Whenever Christa visited the upper district, she was able to dream of what it would be like to wake up every day in the luxurious mansions that occupied its spacious streets. But whenever she walked back to the lower district, she was always brought back to her own hopeless reality. And this walk was no different. With each step, the buildings would become smaller and more decrepit than the last. The wide and straight streets would become more narrow and winding. High-end restaurants became dives, and boutiques became cheap stalls for items of the lowest quality. Despite being in the same city, the two district were two very different worlds on opposite sides of the river Vira. But this world, the one that sat on the southern bank of the river, was her home. Christa’s feet were tired, but at last, they had made it. She stood before the Grimm Inn, a modest establishment nestled within the winding streets of the lower district. The building was unremarkable, with its simple wooden facade and plain sign hanging overhead. But for Christa, it was a welcome sight after a long journey. She looked back at Orin, the walk had definitely not been kind to him. Towards the end, he had lost a lot of pace, and so the walk took longer. She was almost sure that he had lost more weight since the time by the river, but how that was possible, she did not know. “We’re here,” she told him, pushing on the large doors. As the doors parted open, the scent of ale and roasting meat filled her nostrils. The inn was dimly lit, with flickering candles casting shadows across the room. The patrons were a mix of working-class locals and weary travellers, huddled around tables and murmuring in hushed tones. Her stomach rumbled as if it had a mind of its own and was begging her to fill it. She heard Orin’s stomach grumble as if responding to her own. “Hey, you do have coin on you, right?”, Orin said, his eyes wide open. “Yes…” Christa responded. She did not know where Orin had found the energy from, she could hardly believe that this was a man who was struggling to walk just minutes ago. But he had ran up to the bar to make his order before she could finish what she had to say. “… but you’ll have to pay me back” she finally finished to ears that weren’t around to hear her. She sighed and made her way to the bar, her eyes scanning the room as she went. The inn was small, with only a handful of tables and a single fireplace providing warmth on this chilly evening. But it had a certain charm to it, a sense of belonging. Orin had already ordered and gone off to find an empty table by the time Christa got to the bar. Kai, the burly bartender, looked up from his cleaning with a grizzled smile, his wild mane of hair framing his rugged features. “Well, well, well,” Kai greeted her with a warm chuckle. “If it isn’t Christa. It’s been a while. I’m guessing that man over there is with you?” Christa glanced over at Orin, who sat at a nearby table with a frothy ale in hand, his bearded face split by a grin. You’d almost think the God Motriar himself had died with how much he was smiling. "Hey, yeah I guess you could say that." "He's a little too old for you, don't you think?" Kai jested, his eyes twinkling with mirth. Christa rolled her eyes, a hint of amusement playing at the corners of her lips. "It's not like that," she replied quickly, turning back to Kai. "I'm just yanking your chain," Kai said, wiping a glass with a ragged towel. "So, what'll it be?" Christa hesitated for a moment, staring nervously at the bar counter. "Kai?" she asked, her voice tinged with anxiety. "Do you think I could get one ale, please? The Dirty Blonde, I think that was Jax's favourite." Kai raised an eyebrow suspiciously, his eyes narrowing. "And what are you, fifteen, not even sixteen? You know I can't do that. Jax would kill me if he found out I was serving you alcohol." Christa's eyes grew misty, tears glistening in the flickering torchlight. Since it had happened, she hadn't spoken the words out loud. Now, saying them felt like ripping off a bandage. "Jax is dead," she whispered, her voice cracking. Kai’s eyes widened in shock, “What? How could that be?” He asked, his voice laced with disbelief. Christa looked up at him, her eyes haunted. “He was killed” she explained, her voice quivering with emotion. “I just wanted to honour him just this once, with his favourite ale.” Kai's expression softened; his rough features etched with sympathy. "I'm so sorry, Christa,” he murmured, "I didn't realise." He hesitated for a moment, then relented with a sigh. "Okay," he said, reaching for a glass. "Just this once, and it's on the house. Anyway, head over there; the food will be out soon. I believe that man ordered for you too. Said you’ll be paying, so I’ll bring the bill over shortly.“ "Thank you," Christa said, her voice barely above a whisper. She took a deep breath, then picked up the glass and made her way over to Orin, her heart heavy with grief. As she approached the table, she could see the froth from the ale clinging to Orin's thick beard, with his glass already half empty. He gestured for Christa to sit down “Here, sit down.”, he said, his voice jovial. He was still smiling wide and bright to the point where it was infectious. It must’ve been a while since he had last tasted alcohol, let alone had a proper meal. Knowing what it was to eat after starving for so long, Christa couldn’t help but smile back at him as she sat down with her own ale in hand. She raised the glass to and nervously took a sip. She contorted her face in disgust and placed it back down. Orin laughed at her reaction. “First time?” Christa nodded, her cheeks reddening. "Why would anyone want to drink this?" “The flavour grows on you.” Orin said as he took a big gulp of his own ale. “Anyway, who are we here to see?” Christa looked at him sheepishly. "Well, actually, I don't know. All I know is that we had to meet her here." Orin wiped the froth from his beard with the back of his hand. "I should've guessed. It's a trend with you. Seems you don't know who or what anyone looks like." Christa looked up at him, her eyes wide. "Yes, I usually leave all of that with Jax." "So what's the plan?" Orin asked. "We just wait