The corridor opened into a small courtyard bathed in moonlight. Shadows stretched long across the stones, and the chill night air whispered freedom.
The man leaned weakly on Kairo's shoulder, bruised and battered. But before he could protest, one of the children—a girl with delicate hands and sharp focus—stepped forward.
"Let me," she said softly.
A soft glow enveloped her palms as she lifted the man effortlessly, magic supporting his weight. The children stared in awe. Even Igron's smirk widened, clearly impressed.
"Finally using your potential," he muttered under his breath, eyes scanning the surrounding walls.
Kairo's crimson gaze swept the perimeter. "Keep moving. Don't make noise," he ordered. With subtle gestures, he adjusted the children's bones, shortening limbs where fatigue threatened to slow them, ensuring no stumble would betray them.
They moved silently through the shadows, past the estate's outer walls. The faint cries of the incapacitated nobles drifted on the wind, but none dared follow.
At last, the group reached the edge of the Trade Realm's outskirts. Open fields stretched before them, silvered by moonlight, and the cool night air washed over their bruised, tense bodies.
The man, cradled gently by the girl's magic, breathed deeply. "You've done… well," he rasped. Despite his exhaustion, a faint smile touched his lips. "I am proud of all of you."
Kairo nodded once, crimson eyes softening ever so slightly. He glanced at the children, the fear and awe mirrored in their wide eyes. They were bruised, shaken, but free.
Igron's grin broke fully now. "Not bad, little healer. Not bad at all. Though, I suppose we should be careful… the mistress will not forgive this easily."
Kairo's gaze shifted toward the horizon. Chains were broken. Bones had bent. And now, outside the walls of the Trade Realm, the real journey could begin.