Henry woke up gasping, his eyes wide open as he looked around. He was still in the rotten cell.
"What!" he exclaimed.
But his hands were no longer bound by the Oryx chain. He glanced down at them, then slowly scanned the chamber. The darkness had softened.
"I see you're already awake, warlock," said the man, now more visible than he had been the night before. He froze the moment he noticed Henry's free hands.
"Your hands!" he gasped.
Henry stared at them, despair creeping across his face as he recalled what he had traded to gain his freedom.
"Hurry," the man urged. "Let me out!"
Henry gave him a stern look. The darkness had now faded almost completely, and they could finally see each other clearly.
"What are you thinking?" the man said sharply. "You can't get out of here on your own. I'm the only one who can get you out. So free me!"
The man hollered for the second time. "Let us out of here before the prison guards get here—it's already morning!"
Henry could hear footsteps echoing through the walls, growing closer.
"Fine," he finally sighed.
He raised his hands, concentrating. A spell formed as he muttered in the sorcerer's tongue. Blue energy coiled around his palm, weaving like threads of light.
Then he unleashed it toward the door.
The blast struck the iron gate violently, tearing the door off its hinges.
He was out. Henry cast the same spell again, but this time it only bent the metal, tearing a narrow hole through it.
"Good," the man remarked, revealing his legs.
Henry looked up in surprise, only now realizing the man was also chained with Oryx chains.
"What are you looking at? Free me!" the man snapped. "You didn't expect me to give you words of encouragement when we're facing the same fate, did you?"
"I wasn't looking for encouragement," Henry retorted.
He knelt, gripping the chains. Lowering his voice, he whispered in the sorcerer's tongue.
Unlock
The word came out less like speech and more like a wordless breath.
The chains around the man loosened.
Before Henry could react, the man shoved him aside and ran out of the cell.
"Hey!" Henry shouted as he stumbled to the side, catching his balance before breaking into a run after him. He burst out of the chamber and into a narrow staircase lined with flickering fire torches on either side, their light casting restless shadows along the walls. "Wait up!" he called, his voice echoing as he hurried upward.
The sound of footsteps ahead grew louder with every step he took, and as he neared the small door just a few strides above, he began to hear voices.
"We've a loose prisoner!" a man shouted, the corridor erupted into chaos.
Henry knew he could not afford to be trapped in the staircase. He pushed himself harder, his pulse racing as the thunder of approaching steps closed in to the doorway. Suddenly, a blast of fire roared through the corridor beyond the door, followed by sharp, agonized cries.
"Aaah—"
He reached the doorway just as a jet of flames tore past, narrowly missing him as it surged down the corridor. He paused for a split second, the heat searing against his skin, then lunged forward the instant the fire cleared.
When he stepped into the corridor, he was met with a grim sight. Bodies lay scattered along the passage, crumpled and motionless, as the air still shimmered with the fading heat of the blaze.
"What are you waiting for?" It was the man from the cell. "Hurry, they're coming!"
More noise surged down the corridor toward them, growing louder with every second, until it sounded like a thousand men were charging straight in their direction.
"Damn it!" Henry cursed as he ran after the man.
The soldiers were still on their heels, their thunderous footsteps shaking the walls around them. Moments later, Henry realized he had run straight into a dead end. The path ended abruptly, and the man he had been following had vanished without a trace.
The roar of the pursuing men crashed over him like a lightning strike, and when he turned, a mass of soldiers was already closing in, their swords drawn and ready to cut him down.
Henry knew his execution would be immediate the moment they reached him, so he forced himself to think. Gripping at the last thread of desperation, he stretched out his hands and spoke in the sorcerer's tongue.
Storm
The word left his lips as little more than a whisper, yet a violent hurricane burst from his hands and threw the soldiers backwards with overwhelming force.
When Henry finally lowered his arms, no one remained standing.
He stared at his hands in shock. The spell itself was not new to him, but wielding it with such terrifying power should have been impossible.
As he stood there, still reeling from his victory, another wave of soldiers could be heard closing in down the corridor. He turned toward the wall, considering blasting through it the same way he had the soldiers, but he quickly dismissed the idea, knowing it could be far thicker than it appeared.
As he searched for another way out, his eyes dropped to the ground, and he caught sight of a manhole sealed with a heavy metal lid at his feet.
He gaped.
All that time, he had wondered where the man from the cell had disappeared to, yet the answer had been right beneath him all along. There was no time left to dwell on his oversight.
He seized the iron lid, dragged it open, and slipped into the darkness below.