The Shackles and The Sunshine

The damp chill of the dungeon seeped into Aiden's bones as he leaned against the rough stone wall, his chains rattling with every slight movement. He had lost count of the days—weeks?—since the soldiers had dragged him here. Without sunlight, time blurred into an endless void of darkness.

The only sounds were the distant drip of water and the occasional shuffle of rats scurrying across the floor. Sometimes, faint cries echoed from other prisoners, a haunting reminder that he was not alone in this pit of despair.

But Aiden didn't cry. He refused to.

He stared at his hands, covered in grime but unscarred from the flames he used to summon. Back in the village, fire had felt like a friend—a part of him as natural as breathing. Now, he felt severed, powerless without the sun to fuel his gift.

The screech of rusty hinges pulled him from his thoughts. The dungeon door swung open, flooding the corridor with dim torchlight. A shadow moved toward his cell, and Aiden braced himself, his fists clenching.

The figure stopped in front of the bars—a girl, no older than him. She held a wooden tray in her hands, balancing a meager meal of bread and water. Her face was pale, framed by messy brown hair that fell just above her shoulders. Her eyes, a deep shade of green, flickered with curiosity and pity as they met his.

"Are you going to sit there glaring, or are you hungry?" she asked, her voice soft but firm.

Aiden hesitated. He didn't trust her—why would he? She was part of this place, wasn't she? But the gnawing hunger in his stomach won the battle, and he gave a small nod.

The girl knelt, sliding the tray through a gap in the bars. "Here," she said. "It's not much, but it's better than nothing."

Aiden reached for the bread, his chains scraping against the stone. He tore off a piece and shoved it into his mouth, barely tasting it.

"What's your name?" she asked, sitting cross-legged outside the cell.

He paused, swallowing hard. "Why do you care?"

The girl shrugged. "I don't, really. But it's better than listening to the rats."

For a moment, Aiden said nothing, his eyes narrowing as he studied her. She didn't wear the dark armor of the soldiers, nor the heavy robes of the dungeon's overseers. Her plain tunic and scuffed boots marked her as a servant—a girl who likely had no more freedom than he did.

"Aiden," he said at last, his voice hoarse from disuse.

She smiled, a small but genuine gesture. "I'm Cara."

---

Over the next few days, Cara returned like clockwork, bringing Aiden his meals. She didn't speak much at first, content to sit quietly while he ate. But as the days turned to weeks, her presence became a strange comfort in the suffocating darkness.

She told him bits and pieces about herself: how she had been sold to the castle as a child, forced to work in the kitchens before being reassigned to the dungeons. It was thankless work, she said, but at least she wasn't on the streets.

Aiden listened but rarely shared anything in return. The weight of his past felt too raw, too dangerous to speak aloud. Still, he couldn't deny the flicker of warmth he felt when she was near—a faint reminder of the sunlight he longed for.

One day, as Cara set down his tray, she glanced at his chains. "Do they ever let you out of here?"

"No," Aiden replied flatly.

She frowned, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "What did you do to end up here?"

Aiden's jaw tightened. He hadn't told her about his powers, and he didn't intend to. "They burned my village," he said instead. "Killed my family. I guess they thought locking me up would finish the job."

Cara's eyes softened. "I'm sorry," she said quietly.

He looked away, the familiar rage bubbling beneath his skin. "Don't be. I'll get out of here one day. And when I do…" His voice trailed off, his fists clenching.

Cara studied him for a moment, her expression unreadable. "You can't fight them alone," she said. "The kingdom—they're too powerful."

"Then I'll burn them to the ground," Aiden snapped, his voice rising.

The words hung in the air, the raw intensity in his tone startling even him. He turned to see Cara watching him with a mix of fear and something else—something like determination.

"I hope you do," she said softly. "But don't lose yourself in the process."

---

As the days passed, Aiden began testing his powers in secret. By positioning himself under the faint rays of sunlight that filtered through a crack in the dungeon's ceiling, he could summon tiny sparks—nothing like the flames he had wielded before, but enough to remind him of what he was capable of.

He practiced when no one was watching, fanning the sparks into small, controlled flames before extinguishing them. Each success stoked the fire of his resolve.

Cara noticed the change in him. "You're planning something," she said one evening, her voice low.

Aiden didn't deny it. "I can't stay here forever."

She hesitated, then leaned closer to the bars. "If you escape… take me with you."

Her words caught him off guard. "Why would you want to come with me?"

Cara's green eyes met his, unwavering. "Because there's nothing for me here. And because I think you'll need someone to remind you not to burn the whole world down."

For the first time in years, Aiden felt the corners of his mouth twitch into the faintest of smiles.

"Deal," he said.