The footsteps drew closer—each thud a slow, inevitable drumbeat against the cavern's stone. Mik and Sandro snapped into battle stances, muscles coiled, but the others remained frozen, stunned into inaction by fatigue or fear.
A figure stepped into the dim light: a middle-aged man with black hair and eyes like burnished gold. He exuded something that made the hairs on the boys' arms stand up—an aura of awe and dread at once.
He looked down into the pit where they lay with a sorrowful gaze, then spoke, his voice low and steady. "At last… you've woken, children. I am—"
Sandro lashed out without thinking, a blade of wind slicing toward the stranger. The man did not flinch. With a lazy, effortless flourish of his hand he folded wind around the attack and shattered it, then flicked his palm. Sandro flew back, skidding across the cave floor.
"You—" Sandro spat, staggering to his feet, eyes blazing. "You're a wind user."
Noel scrambled forward to check on Sandro, worry written across her face. The stranger continued as if amused by the interruption. "Child, you should learn not to cut someone off while they speak—especially someone older." He smiled, a sad, crooked thing. "My name is Mondric. But people used to call me Mo. For you… I am your savior, and you will serve me."
The five froze. Harris's voice cracked the silence. "Mo… do you mean—are you Mo the Catastrophe? One of the five Saviors?"
Mondric's eyes met his. "Yes." The word dropped like a stone, and the group's shock deepened into a collective intake of breath. "Yes." He added, almost bored. Then Mik barked, incredulous: "But… didn't you die?!"
Mondric's mouth twitched into a smile that was not wholly kind. "No. I did not die. And since I saved you, you are mine from this moment on."
Sandro's face hardened; anger flared red behind his pupils—Mo the Catastrophe had killed his parents ten years ago. "You have no right—" he snarled.
Mondric shrugged, dismissing any appeal to justice. "You have no choice. Serve me, or die."
A tense hush fell across the pit. Then, to everyone's surprise, one voice rose with ugly calm. "I'll join you."
Mondric's expression brightened as if someone had offered him a gift. "And your name? Your element?"
"Harris," the boy answered, eyes bright with a reckless sort of resolve. "I use fire. I'll join you—and you, sister, should join too." He turned his stare to Noel, who stood frozen beside Sandro.
Noel's face went white. "Are you insane? Don't you know who he is?" she hissed at Harris.
Harris only laughed, loud and hard. "I know who he is. I don't care. I have nothing to go back to. There's no reason to refuse. Join me, or I will kill you myself before he does."
There was an edge to him now—no joke in his words, no bluster. Even Mondric looked at Harris for a moment with genuine surprise, as if the boy's threat had revealed more than anyone expected.