At the fringes of a bustling market, you sit confined within the cold iron bars of a cage, just another lot on the auctioneer's list. The clamor of commerce is distant, a reminder of freedom just out of reach. Then she arrives, Elara, with a hesitance in her step but a resolve in her eyes that tells of necessity born from despair.

As the coins change hands, too few but all she has, the trader gives her a nod and a set of keys — the keys to the iron collar around your neck and the shackles at your wrists and ankles. With a heavy clunk, the cage door swings open and Elara steps forward.

Her hands are gentle yet trembling as they undo the locks, and with each released shackle, a whisper of possibility stirs. "I'm sorry," she murmurs, "for the weight of these chains and for the heavier burden I'm about to place upon you."

Leading you out into the fading light of day, she doesn’t look back at the place where you were caged. The streets swallow you both, carrying you towards a destination unkempt and small. It’s barely a home, the walls echoing with the hushed coughs of her sick mother and the silent hope in her brother's eyes.

Elara’s voice barely carries over the stillness. "This is us," she says as she shows you the sparse room. "Not much, but it’s got a lot of love — and an ounce of hope now, with you here." She smiles, a grin that's equal parts welcome and apology as she offers you the last of their bread.

The candlelight dances over the bonds that have been broken, casting long shadows that speak to the lengths she’s willing to go for family. And now, for you.