here until they come. I still need to get paid for this job," Christa replied, picking up her glass and taking another, slightly less hesitant sip. "Okay, and if they don't come?" Orin queried. "We'll get a room here and figure it out," Christa said, bracing herself for the taste of the ale as she took another gulp. “Well, sounds like you’ve figured it out to the point of figuring it out.” he said, shrugging his shoulders. He stared at Christa for a moment before his eyes widened in delight. "Here's the food!" he exclaimed. Christa turned to see the barmaid placing an enormous amount of food on the table. Her eyes widened in shock at the sheer amount of it. It was enough to feed a small army. How he would manage to eat even just half of it, she had no idea. Before the barmaid could walk away, Orin handed her his empty glass. "More please," he said, not even bothering to ask if Christa wanted a refill. Christa stared at him in disbelief. The audacity of this man, expecting her to pay for all of this! Orin picked up his fork and knife, ready to dig in to the food. "Where are my manners?" he said, pausing with his utensils ready. "Shall I wait for your food to come too? Did you order something?" Christa took a deep breath, trying to suppress her annoyance at the realisation that he didn’t order her any food. "No, I did not," she said bluntly. And with that, Orin started to eat whilst Christa took another sip of her drink hoping her palate had adjusted somewhat since the last. But yet again her tastebuds recoiled at the acrid bitterness. The ale was still rough and earthy, with a hint of sweetness that did little to mask its unyielding bite; despite this Christa was determined to soldier through. "This one is for you, Jax," she thought to herself as she took another sip. Next Chapter

As Orin and Christa arrived at the heart of Cineris, the sun had already risen high in the sky, casting its warm light upon the bustling marketplace. It was a sight to behold, with vendors showing off their wares and street performers vying for the attention of passersby. The scent of roasted meat and fresh bread wafted through the air, filling the senses of all who wandered through the market's winding alleys. Orin couldn’t remember the last time he had a proper meal, so he stared on lustfully at the different foods as he walked by. He had half a mind to ask Christa to steal some food for him, but this was not a time to be taking unnecessary risks. He had lasted five years on a near empty stomach, just a little longer wouldn’t hurt. Despite the changes that had taken place since Orin's last visit to Cineris, there was one thing that remained unchanged in those five years: the great fountain of Motriar. It stood tall in the centre of the marketplace, its marble gleaming white in the sun's rays. The statue atop the fountain, depicting the arrogant god of fire with his arms outstretched, incited a deep anger within Orin. To him, the statue was nothing more than a symbol of the gods' tyranny, demanding the worship of mortals who were, in truth, no better than them. The statue's eyes seemed to bore into him, daring him to challenge its supposed superiority. Water cascaded down from its outstretched hands, a constant reminder of the god's power. Carvings etched into the marble surrounding the fountain depicted the god's supposed victories over other gods, a display of vanity that sickened Orin to his core. Despite his loathing for the statue and all it represented; the fountain's basin offered a respite for weary travellers. Made of the same pure marble as the rest of the fountain, it was a place where people could rest and refresh themselves in the cool water. Orin looked up at the fountain, his face contorted with disgust. “At least you can smell it too, you still smell like shit," Christa remarked nonchalantly, unaware of how her words stung. "You could have said it kindlier!” Orin snapped back. During their journey to Cineris, Orin had managed to wash himself in the river while Christa had stolen a change of clothes from a nearby cottage. Perhaps the stench of his own filth had become ingrained in his skin. A smell he had gotten used to during his three years in the prison. It will probably take a few more washes to get rid of the smell entirely he thought. Regardless, he lifted his arm to check for himself and just as he thought, nothing. Christa was silent for a moment, as if considering her response. “Sorry,” she replied eventually. "On the bright side, you'll blend right in with where we're headed next." Orin raised an eyebrow. "And what's there?" “The lower district, smells like shit there too.” Christa laughed. Orin was glad to see that Christa was at least still able to make jokes considering what had happened. So he though he’d at least humour her. “Ah, looks like we’ll both fit in then, they make the houses small over there.” Orin quipped in return. Christa shot a deadly stare back at him, her laugh fading. “Let’s go.” she said finally, deciding to ignore him. “Let’s see what’s happening over there.” She can dish it out, but she can’t take it. Typical. Orin followed her, still laughing and pleased with his joke. Adjacent to the marketplace was the main square of Cineris, which was encircled by impressive buildings fashioned of white stone. The most notable of these was the city hall, a grand structure with a towering clock tower that overlooked the entire square. There seemed to be a crowd forming along the road that separated the main square from the marketplace. Orin couldn’t help but feel a little excited. Maybe it was a performer, it had been a while since Orin had been allowed to enjoy the small pleasures in life. The four walls of the prison did very little in the way of entertainment, and the other inmates even less. The crowd grew louder and more frenzied and eventually when they reached the front, Christa stopped in her tracks, her body shaking. Orin felt a knot form in his stomach as he also realised what was going on, it was the Tressa family cavalcade passing through in the direction of the Estate. Obviously here to just show off, the route through the marketplace wasn’t even the fastest to the estate from the main city