"W-Whoa," Zayn murmured, watching as the last of the thugs dropped like a sack of potatoes. "You... How did you..."

Three thugs had cornered him and his little sister Mayna in a back alley of the slums, snatched the three copper they'd made off the herbs they'd foraged, and struck Zayn when he'd tried to protest that he needed the coin to buy bread for the girl. Searing pain had shot through his face, sending him reeling; one second he was on the floor, reaching for his sister to protect her, and the next second, he saw one of his attackers go down. Then the other, then the third.

"Zayn!" Mayna exclaimed, rushing over to her brother and throwing her arms around him. "Are you okay?!" Her voice trembled slightly, her face wet with tears.

Zayn reflexively returned the gesture; his wide eyes were glued to his savior. "I-I'm fine, May," he said. "You?"

"Yeah." Mayna pulled back and sniffled, wiping her eyes and nose with the back of her tattered sleeve.

As their mysterious benefactor stepped closer, both children flinched, the boy's arms tightening protectively around the girl. They stared at the figure, confused and afraid. Being attacked in the slums of the capital in this day and age, when monsters were plentiful, food was scarce and kindness scarcer still, wasn't uncommon. Being saved with no strings attached was. Zayn had heard the stories of ill-intentioned people snatching children to be sold into slavery; he was old enough to understand what that meant.

"Who are you?" Zayn blurted out, trying to sound as intimidating as possible despite the wild pounding in his chest. "Why did you help us?"