Mela trailed silently behind them as they descended the cold stone stairs to Acarias's lab, her footsteps barely making a sound. The air was heavy with tension. Once the door closed behind them, Yamin slipped in quietly, her heart pounding so hard she thought it might burst. She stayed near the entrance, her eyes darting toward Jasmine, desperate for any news about Tony's fate.
When their eyes met, something softened in Yamin's expression — genuine concern and an ache she couldn't hide. "How is he? Do you have any updates on how he's holding up?" Her voice was low, trembling slightly with worry.
Jasmine took a step forward, her tone gentle but resolute. "You care about him, don't you? It's alright." She paused, searching Yamin's face. "I'll speak with you soon, but first, I have to see the Counselor — Old Wills. You should rest in my room for now. Come with me." Without waiting for a reply, she led Yamin through the winding halls.
Yamin sank into the chair Jasmine offered, but her nerves were frayed, and her thoughts tangled. She loved Tony — more deeply than she'd ever imagined possible — yet she didn't fully understand how that feeling had taken root so fiercely. The thought of him behind bars, trapped and alone, twisted her insides.
Down the corridor, Jasmine summoned a maid with a quiet, firm command. "Find the Counselor. I need to speak with him privately."
Jasmine waited in silence, the seconds stretching long as the maid hurried away.
"Yes, mi'lady. He's available and on his way," came the humble reply.
In one of the secluded chambers — places shrouded in secrecy where even the guards dared not linger — Jasmine prepared for the meeting. The room was dim but orderly, every detail attended to. When Old Wills arrived, he was ushered inside without ceremony.
"I was just speaking with Commander Verde," the Counselor began, settling into the conversation like a man used to weighty matters.
Jasmine's voice was steady and respectful as she asked, "Have you heard from the blacksmith?"
"Yes. The materials have been delivered."
"But they were expected yesterday," she pressed gently.
"That delay was beyond their control — the handleman was late," he explained, his tone patient.
Jasmine's expression hardened, and her voice dropped to a serious register. "That's not the real reason I requested this meeting. Yamin has proposed the release of that young man — Tony. He was found with the escapee."
The Counselor's brow furrowed, confusion flickering across his face. "There must be a compelling reason for such a request."
Their discussion peeled back layers of uncertainty, and soon clarity began to dawn on him.
"This case deserves a thorough review. Tony hasn't been sentenced yet. We will declare him innocent and release him into your care. From there, your plan for him to support you can proceed."
"How long will this take? When can we expect the decision?" Jasmine asked, urgency creeping into her voice.
"Two days. That should be sufficient for a full investigation."
They shook hands — a silent, weighty pact — and then went their separate ways.
Jasmine hurried back to relay the news to Yamin. Relief flooded through her like a warm tide. Just two days — she repeated the thought over and over, clinging to it as hope.
Yamin's feelings for Tony ran deeper than she dared admit, but the fear of her sister discovering how vulnerable love had made her was overwhelming. Even her plea for Tony's release risked exposing the truth. She resolved to hide it all away, locking her heart behind a mask of indifference.
It was the perfect strategy — an advantage carefully disguised as a clever trick. To everyone, her actions would look like a ploy to lure Tony as Jasmine would see it. But beneath it all, it was love — fragile and fierce — a flame that could turn to bitter hate if not guarded carefully.
Now the heavy burden of planning the rescue fell to Elsie, Skyler, Mela, and Z-12. Elsie gathered all the essentials they would need, while Skyler and Mela baked fresh buns and biscuits. The room soon filled with the comforting, warm scent of freshly baked goods. Their mother was away, probably chatting with friends for hours — or maybe even longer.
Once everything was arranged, Elsie carefully packed the baskets, her hands steady but her heart pounding. Then, they sprayed Portion X over every piece of food — the buns, the biscuits — making sure each was coated evenly and perfectly. .
They covered the baskets with thick cloths to keep the warmth in. Outside, the sky blazed with the last glow of orange as dusk settled like a soft whisper. The city grew still, every sound muffled. No one wandered the streets, only the faint flutter of birds drifting silently overhead. The silence was thick — as if the whole world were holding its breath.
But Portion X was powerful — laced with a sleep-inducing poison that crept through the air. Elsie's eyelids fluttered, and she swayed slightly, fighting the heavy pull of drowsiness as she tightened the cloth over the baskets.
"Elsie!" Z-12's hand caught her arm firmly but gently. He pressed a small vial into her palm — a shimmering green liquid. The antidote. He had prepared it carefully, anticipating this moment.
She swallowed it quickly. Within moments, the haze lifted. Her balance steadied, her eyes brightened, and her focus snapped back into place.
Taking a deep breath, she moved quietly toward the door.
It creaked open slowly.
This was no ordinary night.
This was the beginning of a new story — one that would unravel tightly wound secrets and dare to reclaim what others had abandoned as lost.