The merchant caravan was just ahead, it was a roughed up line of creaking covered wagons, being pulled through the snow-dusted outskirts of Vel'Tharn.
The trade road groaned beneath the wagon wheels, frozen mud breaking apart with each crunch. The air carried the mix of wet timber and the musky sweat of horses, sharp enough to sting the nose.
Torchlight swayed in the fists of the guards, shadows stretching and twisting across the ground. Huddled behind a row of frost covered barrels, the five children pressed themselves low, their breaths spilling in fast, misty bursts that vanished almost as soon as they formed.
Elias tugged his scarf higher against the cutting wind, his eyes narrowing at Mira with a heat that didn't belong in the snow.
"I thought you said the plan would take all of us," he hissed, his voice barely above a whisper. "So why am I the distraction again?"
Mira didn't look at him, her sharp eyes fixed on the caravan's lead wagon, where a burly man in a fur-lined cloak barked orders at the guards. "Because," she murmured, "you're the only one who can pull it off without looking like you're about to stab someone."
Thorn, crouched beside her, smirked, his red eyes glinting in the torchlight. "She's not wrong. You've got that 'please don't hurt me' face. It's practically a weapon."
Elias groaned, rubbing his hands together to keep the cold at bay. "I'm starting to think you all just like watching me squirm."
Jace, whittling a stick into a sharper point than strictly necessary, gave a low chuckle. "It's not just that. You're good at it. Last time, you had Scar-cheek chasing air. That's talent."
Lutz, shivering under a too-big coat they'd scavenged from a trash heap, tugged at Elias's sleeve. "You'll be okay, right?" His wide eyes were more worried than the situation probably warranted, but in Vel'Tharn, worry was a survival instinct.
Elias forced a smile, ruffling Lutz's hair. "Yeah, Lutz. I'll be fine. Just… stay close to Mira, okay?"
Mira finally spared him a glance, her expression unreadable. "You know the signal. When you hear it, move fast. We won't have long."
Elias nodded, his stomach knotting. Mira's plan, hashed out in the warehouse last night, was well laid out but risky. The caravan was rumored to carry grain, dried meat, and possibly coin—enough to keep them fed through winter, maybe even buy passage to a less deadly part of Vel'Tharn.
The trick was getting in and out without triggering a full chase.
Mira's recon, gleaned from eavesdropping on dock workers, confirmed the lead wagon held the most valuable cargo, but it was guarded by the merchant's personal muscle—two of the six guards, both armed with short swords and cudgels.
The other four patrolled the caravan's perimeter, moving in predictable loops.
The plan was going to go like this: Elias would approach openly, drawing the perimeter guards' attention with a sob story.
Meanwhile, Thorn and Mira had their eyes on the rear wagon, where a sagging tarp half-hid a pile of cates. The plan was simple, strike a spark with flint and steel, feed it into a bundle of dry straw tucked by the axle, and let the flame do the rest. A lick of fire would be enough to panic the horses, send them thrashing, and drag the guards rushing from the front.
Jace, with his speed and strength, would slip in during the chaos to grab what he could from the lead wagon, while Lutz stayed hidden with a sack to carry smaller items.
Elias's job was to keep the guards distracted until the fire caught, then bolt before they connected him to the sabotage.
"Ready?" Thorn asked, his hand already on the flint, steel, and the straw bundle tucked under his arm.
Elias exhaled, the cold stinging his lungs. "Not really. But let's do it."
He stood, brushing snow from his knees, and stepped out from behind the barrels, hands raised to show he was unarmed.
The guards spotted him instantly, their postures stiffening. The lead guard, a grizzled man with a steel-wool beard, barked, "What's this?"
Elias put on his best desperate act, his voice trembling just enough to sell it. "Please, sir, I need help. My sister's sick. We've got no food, nothing to trade."
The merchant, overhearing, waved a hand dismissively. "Get him out of here."
A younger guard with a scar over his eye stepped forward, hand on his cudgel. "You heard him, kid. Scram."
Elias took a cautious step closer, keeping his hands visible. "Just a little food. I can work for it—carry supplies, anything."
Behind him, the faint rustle of Thorn and Mira moving into position was drowned out by the wind.
Elias kept his eyes on the guards, his heart pounding but his voice steady.
"Please, I'm begging. She's only six. She won't make it through the night without something."
The lead guard's scowl deepened, but his gaze flickered with something close to pity—or annoyance.
"You've got ten seconds to get lost before I let Joren here teach you a lesson," he said, nodding toward the scarred guard.
Joren, the younger one, cracked his knuckles, grinning. "Happy to oblige."
Elias held his ground, counting the seconds in his head. He needed to buy just a little more time. Mira had estimated it would take thirty seconds for the fire to catch enough to spook the horses.
He could see the perimeter guards shifting, their attention split between him and their posts.
The two near the lead wagon stayed put, their eyes locked on the merchant, who was rummaging through a ledger, oblivious to the growing tension.
"I can clean your boots," Elias pressed, taking another small step forward. "Or sharpen your blades. I'm quick, I swear."
Joren laughed, a harsh bark. "Quick to steal, maybe. I know your type, slum rat."
And then it came—the signal. A sharp, piercing whistle from Mira, disguised as a gust of wind to anyone not listening for it.
Almost instantly, a soft whoosh followed as the straw bundle caught fire at the rear wagon.
The flames were small but bright, licking up the tarp and sending a plume of smoke into the air.
The horses nearest the fire snorted, rearing against their reins, their panicked whinnies cutting through the night.
"Fire!" one of the perimeter guards shouted, spinning toward the back of the caravan.
The other three followed, sprinting toward the blaze, their boots crunching in the snow. The merchant yelped, dropping his ledger, and the two lead guards hesitated, torn between protecting him and joining the chaos.
Elias didn't wait to see what they'd choose. He turned and bolted, diving behind the barrels as the caravan erupted into shouts and the clatter of buckets.
Thorn and Mira were already at the rear of the lead wagon, working fast. Thorn reached the hatch, prying it open with a muffled creak. Mira crouched beside him, ready to grab whatever was inside.
But when Thorn swung the hatch open, he froze. No grain, no meat, no coin. Inside the dim, cramped space were children—a couple dozen of them, no older than Lutz, their wrists bound in chains.
Fear carved deep lines across their dirt-smeared faces, the leather bands on their arms etched with faintly glowing runes that pulsed like dying embers—each throb leeching away what little strength remained.
Their eyes, wide and desperate, locked on Thorn's.
And in that instant, he went still.