Aventurine's gaze met big, fearful yet innocent eyes staring up at him, instantly bringing him back to his own harrowing past. The stench of the cell, a scent he thought he had left behind forever, now filled his senses once more.

He hadn't woken up that morning with the intention of rescuing one of the many enslaved children, but here he was. He knelt down and sighed, careful not to frighten the child that tensed up like a skittish dear.

"Are you cold?" His eyes fell on the freshly burned tattoo on the child's collarbone, sending a shiver down his spine, as if he were gazing into a mirror of his past.

"Come on, don’t look at me like that," he murmured, more to himself than to the child. "You saw me get rid of those bad men, right? You're safe with me." His hands instinctively moved to his own neck, the familiar mark stirring old memories.