was fading.
He had to finish.
The second ring followed the first.
Acceleration runes.
Once compressed—
The energy would be forced forward at increased velocity.
A crude projectile launcher.
Arin's breathing grew heavier.
Pain throbbed through his arm with every tiny movement.
Tomas noticed.
His eyes flicked briefly toward the swelling on Arin's arm.
But he said nothing.
Lyra kept her body positioned carefully to block the guard's line of sight.
The pen scratched again.
And again.
A final symbol closed the circle.
Arin froze.
For a moment he simply stared at the runes drawn across the wooden pipe.
His hand slowly lowered.
The pen slipped from his fingers.
Empty.
The last of the ink was gone.
The rune was complete.
Or at least—
He hoped it was.
His chest rose slowly as he tried to steady his breathing.
Everything now depended on whether the design would work.
Compression.
Acceleration.
If Tomas or Lyra injected even a small amount of mana—
The projectile should launch with far greater force.
Enough to hurt someone.
Maybe enough to kill.
Arin lifted his head.
His voice barely above a whisper.
"It's done."
Tomas leaned slightly closer.
"What is it?"
Arin held up the wooden pipe carefully.
"A launcher."
Lyra blinked.
"A what?"
Arin's eyes flicked toward the sleeping guard.
Then back to them.
"If it works…"
His voice remained calm.
"…we might actually get out of here alive."
The lantern above creaked softly in the night wind.
Across the room—
Ludo shifted slightly in his sleep.
The warehouse lanterns swayed gently overhead.
Outside, the river wind whispered through the wooden walls.
Inside the iron cell, Arin leaned forward slightly.
"Come closer," he whispered.
Tomas and Lyra leaned toward him, their shoulders nearly touching.
Arin's voice was barely audible.
"I have an idea."
He tilted his head slightly toward the room beyond the bars.
Ludo was slumped on the couch, half asleep.
The key ring hung from his belt.
Right there.
Arin nodded toward it.
"That."
Tomas followed his gaze.
The key.
Realization flickered in his eyes.
Arin lowered his voice even further.
"We need him to come close."
Lyra swallowed.
"How?"
Arin looked at her.
"You."
Her eyes widened.
"Me?"
"He won't be careful if he thinks you're begging."
Lyra hesitated.
Arin lifted the wooden pipe launcher slightly and handed it to Lyra.
"When he gets close, Tomas grabs his casting hand."
Tomas nodded.
"And you?" he asked.
"I'll lock his other arm."
Arin's voice hardened.
"No matter what happens… don't let him scream."
Tomas's jaw tightened.
"I will make sure of it."
Lyra glanced at the launcher in her hands.
"And me?"
Arin met her eyes.
"You fire."
Lyra's fingers tightened around the wooden pipe.
Arin continued quietly.
"You don't need much mana."
"Just enough water to form a droplet."
"The runes will do the rest."
Lyra nodded slowly.
Her heart pounded inside her chest.
Arin exhaled.
"Alright."
He looked toward Ludo again.
"Let's do this."
—————
After some moment Lyra stepped closer to the iron bars.
Her voice trembled.
"Please…"
Ludo stirred slightly.
"…can I have some water?"
No response.
Lyra tried again.
"Please… I'm thirsty."
Ludo's eyes opened lazily.
He looked toward the cell.
Lyra stood there, small and frightened behind the bars.
Tomas and Arin sat behind her.
Harmless.
Ludo smirked.
"Well, well."
He stood slowly.
"You finally decided to behave?"
Lyra lowered her gaze.
"Please… just a little water."
Ludo chuckled.
"Sure."
He walked closer.
His staff tapped against the wooden floor.
"Come here."
Lyra took a small step back.
Acting scared.
Ludo stopped right in front of the bars.
"Don't be shy."
His hand began gathering mana.
A small sphere of water formed in his palm.
"Drink."
His arm slid through the iron bars.
That was the moment.
Tomas moved first.
His hand shot forward and seized Ludo's wrist.
Before the mage could react—
Tomas shoved his entire fist into Ludo's mouth.
The scream died in his throat.
Arin lunged.
His left arm wrapped around Ludo's other arm and twisted it against the iron bars.
It was a vicious struggle for survival.
No rules. No hesitation. Only life or death.
The skinny mage's eyes exploded wide with panic.
His body struggled violently.
But the bars trapped his arms.
And Tomas's fist crushed his jaw shut.
"NOW!" Arin hissed.
Lyra raised the wooden pipe.
Her hands shook.
Water gathered in the chamber.
A small droplet.
Barely the size of a marble.
Compression.
The rune circle ignited faintly.
The droplet collapsed inward.
Acceleration.
Lyra pulled the trigger motion—
And the pipe cracked with a muted burst.
THWIP.
The water projectile punched through Ludo's stomach.
His body jerked violently.
His eyes bulged.
Another shot.
THWIP.
The projectile tore through his chest.
Blood sprayed across the wooden floor.
Tomas held him tighter.
Ludo's eyes filled with tears.
His body shook violently as blood poured from the holes in his torso.
Arin's voice came low and urgent.
"Lyra."
"Shoot his head."
Ludo shook his head desperately.
Those eyes were of a person begging for mercy.
Lyra's eyes trembled.
Then something dark passed through her mind.
Her home.
Her father.
The goblins.
Her mother screaming.
Her fear hardened.
She aimed.
THWIP.
The projectile punched through his neck.
Blood burst out in a wet spray.
The mage's strength vanished instantly.
His body sagged.
Lyra fired once more.
THWIP.
The projectile pierced his temple.
Ludo's eyes rolled upward.
His body went limp.
Silence returned to the warehouse.
Tomas slowly removed his fist.
Ludo collapsed like a broken puppet.
Dead.
For several seconds—
None of them moved.