"Keep your elbows in," Bella whispered. "You always knock the tin."
"I don't," Eli breathed.
Bella didn't argue. She crouched lower, pressing her hand to the cold dirt. The fence was close now - bent iron, roots pushing up through cracked stone. Just wide enough if they moved fast.
Eli's hands trembled at her sides.
"Even if it's cold," Bella said, barely audible. "Even if we starve - it's still better than this. At least it's open."
Eli nodded, but her eyes didn't leave the gap.
"We go on three," Bella said. "Not before."
One.Two-
A hand clamped down on her shoulder.
Bella flinched. Eli froze beside her.
"Silas," Bella muttered.
Of course it was him. It was always him when they pushed too far.
The grip tightened, just for a second.
The warden didn't raise his voice. He sounded almost bored. "What did I tell you about counting?"
They turned slowly.
Silas stood tall, torchlight catching the edge of his badge. His uniform looked sharper than most, sleeves rolled neat, boots clean. Not blood-soaked like the others. But not softer.
Eli looked down, shoulders slightly hunched, as if trying to fold into the dark.
Bella didn't. Her chin stayed level, eyes steady on Silas.
"We weren't hurting anyone," she said, voice flat.
"Not yet," he replied.
"We weren't going far," Eli added. "We just wanted-"
"You think freedom waits out there?" Silas asked, glancing past them toward the trees.
Bella met his eyes. "Whatever's out there's better than here."
"That's not freedom. That's frostbite and silence."
"It's still a choice."
He watched her for a long second. "I should raise alarm."
"But you won't," Bella said.
Silas exhaled through his nose. Not quite a laugh. "You two think you're clever."
"We didn't ask to be," she shot back.
A pause.
"If you hate your work so much," Silas said, "pick another. There's no shortage."
Eli blinked, surprised. "You're serious?"
Silas didn't reply.
Bella listed them flatly. "Pit cleaning. Stitching. Soot hauling. Forge shifts. Bone stack. Rat runs. Strip rooms. Night watch."
Eli added, quieter, "Fire lines. Ash cart. Mess sweep."
"All the same," Bella finished. "Same pain. Different corner."
Silas didn't comment. Just studied them for a moment.
"You're reassigned," he said at last.
Bella's jaw tightened. "To where?"
"You'll find out tomorrow."
He turned and started down the hall.
They followed.
The walk back was quiet. Torchlight shimmered against damp walls. They passed the sorting chamber, the bell room, the long corridor lined with hanging iron hooks.
No one looked their way.
Silas glanced down at Eli's leg. The dried smear still marked her shin.
"You bleed quiet," he said. "That's better than screaming."
Eli didn't respond and kept walking.
Bella's eyes stayed on the hallway ahead, jaw set.
He wasn't wrong. In this place, pain wasn't the problem - noise was. If you had to bleed, you did it quiet. That was the kind they let live longer.
They passed through the west wing, one of many. The halls twisted endlessly, stone-built and iron-lined. Some corridors were wide enough for carts, others barely more than crawlspaces. Doors led to kitchens, pits, tool rooms, ash tunnels. Somewhere far below, the forge burned day and night.
Dozens - maybe hundreds - lived inside these walls. Young faces, older ones, all moving with quiet precision. Everyone had a place, a task, a pattern. No one wandered. No one asked questions.
Silence wasn't enforced. It was learned.
Bella had seen things — quiet trades, tools passed under coats, scraps tucked into sleeves. But it wasn't just that.
Sometimes, entire jobs seemed off. Strange shifts, new buildings that no one talked about, people reassigned and never seen again.
Maybe it was illegal. She wasn't sure. She didn't even know what counted as illegal here. No one explained. They just obeyed.
But some doors never opened. Some halls were never spoken of. And Bella knew better than to ask.
No one ever talked about the restricted region. She didn't even know where it was, only that some doors stayed locked no matter who you were.
Guards moved through the main corridors in pairs, usually by shift bells. Wardens walked alone. Uniforms marked the difference - guards shouted, wardens watched.
They turned a corner, deeper into the compound.
Silas finally stopped at a narrow side door, unlatched it, and stepped aside.
The room inside was small - a disused storeroom, mostly empty. A folded mat, a cracked water jar, one wall lined with old hooks and dust. A stub of candle sat near the door, already burning low.
"You'll sleep here tonight," he said. "Someone will come for you after the bell."
Eli nodded quickly. "Thank you."
Silas gave her a glance that wasn't quite approval. "You're lucky. Most don't get a second gate."
Bella crossed her arms. "We're not done."
He gave her a long look. "No. You're not."
Then he shut the door.
No lock. No guards. Just stone behind them.
Eli sat on the mat, pulling her knees close. Bella leaned against the opposite wall, arms over her chest, eyes still sharp.
Silas had closed the door behind them with the same calm he always wore - not cruel, not gentle. Just done with it. That was his way. Even when he wasn't raising alarms, he still made sure you knew how small you were.
For a while, the only sound was the drip of water into a rusted bucket in the corner.
"Do you think he's going to report us later?" Eli asked.
"No," Bella said. "He likes playing fair. His version of it."
Eli stared at the floor. "What if we're reassigned to the forge?"
Bella didn't answer.
She stared at the candle stub between them. Its light was weak but steady, flickering just enough to catch the edge of her reflection in the water jar.
She looked different in firelight. Softer. Skin too clear for the compound, features too sharp to come from the linework pits or bone stacks. Her face didn't match the place - never had.
Angelic... that was the word someone had once whispered. Back when people still said things like that.
No one did anymore. Not here. Not where standing out meant being seen.
She didn't remember her mother. Didn't remember how she ended up here. Only that she had always been here and yet never felt like she belonged to it. Eli had rules in her head. Bella had questions. Always had.
Some nights she wondered if she'd ever had a real name. Before this place. Before numbers and mats and doors that only opened one way.
She leaned back against the stone, arms still folded across her chest.
In the dark, Silas's voice returned - flat, exact, in her mind.
"You'll find out tomorrow."
She didn't ask what. Neither did Eli.
Bella let her eyes close.
Not to sleep. Just to be still, and not be seen.