The lumpy stew wasn’t half bad. Gwil had gone to the big pot with the others and helped pass it out. Then they’d returned to their corner of the cavern and sat down to eat.

“You look a damn sight better than yesterday,” Isca said.

Gwil shrugged. “I think I was just hungry. Hey, how come you guys aren’t blue?”

“Takes time,” Cort said. He held out his arm. “You can see here; my veins are starting to glow a bit.”

“Doesn’t seem like it’s gonna happen to me,” Isca said. “I’ve been worse places than here.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Gwil asked.

Isca opened her mouth, but Cort cut in.

“We have no plan. Just half-baked shit, which is why doing this tomorrow is insane. When I was just getting myself out… But I can’t just… It’s just so… Argh!” He slammed his empty soup cup at the ground, and then it bounced up and hit him in the face.

Gwil laughed. “It doesn’t matter then. It’s not like you’re gonna come up with something all of a sudden. And my friend will be here. She could probably do it all on her own.”

“Er, who is this person exactly?” Isca said. “What are they gonna do?”

“I dunno,” Gwil said. “But her name’s Leira. She’s the smartest person I’ve ever met. And I trust her no matter what.”

Isca gave Cort a playful shove. “Half-baked shit is better than nothing.” She looked back at Gwil. “We think the best time is right before shift-end. The guards get antsy. We all still have our pickaxes. And the best part is the other shift will be on their way in. We can get them. And just like that, we’ve got two hundred people. Damn near an army.”

She shoved Cort again.

“Not everyone’s in fighting shape,” he mumbled. “Right. We don’t know how many guards work in the prison. Our guess is somewhere between fifty and a hundred.”

“Ha! That’s nothing,” Gwil said.

“Shut up,” Cort said. “Don’t laugh when you know jack shit. That could be a hundred armed and trained fighters. We’ll be lucky if half of the prisoners can do anything more than carry themselves. And we gotta protect the rest.”

“They will fight,” Isca said. “You’re a fool if you don’t think they’ll be rabid for just a sliver of a chance.”

“It’s not a chance,” Gwil said. “We’re gonna do it for sure.”

Cort shook his head. “If we get out of the mines and meet up with the other shift, then that’s only the beginning. We’ll be able to get control of things inside the prison. But getting out is a whole ‘nother story.”

Gwil stayed quiet.

“We can’t climb up the mountains. There’s too many of us. It’s too steep. And the Podexians would shred us if we tried. Going through the wall is the only way.”

“The wall it is,” Gwil said.

“And we’ve got nothing for it,” Cort said, scowling.

“Oh, there’s a gate,” Gwil said. “That’s how they brought me in. We can just walk through.”

Isca laughed while Cort grabbed a fistful of Gwil’s shirt and yanked him forward. “I know about the fucking gate. Everyone knows about the gate. They don’t just leave it open!”

“Jaqlov has a lot more men outside the prison,” Isca said. “The ones stuck in here are the ones he doesn’t care about. They’re just a higher class of slave, really. And there’s the sheriff. He’s Hallowed and a real mean bastard.”

“I met him,” Gwil said. “I can beat him. Oh, but what about my collar? I probably can’t beat him if I have it on.”

“Probably?” Cort scoffed. He crawled over and pushed Gwil’s head to the side so he could look at the collar. “Heh. Alright. I can break it for you.”

“Easy. All set then.”

Isca nodded. “We can do this. Jaqlov is too arrogant to see that his kingdom is fragile. He doesn’t think we can get up, because he’s had his boot on our fucking necks for so long. If we can get out of the prison, I’m gonna-”

“No, Isca,” Cort barked. “Enough of that. It’s psychotic.”

“Huh?” Gwil said.

“I need to destroy this place,” Isca said. “It’s not a choice.”

“I know,” Gwil said. “I thought that’s-”

“No. I mean I’m gonna completely annihilate it. There will be nothing left.”

Cort buried his face in his hands and groaned.

“Woah, how?” Gwil asked.

“In its unrefined state, Kaia is highly volatile,” Isca said. “Explosive. That’s why we have to mine it with hand tools. If I set something off in one of the veins, it’ll cause a chain reaction. I will turn this mountain into dust.”

“Cool!”

“It’s not cool,” Cort said. “It’s lunacy. The explosion would be massive. We’d need to get past the wall, and then get so far clear that we might as well just run the fuck away. On top of that, we gotta waste time rigging up a detonator. It’s stupid.”

“I told you, Cort,” Isca said softly. “I have to do this.”

“You don’t have to do anything.” Cort stood and waved her off. “Risking lives for some symbolic garbage,” he muttered as he stalked off.

Isca laughed. “He’s a good guy underneath.”

“I know,” Gwil said. “What’s with all the writing on your body?”

The elegant lettering looked like it was moving. Gwil found it entrancing.

“Nothing,” Isca said. “Just a bunch of garbage.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

“At least it looks good,” Gwil said. “You’re like a walking book.”

