16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuu4W153b7pONE HOUR LATER- OUTSIDE THE GREAT HALL-
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Felix steps out of his black carriage, his injured arm bound tightly in a sling. His face is pale, jaw clenched, but his eyes burn with authority. Behind him, the black‑armored knights part like a tide.
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Theron climbs down from the golden carriage, robes brushing the stone. Metro follows close behind him, tension in every step.
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The guards at the prison entrance straighten instantly when they see Felix by making way.
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Inside the Prison Chambers the iron doors groan open.
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Metro’s breath catches.
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Paul and Blake hang from shackles bolted into the stone — shirtless, bruised, their bodies striped with fresh whip marks. Their eyes are swollen, lips split, dried blood crusted along their ribs.
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For a moment, Metro doesn’t move.
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Then he drops to his knees.
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His hands tremble as he reaches for them, voice breaking.
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Paul tries to smile through a cracked lip. Blake can’t even lift his head.
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Theron stands behind Metro, frozen. His eyes wide, mouth falling open in horror. Like he's never seen cruelty this raw, this close.
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Felix steps forward, pointing sharply.
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The guards scramble. Iron keys rattle. Chains clank. Paul and Blake collapse forward, caught by soldiers who suddenly look ashamed of themselves.
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Felix watches, jaw tight. He knows this is a stain on his city — and on him.
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The wounded men are lifted carefully and carried toward Theron’s royal carriage. Metro stays beside them gripping Blake’s shoulder as if afraid he'll vanish.
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Hoofbeats approach.
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Kathryn trots up beside the carriage on her red horse, eyes scanning the scene. When she sees Metro inside with the wounded men, she dismounts immediately.
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He looks genuinely surprised — almost relieved.
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She doesn’t waste a second. She pulls rations from her saddlebag, blankets from her horse, and climbs into the carriage with the boys, kneeling beside Paul and Blake, wrapping them gently, her voice low and steady.
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Metro watches her, stunned by her sudden tenderness.
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Outside, Felix and Theron walk together inside in coordination through the Great Hall. Setting there affairs in order.
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The golden carriage doors close.
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The rescue is underway.
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Inside the royal carriage, the world feels small and quiet compared to the chaos outside.
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Paul sleeps across the entire left bench, wrapped in Kathryn’s blanket, his breathing shallow but steady. Metro sits on the floor beside him, knees pulled up, one hand resting near Paul’s arm as if guarding him.
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Across from them, Kathryn cradles Blake’s head in her lap. She dips her fingers into a small tin of ointment and gently applies it to the bruises along his cheekbone.
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Blake squints up at her, dazed.
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Blake:
Who… who are you?
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Kathryn smiles — soft, mischievous, almost musical.
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Kathryn:
Just a dream. Now shut up and conserve your strength.
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Blake blinks, confused, then obeys.
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Kathryn tilts her head, studying the damage on his face, her expression shifting — the humor fading, replaced by something sharper, more aware.
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Kathryn:
There’s more going on here than I realized.
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Metro lifts his head from his knees, eyes red, voice low.
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Metro:
No kidding…
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The carriage rocks gently as it rolls through daylight. Outside the window, bright yellow birds burst from the treetops, gliding alongside Theron’s golden carriage like living sparks.
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Inside, the four of them ride in silence — wounded, shaken, but together.
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The scene fades.
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