Would they be next?

Containment Cell, Deep Levels of the Alpine Bunker.

The heavy cell door slid shut with a pneumatic hiss, plunging the two figures inside back into darkness. They watched with a heavy heart as the silhouettes of Sofia and Diego, flanked by the black-armored guards, disappeared down the corridor. An oppressive silence, heavy with unspoken fear, settled between them.

"May the ancient spirits of the land protect you," the woman, Isabel, finally whispered, running a hand over the intricate, dark-ink tattoos coiling beneath the sleeve of her threadbare robe. They were sigils of power, some protective, others of a more... volatile nature. Her hair, a swirl of dark brown curls, was carelessly pulled back, and her eyes, a haunting violet, shone with a mixture of defiance and deep melancholy.

Beside her, Ricardo, a man of sinewy build and restrained energy, nodded gravely. His hands, never still, traced invisible patterns in the air, as if he were constantly channeling or dissipating a restless energy. "I fear for them, Isabel. For their little one. These... 'masters of the world'... know no mercy."

They were not ordinary magicians, Isabel and Ricardo. Their power did not flow through the orderly channels of Umbria's academic magic, nor through the elemental communion of Catemaco's healers. Theirs was a different magic, more instinctive, rawer, sometimes frighteningly chaotic. They drew power from extreme emotions, from storms, from the dissonances of the Grid itself, shaping it with iron will but often with unpredictable results.

"They did not choose to be here," Isabel said, her voice low. "They were hunted for their goodness, for their light. We..." A bitter smile curved her lips. "We walked toward the cage with our eyes open."

They vividly remembered why. They hadn't been caught healing the disinherited. Their sacrifice had been for their true masters, those to whom they had sworn loyalty in blood and spirit: the Great Leaders of the Lodge of the White Brotherhood of Querétaro, a conclave of adepts and sages whose main sanctuary lay hidden in the mystical folds of the Sierra Gorda.

"When the Bloodhounds of the Consortium, the attack dogs of these Thirteen Families, scented the trail of our Masters," Ricardo recalled, his violet eyes glowing with the fire of memory, "we knew that the time of subtlety was over. The Elders of the Lodge, those who guard the Flame of True Compassion, needed to escape, to take their wisdom, their uncorrupted light, to a new refuge to continue their essential work for humanity."

Isabel nodded, her gaze lost in the memory of those frantic days. "And we, the Guardians of the Lodge's Threshold, were the distraction. The decoy. We unleashed a controlled storm of our chaotic magic upon their pursuers in the canyons of the Sierra. Illusions that tore at sanity, echoes of elemental power, enough to create monumental confusion, to erase psychic and physical clues, to buy our Masters the precious time they needed to disappear into the hidden folds of the world, like the wind among the rocks."

"We knew they would capture us," Ricardo added, and despite the coldness of the cell, a strange warmth, a somber pride, shone across his face. "It was the price of their freedom, of the continuation of their Great Work. Although we may not have suffered as much as Diego and Sofía in the form of their capture—no one used our nonexistent children as hostages—our choice was a conscious sacrifice. An offering of our own freedom for the greater good they represent."

A rare moment of peace, even contentment, enveloped them.

"But we made it, Ricardo," Isabel whispered, a single tear trailing a path in the dust on her cheek. "The Masters are safe. The Grand Lodge of the White Brotherhood... its light, though it must now shine in secret, has not been extinguished. They can continue to weave its threads of peace into the tapestry of the world, countering the darkness and greed that these..." She gestured vaguely toward the walls of their prison. "...these jailers so diligently sow."

Ricardo took her hand, his touch firm and comforting. "Our chains are a small price to pay if their vital work continues. Saving their leaders was their priority, and they took deep satisfaction in that. Keeping humanity on a path of balance, of compassion, of spiritual awakening... that was always the mission of the Brotherhood. And for that, our presence here... was worth it."

Despite their satisfaction in the sacrifice made, fear for their own immediate future was a beast lurking in the shadows of the cell. Sofia and Diego had been the first to be called. Would they be next? What would the Council want from two wizards whose specialty was precisely controlled chaos and system disruption? The uncertainty was tormenting, but in their hearts, the flame of their purpose, even though it now burned in a prison, had not gone out.