Episode 2.

The guard’s shadow fell over them, wide and distorting in the pale afternoon sun.

The brother, eyes still fixed on the approaching boots, gave a single, almost imperceptible shake of his head—not yet.

The sister squeezed his arm, a gentle pressure that spoke of years of shared understanding, a language stronger than the steel and mud that imprisoned them.

“Get up!” the guard barked, his voice thick with boredom and authority. “Back to the line, you two. No whispering.”

They rose stiffly, the brother using the opportunity to brush the ash from his knee and covertly pick up a sharp splinter of bone half-buried in the soil. His face was a mask of dull compliance, the darkness she spoke of already gathering behind his eyes. It was a cold, efficient resolve, stripped of all emotion save the grim necessity of action. Brute force, he thought, testing the razor edge of the bone against his thumb. Steel.

The sister, however, did not mask her face. She looked directly at the guard, her expression one of quiet, unwavering patience, as though she were waiting out a sudden, irritating shower. That gentleness, the refusal to surrender her warmth, was the shield they would need when the darkness had run its course. The sea in her, the boundless energy of the waves, waited to wash the blood and ash away.

He pocketed the splinter.

"It's time," he mouthed, turning his back on her to follow the guard.

The sister nodded, knowing that while his strength would breach the wall, hers would decide the shape of the world on the other side.

I really enjoyed this. You're good with imagery.