gates. The Tressa family's carriage was ornately decorated with red accents that represented fire, and gold that represented the family's wealth. The carriage was being guided through the streets by expert riders, while three soldiers on horseback led the way. Inside the carriage, the members of the Tressa family sat in quiet splendor, their clothing exuding arrogance. Magnus Tressa, the head of the family, was a tall and imposing figure with hair as bright as a flame. He sat at the head of the carriage, his piercing gaze surveying the people of Cineris with a sense of superiority. His wife, Rowena Tressa, too looked on at the crowd with her hand on her face, seemingly bored and unappreciative of the praises from the citizens. The children also sat in the carriage towards the rear, the youngest son, Alis, with black hair, like his mother and the daughter, Ruby, with red hair like her father. Orin looked down at Christa and seen her fists were clenched tightly, her nails digging into her palms as she too seethed with anger. That’s when Orin realised that this pure and unadulterated hatred he had for the Tressa family, was something Christa shared with him. But, right now as they are, there is very little they can do about it. Afraid she would do something in this moment, putting herself in danger, Orin placed his hand on her shoulder. “Let’s go.” he said, finally. Next Chapter

At first, Christa couldn’t believe it. It was as if she were in a nightmare. But the bitter reality of loss soon washed over her, leaving her gasping for breath. Memories of her parents passing away was something she had suppressed a long time ago in the deepest parts of her mind, back then she was too young to remember, and too innocent to even comprehend the weight of death. She had cried and begged to see her mother and father again, not knowing that death only takes but never returns. Eventually the tears stopped, and she forgot. That’s when Jax became her everything, but now he too was taken away. Everything happened too quickly for her to process, one moment, her brother was pierced by blue fire, and the next moment, the landscape blurred past her at breakneck speed, the wind slapping against her face. From the Tressa estate, down the hill and over the river Vira. The whole time, she hoped it was all just a dream, a hallucination, but it wasn’t. Jax lay lifeless on the autumn leaves next to the riverbank, his body charred and black. His hands clutching a box tightly. As the night drew to a close, the sun began to rise, illuminating Jax's features. Christa cried. In her mind’s eye, she saw it all unfold again and again: her brother engulfed in blue flames, Inigo’s hand piercing through his chest like a spear. Despite the agony, Jax managed to smile at her one last time before departing this world. “I think we should be out of the range of the Tressa’s blessing beacon.” Orin said, interrupting Christa’s thoughts. He was on the floor, and seemed out of breath, his body soaking wet. Only now did Christa notice that he was back to his shrivelled state. Skin and bones again, but worse than when Christa had first found him in the prison. “Even though they can’t detect us anymore, they’ll have an idea of the direction we went in.” Orin continued; his voice breathless. “So, we can’t keep walking in a straight line if we want to avoid them.” Christa watched as Orin stood up and approached her. He reached out to take her arm, but she flinched away, her eyes and mind returning back at Jax. She blamed herself, wondering if things would have been different if she had waited for his signal or bothered to find out what Orin looked like before they had started. But things weren't different, and the weight of Jax's death was heavy on her heart. “I’m sorry, I understand it’s difficult,” Orin said softly bringing her back to the moment. “But we must get going soon. Before we do that, we need to do something about your arm.” Christa looked down at her right arm and noticed that it was still bleeding from where the guard had sliced her earlier. Orin reached forward again, but this time Christa didn’t flinch. Orin ripped Christa’s sleeve off and began to tighten it around her wound to help alleviate the bleeding. After a long silence, Christa finally spoke, “Thank you.” she said, with a sad face. “No need,” Orin replied. “It should last at least until we get back in to the city. Then you’ll need to get it looked at properly.” “Not for my arm…” Christa paused. “Well, yes for my arm too. But also, for bringing Jax with us here.” Christa tried to let out a smile, but couldn’t. “Christa…”, Orin looked at her with sympathy, as though he was struggling with his next words. But Christa cut him off. “I already know,” she said, observing Orin's weakened state. He had most likely used up all the power from the fire just to bring her and Jax here. Between the two of them, with her wounded arm and Orin’s powerless state, they wouldn’t be able to take Jax any further than this. “I’m just glad that I’ll be able to give him a proper send-off.” Christa bent down and took the box from Jax’s hands and covered him in dry leaves. Orin also bent down and with the last remnants of his power, he set the leaves alight. Pushing every last bit of his power in to it until there was nothing left but ash. Christa stood there, watching the ashes of her beloved brother being swept away by the river, now clutching the box that Jax had possessed over. In that moment, she made a promise that the dream they had planned together for so long, she would see it through. Next Chapter

