The guards knew Mela. She'd been around before, though it had been some time. Familiar enough to not raise alarms. Strange enough to draw glances.
"Let her in," one of them said with a shrug, half-looking at the gate. "Might be urgent."
The gate creaked open. Mela stepped through, slow and deliberate. Her body was stiff, her nerves coiled beneath the surface. Fear followed her like a shadow, clinging to her skin. But she kept moving. This was what she came for. This was what courage looked like.
"I've got something for you all," she said, loud enough to carry. Her voice didn't waver. She stopped near the cell patron, eyes flicking briefly toward the guards. One looked up, the other barely bothered.
It was the night shift—only a few men half-awake, barely hanging onto their posts. Mela reached into the basket and pulled out cakes, biscuits, wrapped in cloth and still warm from the oven. It looked harmless. Felt generous.
They took them, grinning. Thanked her. Ate without pause.
That was the upper section.
Farther back, past the barred windows and empty benches, behind the corridor most had forgotten, was the real place. The dungeon. Hidden behind a flat slab at the far end of the hall, covered in grime and age. Few ever noticed it. Fewer still cared.
Beneath that stone was a narrow stairway winding downward, eaten by dark. No guards posted. Just a lock and silence.
The prisoners looked famished;
Mela said nothing. She simply handed out the cakes and biscuits, one by one. They didn't ask questions. They just ate. Every crumb.
And then, nothing. A deep, ringing silence.
She stood there for a beat, her face unreadable. Then she turned and left, swift and sure.
Outside, the world breathed slower. Elsie and Skyler waited in the cover of the barn, hidden beneath canvas, crates, and old hay. Their hearts thudded with every passing second.
Mela came out with the basket now empty. Her face didn't show relief. Just focus.
Then—
"Who are you? What are you doing out here at this hour?
The voice came sharp from behind.
Mela stopped, shoulders tensing. She turned slowly.
It was another servant, young, half-recognizing her through the dark.
"Oh… Mela," he said, squinting. "Didn't realize it was you."
He stepped closer, confused. Too close.
Mela's fingers slid down her sleeve, gripping the sprinkler filled with Potion X. Her heart kicked harder in her chest.
She met his eyes. He looked puzzled.
"Sorry," she whispered—and sprayed.
The mist caught the light as it left the nozzle. Mela held her breath, careful not to inhale. It was strong enough to knock out a grown man. It might catch her too if she wasn't careful.
She watched him sway, blink, stumble, then fall.
Then she moved.
She reached the barn, eyes scanning. "You should get going. It's all clear," she whispered to Elsie and Skyler, voice low and steady.
Elsie nodded. Her turn now.
Skyler reached it first. They pried it open, just enough to slip through.
"We got the keys from the cellmatron, remember?" Skyler whispered.
Elsie nodded, holding the keyring close to her chest like a relic. She took the lead. The stairs groaned beneath them, dust spinning up with each step. The air grew heavier as they descended.
At the bottom, she moved fast, her fingers trembling as she tried the keys. One after another. All the same shape. All rusted.
Then—click.
"This one," she muttered, barely believing it.
The door gave way with a low groan, echoing down the corridor like a warning.
Inside, Tony lay curled, sweat pooling under his head, his body barely more than bones and cloth. Cobwebs stretched across his chest like strings of sorrow. He looked dead. Or something close to it.
Elsie didn't speak at first. She couldn't. Her breath caught in her throat as she stepped inside and dropped to her knees.
Meanwhile, Skyler approached the other cell.
Gabby.
She was curled too. Still. Sleeping maybe. But as Skyler neared, Gabby's leg lashed out, catching her and sending her stumbling to the ground.
In a flash, Gabby was up—faster than expected—grabbing Skyler by the neck, pressing her against the stone wall.
Skyler gasped, trying to speak, her voice rasping.
"I—I'm Skyler… who… are you?" she choked out.
Gabby's eyes narrowed, wild and sharp.
"I'm… here… to… rescue…" Skyler gasped again, barely able to speak.
Gabby paused.
Just for a second.
Then her grip softened. Her hands slipped away. She stared at Skyler, confused, uncertain.
And then she helped her up.
"It's Gabby," she muttered, wiping dirt from her arms as they left the tunnel together.
Back inside, Elsie had reached Tony.
She touched his face. Softly. Gently.
"Tony," she whispered, her voice cracking. "Wake up. It's me. I came to get you out of here."
Tony stirred, barely.
"Elsie?" His voice was dry, the word barely there.
She helped him up slowly. He was weak, legs shaking. His saddlebag was missing—gone. Taken. But that didn't matter now.
"We need to go. Now."
Skyler and Gabby waited above. The four of them moved together—slow, quiet, focused. Once out of the dungeon, they pulled the cover shut. Locked it tight. Placed the key back exactly where it had been.
No trace left behind.
And then, without a word, they vanished into the dark. Four figures swallowed by the night.