The massive iron door of the dungeon groaned on its hinges, a sound like a centuries-old wound being ripped open. Outside in the corridor stood four towering guards—men clad in heavy plate armor that gleamed like dried blood under the flickering, sickly yellow torchlight. The lead guard snapped his neck to the side, the audible crack of his joints slicing through the heavy silence. At that moment, he appeared entirely fearless; to him, these children were merely common prisoners, and moving them was nothing more than a mundane daily chore.
"Get up! Move out!" he bellowed with absolute authority. The guards began herding the small cluster of children toward the dark throat of the corridor. Luka felt Lane's hand still anchored in his—cold as a frozen grave. Lane's face was as motionless as a marble bust, but his pupils had dilated into vast black pits, swallowing the darkness of the dungeon. As they moved forward, the guard bringing up the rear caught Lane's gaze for the first time, and the man's ironclad confidence shattered like glass.
The soldier had no idea who Lane was, but the moment his eyes locked with those steady, lifeless orbs, he felt a primal shiver coursing through his marrow. It was the exact sensation of a mouse suddenly realizing it is in the presence of a silent, watching cat. A strange, senseless smile spread across the guard's face—the kind of grin that desperately tries to mask a sudden, overwhelming dread. He began to drift away from Lane, trying to create distance. The closer he accidentally got to the boy, the thicker the sweat became on his brow.
The guard instinctively shifted his path, hugging the opposite wall of the corridor to keep a wide berth. His eyes kept darting back, over and over, checking to see how far behind the predator still lingered. As the guard nervously tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, the atmosphere in the hallway shifted violently. Fearing the mounting tension, Luka squeezed Lane's fingers even harder.
In that instant, a jolt of electricity surged through Luka's body. Lane's hand, already chilly, had now turned into something resembling ancient ice. The air grew heavy and so frigid that Luka's breath began to spiral into white mist. Then, Lane slowly tilted his head. His stony expression dissolved into a smile that could make anyone's heart stop. He looked at the soldiers—his eyes no longer held a void, but rather the cruel glint of a hunter savoring the helplessness of its prey.
That smile sank into the guards' hearts like a poisoned dagger. Their footsteps faltered, and the only sound in the corridor was the rhythmic chattering of their teeth. But the moment Lane's gaze swung back to Luka, his entire face transformed instantly. The terrifying predator vanished, replaced by an expression of pure, angelic innocence. He looked at Luka with eyes so soft and guileless that it seemed he was the most blameless child in the world.
The false purity shining in his eyes left Luka spiraling in confusion. He couldn't understand which Lane was real—the one who was curdling the soldiers' blood, or the one smiling at him like a little cherub. As they emerged from the corridor into a vast main hall, the air grew even heavier. In a distant, shadowed corner sat a small girl whose royal attire shimmered with expensive elegance even in the dim light. She sat there with the stillness of a queen, seemingly a part of the darkness itself.
The guards, who had been brutally herding the children just moments ago, suddenly froze like stone statues. They didn't dare even approach the hall, let alone step toward that corner. They stood at a distance, paralyzed by a dread that left them breathless. Lane, however, was indifferent to their fear. Although he didn't know the girl, he released Luka's hand and ran toward her. He knelt before the stranger with heartbreaking gentleness and asked, "Are you alright?"
The girl lifted her lashes at the sound of his voice. Her eyes held neither anger nor hate. She simply stared at Lane, as if he were something she had never encountered before. There was a strange wonder in her gaze, as if she had never spoken to a child her own age in her entire life. She seemed accustomed to a royal isolation where conversation was a rare event. The hall fell into a frozen silence until Luka, gripped by unease, managed to call out, "Lane! Come back!"
At the sound of Luka's voice, Lane's predator-like agility returned. He turned instantly and ran back to Luka's side. The guards let out a long, collective sigh of relief. Lane took Luka's hand again, returning to his role as an ordinary child, but the silent, bewildered gaze of that royal girl continued to prick at Luka's back. Who was this girl who seemed so untouched by human interaction?