Jax’s vision blurred as he struggled to his feet, every movement sent pain pulsing through his body. He gritted his teeth, determined to keep going, but his legs trembled beneath him, threatening to give up on him at any moment. How long had he been lying there, letting his life slip away, he wondered? It felt like hours, but it couldn't have been more than a few minutes. The courtyard was eerily quiet, and Jax's nerves were on edge. He couldn’t afford to get caught, not here. He was a brother before he was a thief, so he was willing to do whatever it took to keep his little sister safe, to carve out a better life for her. He looked around and there, strewn across the floor, lay everything he needed to provide her with that life. Jewels, gems, treasures of every kind scattered about like worthless trinkets. “Shit!”he spat out. It had fallen from his pack and he could no longer take it all with him. He decided to at least take what he can, so with a trembling grip, he clutched the box he had taken from the treasury earlier, the weight of it dragging him down. He had to get this box to Christa, If he had any hope at changing her life for the better, he had to reach her. He had to reach the fire she had ignited earlier that night. He forced himself to take a step forward, then another, his blood leaving a trail behind him. The pain coursing through his body was almost unbearable. But the adrenaline pushed him forward. Suddenly, he saw them - the guards, their armour gleaming in the moonlight. He froze, his heart racing. He hadn’t even heard them approach and not before long he was surrounded. He backed up against the fountain, box still clutched tightly in his hands. He felt the cool stone against his skin, a strange comfort in this moment of terror. He closed his eyes, trying to think of a way out, but nothing came to him. In that moment, Jax felt regret. He had dreamed of a better life for himself and Christa, of a future free from poverty and fear. But now, as he faced certain death, he realised that those dreams were empty if he didn't live to see them through. Jax’s thoughts turned to Christa, to the flames dancing in the distance. Grief washed over him, and he prayed she’d at least survived. “You didn’t really think you would get away with this did you?” a voice drawled. Jax opened his eyes to see a face sneering down at him, grinning, with brown eyes that seemed to stare deep in to his soul. A young man with rugged features and short, fiery red hair. Jax recognised the hair at once. He was a member of the Tressa family. But which one? They were supposed to be away from the city today. Jax felt a surge of fear, but he refused to show it. He had come too far and risked too much to let this arrogant nobleman intimidate him. Instead, Jax met the mans gaze steadily, holding his ground even as the guards closed in around him. He clutched the box even more tightly in his hands. The face looked down at the box with interest. "I see, you’ve come for Enguwa’s relic…” the man trailed off, a sly glint in his eyes. Jax had no idea what the Tressa was rambling on about, but he knew enough to remain still. He tried to keep his expression neutral, but he felt his heart pounding in his chest. The young nobleman turned his sight towards the blazing fire by the prison block that illuminated the night sky. "You know I have to kill you, right?" he said, his tone cold, but casual. “You’ve caused enough trouble today.” He turned to face Jax again, but this time, his smile even bigger. “Not that I want to, mind you. But I have to.” He crouched down to meet Jax at eye-level. “How would it look on me if I allowed you to get away? Father wouldn’t be pleased at all” He fixed Jax with a piercing stare as he placed his hand on Jax’s shoulder. Jax noticed a scar on the man's hand that continued up towards his arm, hidden into his sleeve. “Inigo Tressa?” Jax finally muttered under his breath, recognising the heir of the Tressa house. The Tressa heir's face twisted into a sneer. "Of course, you know who I am” he laughed. “I’m a big deal." Jax smiled despite the taste of blood in his mouth and spoke, “But, not a big deal enough to join Daddy at the divine summit today, are you? “ Inigo’s face hardened, his smile finally dropping for the first time since Jax had seen him. “You don’t understand anything, do you?” he spat, his grip tightening on Jax’s shoulder. A searing pain shot through Jax’s body causing him to cry out. “I’m the heir to the Tressa family…” Inigo continued, his voice rising with every word. “Everything you see here will be mine one day. I stayed behind because I’m the only one who can protect this place from people like you.” Inigo's hand grew hotter and hotter, as if he were channelling the very flames of hell into Jax’s shoulder. Jax shrieked in agony as he felt the fabric of his shirt melt in to his skin, his mind reeling with disbelief. The pain went on for longer than Jax could bear, but suddenly, a blinding light filled up the night sky. Startled, Inigo quickly shot up, releasing Jax’s shoulder. Jax gasped for breath, his shoulder throbbing with residual heat. The blazing fire that Christa had set earlier began to dance in the air. It twisted and turned, providing a spectacle of colours ranging from yellow to orange to red. Jax watched in amazement as the flames by the prison block converged into a single point, revealing a figure that seemed to glow from within. Inigo's face contorted in terror as he realised what was going on, his eyes widening in disbelief. “Orin…” He turned to face Jax again. “What have you done?” The guards trembled at the sound of Orin’s name as they too looked in the direction of the fire. “No!” Inigo screamed out repeatedly in anger, his eyes darting around frantically. “I’m supposed to protect this place. That’s why I’m here…” A blue fire began to form around Inigo’s hands, a flame that seemed to grow brighter by the second alongside his anger. Despite his situation, only Jax smiled as he looked ahead towards the prison block. He could see Christa standing there, seemingly unharmed. But before he could savour the moment, Inigo lunged at him, his hands wreathed in blue flames. "This isn’t funny!” he screamed. Jax closed his eyes, bracing for impact. The last thing he saw in his mind’s eye was Christa's face, smiling and full of hope. Then the flames consumed him, a fiery embrace that promised death. Despite the pain, he continued to smile. Because he realised that as long as Christa was safe, maybe all the money in the world didn't matter so much. Next Chapter

