A boy beat his fists helplessly against the rock. "Let us out! Please!"
But the soldier only laughed.
He took a step forward, raising his hand. "This next spell will melt your bones. I'll start with the slowest one first."
He gathered energy between his fingers, a malicious grin twisting his face.
But in that moment—before the spell could be cast, before the scream could leave the girl's throat, before death could claim even a second more of innocence—something shifted in the air.
A gust of wind. A flicker of orange light.
Then—bam—he felt it, a presence behind him, Cold. Calm. Furious.
"You're not touching them," a voice said—low and resolute.
The soldier froze, his breath catching.