Prophet Mirror's POV

The mist hung heavy as Prophet Mirror crouched behind a boulder, his hawk, Shadowwing, circling silently above. The hearing had ended, but Kaelon’s smirk lingered in his mind, that black stone pulsing in his grip like a heartbeat. It wasn’t just power he wanted—it was control. Prophet’s juju sharpened his ears, catching Kaelon’s low hiss near the eastern gate: “The boy’s power is too strong to waste. We take him tonight—force it out before Wolo hides him. And Aanya—she’s tied to him through Old Brass, through that orphanage. If she meddles, we’ll use her too.”

A scarred minion nodded, chains glinting in his hands. “Bound, he’s nothing.”

Prophet’s chest tightened. Zuri, Aanya, Kente—all kids from Old Brass, tangled in something bigger than them. He whispered to Shadowwing, “Find Wolo. Hurry.” The hawk vanished into the blue-lit night.

Miss Wolo's POV

Miss Wolo paced the stone hall, her staff tapping a steady rhythm. Zuri sat against the wall, wrists still roped, his red eyes glinting like embers. She’d moved him here after the hearing—safer, she’d told the Priestess—but the air felt charged, like trouble brewing.

“We’re not waiting for Kaelon,” she said, glancing at Anya. Her second-in-command’s silver eyes flickered as she traced juju runes, a shimmering veil cloaking the room. Miss Wolo cut Zuri’s ropes with her staff. “I saw you fight at Old Brass, Zuri. You protected Kente back then. I trust that.”

Zuri rubbed his wrists, voice low. “That was a long time ago.”

“Not to me,” she said, lava eyes fierce. “Stay close.” Shadowwing swooped in, screeching. “Prophet,” she muttered. “It’s starting.”

Zuri's POV

Zuri followed Miss Wolo and Anya through a hidden passage, the walls glowing with blue juju lines. His pendant—Old Brass’s gift, the one he shared with Kente and Aanya—burned warm against his chest. Orange sparks flickered in his hands, unasked for, wild. He remembered the orphanage: Aanya’s quiet songs, Kente’s goofy grin, nights whispering dreams under Old Brass’s dust. That bond kept him grounded, even now.

The air turned icy. “Something’s off,” he warned, power surging. Before Miss Wolo could respond, the wall exploded—Kaelon’s scarred minion stepped through, chains swinging, the black stone’s light twisting shadows into claws.

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“You’re ours, boy,” the minion growled.

Zuri’s power roared, orange light flaring. He saw Aanya’s face in his mind—her promise to find him if they ever got split. He wouldn’t let Kaelon break that.

Kente's POV

Kente jolted awake, pendant buzzing. Zuri’s voice from the hearing echoed—tired, defiant. He grabbed his stick, sneaking past Chioma and Tamara, drawn toward the Priestess’s quarters. Near a side gate, he overheard Kaelon’s men: “Wolo’s moving him. We hit the passage. Grab Aanya too—she’s from Old Brass, tied to the boy.”

His heart sank. Old Brass—the orphanage where Zuri taught him to fight, where Aanya patched their scrapes with juju and a smile. Kaelon knew. Kente turned to run, but his boot scraped stone. “Who’s there?” a man barked. He bolted, panic driving him.

Chioma and Tamara's POV

Chioma woke to an empty cot. “Kente’s gone,” she hissed, shaking Tamara. His shell glowed as they tracked him through the misty streets. “He’s scared,” Tamara whispered.

They found him sprinting, two men on his heels. “Tamara, light!” Chioma ordered. The shell flared, blinding the pursuers. Chioma tackled one, pinning him with Old Brass strength. Kente gasped, “They’re after Zuri—and Aanya! From the orphanage!”

Aanya's POV

Aanya lingered near the passage, silver eyes glowing as she traced juju to stay hidden. She’d overheard Kaelon’s plan—Zuri, Kente, her—all Old Brass kids, marked by its dust. The passage erupted, Zuri’s orange light clashing with Kaelon’s stone. Miss Wolo fought, Anya’s shield shimmered, but the stone drained Zuri’s power.

Aanya stepped out, runes blazing on her palms. “Stop!” she shouted, flinging blue-green energy at a minion. “You won’t take my family.” She saw Zuri’s red eyes widen—recognition, relief. Old Brass bound them, stronger than Kaelon’s chains.

The minion sneered. “Orphan brat.” He lunged, but she held firm.

Zuri’s power exploded, orange waves crashing into the minion, cracking stone. Miss Wolo yelled, “Control it!” but it drowned her out. Anya’s shield blocked debris, Kaelon’s stone pulsed, stealing light. Kente burst in with Chioma and Tamara—Kente swinging his stick, Chioma slamming a minion down, Tamara’s shell pulsing chaos.

“Kente!” Zuri rasped, their pendants glowing in sync. Aanya’s voice cut through: “Kaelon, you’re no protector—you’re a Harvester!” Her juju flared, shoving Kaelon’s men back. Miss Wolo’s staff unleashed a heat wave, silencing the fight.

Resolution

Anya dropped her shield, trembling but resolute. “That woke everyone,” she said as footsteps thundered above. Miss Wolo pulled Zuri up, Kente rushing to his side, Aanya close behind. “Old Brass holds us,” she whispered, silver eyes on Zuri’s red ones.

The Priestess arrived, furious. “What happened?”

“Proof,” Miss Wolo said. “Kaelon attacked. Zuri, Aanya, Kente—they fought back. They’re Old Brass, and they’re ours.”

The Priestess eyed the trio—their pendants, their scars. “Emergency meeting. Now.”

Kente gripped Zuri’s hand, Aanya smiling softly. “We’re safe,” Kente said. Zuri nodded, but the power hummed, untamed, whispering of costs to come.