Orin had been laying in his cramped cell, the dank walls closing in around him. Hunger gnawed at his stomach, a constant companion in this place of despair. The guards, unyielding and silent, tossed him scraps of food, enough to keep him alive but never enough to satisfy. As days turned to weeks, and weeks to months, Orin lost all sense of time. He had resigned himself to his fate, believing that he would die in this wretched place. But then, a glimmer of hope appeared before him, in the form of a small, silver-haired woman with a fierce determination in her eyes. At first, Orin doubted that this slip of a girl could offer him any help. But as he watched her take down one of the guards, his doubts were cast aside. With newfound hope, he stepped forward as Christa opened his cell. "Well, I'll be damned," he exclaimed. "If I had to bet, my money would have been on the guard." Christa's lips curled into a playful grin. "Sorry, Orin, but I don't think you have any coin to spare," she quipped, her voice dripping with amusement. “You know, being a prisoner and all" Orin felt a flicker of warmth in his heart, a feeling he had not experienced in far too long. He now believed that he had a chance at escape, a chance at life. And for the first time in a long time, he dared to hope. “Ex-prisoner actually.” He stepped out of the cell and picked up the defeated guard’s sword “So what should I call you then little one?” “Christa, and I’m not little!” Christa snapped back, her eyes flashing with the same deadly light that she had used to defeat the guard. Orin couldn't help but laugh at her feisty spirit. "Let's get going then," he said, eager to escape. “Hey! What about us?” one of the prisoners screamed. The others stood with their hands holding on to their bars, their eyes filled with desperate hope. Orin watched as Christa bent down to search the guard, revealing a set of keys from his possession. She threw them over at one of the prisoners in the cell and said “Let yourself out and pass the keys along”. The prisoner scrambled for the keys as Christa turned to Orin “So, let’s get going shall we.” Orin could hear the frantic movement of guards nearby and looked at the prisoners with sad eyes. He knew that not all of them would make it out alive, but he took solace in the fact that they at least now had a fighting chance like he did. All thanks to this small girl and her kind heart. He looked down at the sword in his hand and lay it down on the ground. They may need it more than he does. Christa led the way, darting along, making sure to avoid any patrolling guards. Had she been any faster, Orin may not have been able to keep up he thought. He had forgotten what it felt like to move freely, to run with purpose. It was exhilarating. They passed through a maze of dark corridors, their footsteps echoing off the stone walls. Finally, they reached a small opening in the wall. Luckily no one had found the hole just yet. Christa pointed to the hole and signalled for Orin to crawl through. The hole was tiny, barely big enough for her petite frame to pass through. Had the guards cared to feed Orin even the tiniest bit more, even he would be too big for this hole. As Orin crouched down, he felt a wave of heat wash over him. It was a raging fire, one that had since lost control. "What's this, on the other side?" he asked, staring at the flickering light. His eyes were transfixed on the flames, as if they held some sort of mystical power. He turned to Christa, who was watching him intently as if searching for a reaction. "Did you do this?" he asked. "Yes, it was me. I set that fire a while ago," she replied, her voice laced with pride. Orin couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for the girl. Despite her size, she was definitely resourceful. "How were you planning on getting out if you hadn't found me?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. “That just wasn’t an option” she smiled. Orin laughed. Any doubt he had of this girl was completely erased. He turned back to the flames and peered through the hole. The fire was raging on the other side, warning anyone that got near. "Follow my lead," he instructed Christa, as he crawled towards the raging inferno. The fire should have been intense, but Orin seemed unfazed, almost as if he was one with the flames. As he passed through the hole, the fire seemed to bend and twist around him, as if it recognised him as its master. It created a safe path for Christa to follow, a path that was warm but not deadly. As she emerged on the other side of the hole, she could see that Orin was still absorbing all the fire on the other side. It was a spectacular light show, with flames of orange, red, and yellow swirling around him like a frenzied dance. Once skinny and skeletal, Orin now looked large, muscular, and full of energy. His skin glowed with an inner light, as if he had absorbed the essence of the flames and made it his own. Christa could feel the power emanating from him, like a force of nature that was both terrifying and awe-inspiring. For a moment, they stood there, surrounded by the dancing flames, as if they were the only two beings in the world. Then when the last of the fire had been absorbed, Orin turned to Christa, his eyes gleaming with a fierce determination. "Come." he said, his voice deep and commanding. Next Chapter

Christa's heart sank in to despair. "Not every bloody one of you can be Orin!" she bellowed. Realising the volume of her own voice, she turned her head to catch a glimpse of the slumbering guard. Fortunately, he was still snoring away. As she turned her attention back to the prisoners, she saw that they were all pressed up against the bars of their cells, desperate for her attention. "By the gods, I am Orin! Set me free!" one of them wailed, his voice rising to a desperate pitch. "The gods?" Christa laughed. "Orin hates the gods." The prisoner's face fell, and he retreated into the shadows of his cell. "Damn the gods, I hate them and everything they stand for," said the other prisoner, flashing his golden tooth. Christa spun around to face him, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. "You’re trying too hard," she retorted. She was at a loss for what to do. Never had she imagined a scenario where every inmate would claim to be Orin to secure their release. She couldn't possibly set them all free; the divine lock pick was a one-time use item, and time was running out. Suddenly the sound of a deafening