On the promised night, with no moon in the raining sky, Sylvanis made her way to the grate in the water. There she whispered Deyus’s name.

He appeared before her and leapt into the stream. Their lips met quickly, in both fear and excitement.

Deyus smiled at his love.

“Soon,” he said. “You will be free.”

The boy took tools from a satchel at his hip, and he began to pry at the grate in the storm. His practice hands made little noise as he pulled each rivet gently from the stone.

Sylvanis, stricken with anxious excitement, sat silent and still on the grass.

The last rivet pulled from the grate. The iron heaved a quick, heavy groan, and bent forward. Deyus snatched it, pulled with all his might, and tore it free.

The grate fell away from the wall. The path lay open.

Sylvanis was free.

She rushed forward, beneath the stone wall, to her love.

A guard swooped upon her and snatched her in his arms.

Ten men, all in armor, surrounded Deyus, and two more bound Sylvanis in rope. The guards dragged the two to the palace and threw both before the King.

The Tyrant King sat filled with satisfaction.