explosion echoed through the prison block. She could take a guess as to what it was: The signal she was supposed to be waiting for this whole time. She spotted the guard at the end of the hallway waking up. Taken aback, he grabbed his sword and stumbled towards Christa. The guard was a large man, his armour clanking as he moved. With a grim determination, using her left hand she drew her dagger from the scabbard that was tied around her waist and took up a defensive stance. Fighting was not her strong suit; she knew that better than anyone else but she had no choice but to fight. She knew that the prison cells are cursed with an energy that restricts the use of blessings. This gave her some comfort knowing that the guard, without any divine advantages would at least be somewhat on her level, but was that enough? Christa ran towards the guard and they clashed, their blades ringing out as they slammed in to each other. Christa was quick on her feet. But the guard was strong and experienced with a reach advantage that she had no hope of overcoming with her dagger. She cried out in pain as his sword sliced through her right arm, drawing blood. She gritted her teeth and lunged forward, aiming for the guard's midsection. The guard saw the attack coming and parried with his sword, but Christa was too quick. The guard had only just woken up, so he was slow and sluggish. Christa used this to her advantage. She darted to the side and sliced her dagger across his leg, causing him to stumble and fall to the ground. Christa kicked the guard's sword out of reach and pointed her dagger at his throat. "Surrender," she said, her voice cold and deadly. She was breathing heavily. She had won the fight, but she knew this wasn’t where it ends. She couldn’t let her guard down. She had never killed before, and although she had no intention of doing so now, she needed to show her opponent that she was capable of it. The guard looked up at her, defeated. Sensing her deadly intent, he knew he had no chance against her. With a sigh, he raised his hands in surrender. Pressing her dagger against his neck, she demanded “Which one of these prisoners is Orin.” She got nothing but silence in return. She applied more pressure against his neck with her dagger until it produced blood. “Tell me!” The guard hesitated, his eyes darting around the cells. Finally, he pointed a shaking finger at one of the cells. "He's in there," he whispered. Christa shoved the guard's face into the dirt and bound his arms with a length of rope from her pack. "You'll be staying here for a while," she snarled. She turned towards the cell, her heart pounding in her chest. With a divine lock pick in hand, she easily unlocked the door and stepped inside. A figure emerged from the shadows, revealing a thin and dishevelled man with dark skin and long, dirty hair. Despite his weakened state, there was an aura about him. Christa knew immediately that this was the man she had been looking for. Next Chapter

Jax landed gracefully on the ground, his feet making a soft crunch as they landed on the shattered remains of what was once a magnificent glass window. He glanced around, half-expecting the guards to come crashing in at any moment, but none came. He could hear a commotion outside, most likely a reaction to his undignified entrance. But he was lucky, the door across from the window was secured shut, perfect for deterring any intruder, even the guards themselves seemed to have some trouble getting in. The Tressa family had clearly spared no expense in safeguarding their treasures. Jax knew that time was of the essence; they would inevitably break through, and he had to act fast. He hoped his entrance was at least enough to take some of the heat from Christa. If there’s anything that a noble family would value more than their prisoners, it would be their wealth. The room was a sight to behold, it was expansive, with high vaulted ceilings adorned with intricate carvings that seemed to glow in the soft candlelight. Tapestries in rich jewel tones lined the walls, their intricate patterns depicting scenes of war and power. ‘So, this is what it’s like to be rich?’ Jax was momentarily stunned by the sheer wealth on display, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy at the thought of owning even a fraction of it. That alone would be enough to give his sister the life she deserves. It was the treasure itself that caught Jax's attention. Golden bars of various sizes and shapes gleamed in the moonlight, their surfaces smooth and polished. The room was full of them, piled high in neat stacks and arranged in rows upon rows of shelves that stretched towards the ceiling. He walked forward, his eyes locked on the glittering gold, but he knew that he couldn't carry it all. Instead, he retrieved a small stone with an ancient symbol etched into its smooth surface from his pocket and placed it on one of the golden bars. The stone began to glow and sank into the solid gold until it disappeared completely. As Jax moved further into the room, his eyes darted from one valuable object to the next. Precious gemstones of every colour and size glittered in ornate bowls, and intricately crafted swords and daggers hung from hooks on the walls. Jax's fingers itched to touch the wealth that surrounded him distracting him yet again, but the growing uproar beyond the door snapped him back to reality. He needed to find something light yet valuable. Something he could carry down the wall. His eyes settled on a small box on a table in the corner of the room. At first glance, it appeared to be a simple trinket box, but Jax knew better. His years as a thief meant he had the ability to determine the value of an item by simply looking. The small box was exquisitely crafted, with intricate symbols etched into the dark, polished wood. Its surface shimmered in the flickering candlelight, giving the impression of a thousand tiny stars dancing across its surface. The lock, made of iron, was engraved with a series of twisting vines and thorns, as if it were a warning to any who dared to attempt to open it. Why would someone lock a box in a chamber brimming with gold unless the box held something even more precious than the gold? Jax approached the box with bated breath, to his relief it was light enough for him to carry down the estate wall and that’s when he decided. “This box is mine”. He quickly grabbed the box and placed it inside his pack, his heart racing with anticipation. He knew that he had to hurry and make his escape, but the commotion outside was growing louder by the second. Jax reached into his pack and retrieved a stick of dynamite. If him breaking the window of the treasury wasn’t distraction enough, this surely would be. He placed it carefully on the ground, lit the fuse and ran for the window. But not before he noticed a few gems that caught his eye, reflecting the moonlight. "It wouldn't hurt to take a little more," he thought to himself. Jax began to fill his pack with more treasure, his greed getting the better of him. He thought of all the things he and Christa could buy with this wealth. But his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the guards breaking down the door. He knew that he had to leave, and quickly. With a burst of adrenaline, Jax leapt out of the window, reaching for the rope he had prepared earlier that ran from the roof. But the explosion came before he managed to get a good grip. The shockwave left him disoriented, his ears ringing with the deafening boom. He fought to strengthen his grip on the rope, but his attempts to recover and rappel down the wall soon turned into an uncontrollable descent. If only he had known when to quit and not given in to his greed, he might have escaped the blast unscathed. For a moment, he felt weightless, like he was soaring through the air. But then the ground rushed up to meet him. Next Chapter

Christa stood alone in the midst of a dreary, dimly lit passageway, its icy chill seeping into her bones. She hated the cold. With a deep sense of regret, she gazed back at the fire through the gaping hole she had just squeezed through. The heat of the flames was unable to reach her any more. Though she missed the comfort of her little fire, she gathered her resolve and wished it well as she continued forward, further in to the cold. The dimly lit passageway seemed to shrink around her as she continued, the darkness closing in on her like a physical presence. A musty smell of mildew and decay filled the air. The walls were damp and slick with moisture, she made sure not to touch them as she made her way through. The flickering flames from the fire outside cast eerie shadows on the walls, adding to the already oppressive atmosphere. Christa's breath fogged in front of her as she struggled to keep her wits about her. She knew all too well why she and her brother had been chosen for this task. It was because they lacked the blessings that others in their world possessed. They were the descendants of a forgotten people, ignored by the gods or deemed unworthy of their favour. But in a world where blessings were everything, their lack of them had become a blessing in its own right, making them very good at what they do. Had they borne the mark of a blessing, they would have been detected long before they had even begun their mission. Eventually Christa arrived at the cells. They were lined up along a long corridor of thick iron bars, each one enclosing a small cell. The cells were barely large enough for a single person, and their floors were littered with straw that had long since turned grey and musty. The only light came from the moonlight through a small window at the end of the corridor, and underneath it sat a guard, fast asleep. With a steady gaze, Christa surveyed the slumbering prison guard realising with a hint of relief that her movements had gone unnoticed. Had the guard been awake, her fate would have been sealed and the mission, a failure. The plan had been for Jax to create a distraction, drawing the guards away from the prisoner's cell while Christa snuck in to free the prisoner. She realised with amusement that since the guard was there, Jax had most likely not given the signal yet. But she had already set the fire outside, and knew that it was only a matter of time before others took notice. She turned her attention back to the cells and behind the bars, she found the prisoners huddled in the shadows, their faces obscured by beards and matted hair. Some muttered to themselves, while others stared blankly ahead, their eyes haunted by fears of the future. The air was thick with the stench of sweat, urine, and despair. She held her breath to shield her from the smell and silently walked forward hoping to find the prisoner. But she had no idea what he looked like. Christa had a habit of never asking the questions that really mattered, a trait that often left her in difficult positions. What’s the signal? What does the prisoner look like? How can I tell him apart from the others? It was different from her usual thievery, where the worth of her loot was easily determined. In these cells, however, she saw only hopeless eyes staring back at her. With no other options, there was nothing she could do but ask. So, she repeatedly whispered “Orin?” as she walked past each cell. Eventually, a hoarse and scratchy voice from the cell where the corridor began responded “Who are you?”. The prisoner was a small man, thin and frail-looking, with a wild shock of hair and a beard that reached down to his chest. He looked up at Christa with eyes that glittered in the dim light, and for a moment, she was taken aback by the intensity of his gaze. “You don’t look like any of the guards I’ve seen walk through here before?” "I'm here to rescue a man named Orin," Christa replied, her heart racing with adrenaline. The man grinned, revealing a set of yellowed teeth. He had a single golden tooth in place of one of his canines. "Well then, let's be about it." Christa was overjoyed to have finally found the prisoner she was looking for. She reached the cell door and pulled out the divine lock pick that Jax had given her, her hands trembling with nerves. However, the joy didn’t last long because from the shadows of another cell, a voice spoke up. “No, I’m Orin”. And then followed another voice, declaring “I’m Orin. I’m the one you need to rescue.” Next Chapter

"Wait for my signal," Jax had whispered into Christa's ear before slipping away into the night, leaving her to ponder the meaning of those words. He was long gone before she realised that she had no idea what ‘the signal’ was. Ever since they were orphaned and left to fend for themselves on the streets, Christa and Jax had become no strangers to danger. They had learned to survive by their wits, and stealing was just another means of keeping themselves alive. But as they grew older, their ambitions grew as well. Survival alone was no longer enough, they dreamed of a life where they could enjoy the simple pleasures that most people took for granted: a warm bed, a roof over their heads, and regular meals. Despite the risks, they continued to take on increasingly daring jobs, honing their skills and building their reputation as cunning and fearless thieves. They stole from the rich and powerful, knowing that they had the most to gain and the most to lose. And now, even as teenagers, they found themselves tasked with a mission that would either make them legends, or leave them hanging dead. Christa was standing outside a prison block, her heart pounding with fear and excitement. The block was connected to a sprawling estate that belonged to the Tressa family, one of the most powerful in the country of Emberia. It was a family that inspired fear and respect in equal measure, and Christa knew that they were not to be trifled with. Despite the stark contrast between the luxurious estate and the prison block, Christa knew that they were connected in more ways than one. The Tressa family had a reputation for being ruthless, and the fact that they had a prison block on their estate was a testament to that fact. The imposing structure of the prison loomed over her, casting deep shadows across the cobblestone courtyard. The walls were made of rough, grey stone and were lined with thick iron bars. The gates were locked tight, and the only way in or out was through a hole in the wall that her and Jax had created. Christa waited anxiously by the hole in the wall, watching as the moon slowly made its way across the sky. The air was thick with anticipation, and every sound seemed to echo through the night like a warning. She knew that Jax was out there somewhere, setting things in motion and all she had to do was wait for the right moment to strike, wait for the signal. But as the minutes turned in to what felt like an eternity, doubt began to creep into her mind. What if he had been caught? What if something had gone wrong? What if the whole plan was nothing but a trap? She knew that she couldn't just sit there and wait any longer. She had a job to do, and she would see it through. Her and Jax’ dreams weren’t just idle fantasies, they were the driving force behind their thieving operations, the reason why they were willing to risk their lives. And so, she struck a match, the flame casting eerie shadows across the wall, and threw it to the ground. The fire burned bright, illuminating the darkness and signalling her intent. There was no turning back now. Christa took a deep breath and crawled into the prison block; her heart pounding even harder than before. Jax crouched on the roof of the Tressa estate, if the schematics he had pored over were to be believed, the Tressa family treasury was just beneath his feet in the room below. He gazed out over the sprawling city of Cineres out in to the distance. The lights of the city twinkled like stars, and the sound of carriages and carts could be heard in the distance. Tressa estate stood at the top of a hill, with a river that ran alongside it in the valley towards and through the heart of the city, dividing it in to two. Though Cineres looked grand from his high vantage point, he knew the reality of living there was not even close. He knew that the city was a harsh and unforgiving place, where the strong preyed upon the weak, where the wealthy lived in luxury while the poor struggled to survive. And he knew that he was a part of that system, whether he liked it or not. This estate offered a glimpse in to what it might look like to be on the other end of that system. The estate was luxurious, with a large mansion made of white marble that glittered in the moonlight. The gardens that surrounded the mansion were perfectly manicured, with fountains and statues that seemed to breathe life into the very air around them. The stables for the horses were made of the same grey stone as the prison block, but they were much larger and more ornate. Despite the fact that he was in the heart of the Tressa estate, Jax couldn't help but feel a sense of freedom as he admired the view. A portion of the freedom that he wanted for his little sister. But that sense of freedom was quickly replaced by a feeling of dread as he noticed a fire near the prison block. Jax was a guy of precision, a planner who prided himself on executing each step of his schemes flawlessly. He had instructed Christa to wait for his signal, and yet she had gone ahead and started without any indication from him. He seethed with anger as he gazed down at the fire from the roof, his eyes fixed on the tiny figure of his sister crawling into the prison block. "That damn fool," he muttered under his breath, his hands clenching into fists. He had worked tirelessly to craft the perfect plan, and now she had gone and ruined everything. But he couldn't afford to lose his temper now, not when his target was just meters away. He took a deep breath and composed himself, his mind racing with the possibilities. Though this was a mission to free a prisoner, there were also treasures to be had, riches beyond their wildest dreams. And Jax was just as greedy as he was meticulous. He lowered himself down from the roof, his hands gripping the parapet tightly. He had planned to enter quietly, to avoid detection so he could take what he wanted before causing a distraction. But that was no longer an option. Christa's impulsive actions had forced his hand, he needed to distract the guards from the prison block now. Jax swung himself down from the rooftop, his body slamming into the window of the treasury with all the force he could muster. "To hell with the plan!" Next Chapter