Brow furrowed, Isca stared at Gwil. Her gaze disarmed him; her irises were nearly as dark as her pupils. “How did you get put in here?”

Gwil leaned back on his hands. “I got run over by a skimmer, and then I kind of let them capture me, ‘cause I thought they’d bring me to see the Burger, and then I was gonna kill him or something. Cause he probably wasn’t gonna just release the slaves if I told him to, right? But the sheriff got me good. I didn’t know about the ropes. And they brought me here.”

“I’m not surprised that Cort finds you difficult,” Isca said after a moment. “But it’s good you’re confident. We need that, I think.”

“So, what happens after?”

“After I destroy the mountain?” Isca said.

Gwil nodded.

She tugged at her cheek. “It’s hard to see further than the wall. But I expect Jaqlov and his scumsuckers will scatter like the cockroaches they are. And you all—we will need to get everyone the hell away from here. I don’t… know where.”

“Can’t they just live in the town? It’s really nice.”

Isca closed her eyes, ran her fingers through her matted hair. “No. This land is cursed, but that doesn’t even matter. The Leviathan will come to see what happened to the Kaia. We need to make sure we’re far away before that happens.”

Gwil nodded. “This is the first place I’ve ever been, but the World seems pretty shitty.”

“Mhm.”

He sighed. “I’m really disappointed.”

“It’s what we wrought,” Isca said. “Only ourselves to blame. Cowards might put it on our ancestors as if we’re any better.” She laughed. “We are diseased, Gwil. The whole World is diseased. Even the sky is sick. No rainbows for us. The Leviathan is only capitalizing on the vulnerability.”

“Huh?” Gwil said. “But why?”

“Good question.” She laid down on her back, folded her arms under her head, closed her eyes. Her tattoos blurred as she moved. “Power isn’t power without abuse. And wealth isn’t wealth without deprivation.”

***

A just-whiffed-shit scowl was plastered across Leira’s face, and it wasn’t coming off anytime soon. She rode in a cable car, high above the Podexian town, on the way to Jaqlov’s manor, which stood within the massive hollow that had been carved into the canyon wall.

Time for this Silver Gala nonsense.

She was stuck riding with an absolutely wretched family of four. Bunch of pink-faced, pig-nosed shit-jugglers. The two kids were whining, the father droned on about all the illustrious brown-nosing he planned to do at the party, and the mother fussed with anything she could get her grubby hands on.

Shut up, shut up, shut up, you dumb, ugly bastards!

Leira hawked up a loogie and spat out the window. That shut them up right quick. You could’ve heard a pin drop.

She kept her eyes trained out the window, unable to bear the sight of her co-passengers for another second. It was a clear night, and the moonlight shone nearly pure white. Tonight, the Martyr’s Wound was a barren scar rather than a weeping gash.

The cable car ran alongside and above the wall. Leira could see the tunnel that had been excavated at the end of the canyon.

Gwil was there. It didn’t look terribly well-fortified. The wall was big, but she’d just find a way through the gate.

It didn’t seem like Podexia had much military strength. None of the guards she’d seen carried guns. And they didn’t appear to be very well-trained. Most of them just lazed about. There was that Hallow, Jackson, with the Nirva ropes and the ridiculous motorcycle who had beaten Gwil with ease, but they’d deal with him if they had to. Somehow.

Leira had calmed down since finding out that Podexia was a Kaia mine. It must have been a small operation, just a few paltry veins. Even microscopic motes of Kaia were precious, but if they had anything substantial here, the Leviathan would’ve set up a military base and a refinery.

She felt confident. The Leviathan wouldn’t show up. Why would they? And if they did, what would it matter? They’d just send some grunts. A Monarch wouldn’t come for a routine check. Stop being stupid, she told herself. Stop thinking about that. It’s not her. It’s not her.

And if it is Anesidyra? I’d rather die.

Leira set her jaw. See you tomorrow, Gwil.

She looked back toward the estate. The grounds were beautiful, lush and glistening. A labyrinth of flowery shrubs adorned the yard, with blossoms so vibrant their colors seemed to bleed out of their petals.

One of the great ironies of her life was that Leira loved flowers. Regular, mundane flowers. If she could just do nothing but tend a quiet garden for the rest of her days, well, that’d be a dream come true.

Anyone with eyes could see that flowers were special things, like little stars scattered across the earth. The resolve to stare up at the bleak sky and be nothing but beautiful…

The lonely, impossible ones really did it for her. The ones so desperate to grow that they punched through solid stone, even though their soil was poisonous. Like the last soldier standing against the host that had slayed his comrades.

It was all such a shame. Now she would have to set fire to this garden. She would burn the beautiful lie that masked the lord’s malevolence.

Behind the sprawling gardens, the manor loomed. It was a bizarre-looking building. One half of the structure, the right side from her perspective, was nothing special. Grand and imposing, four stories tall, made of immaculate white marble, sharp-featured architecture—a typical abode for a wealthy baron.

But the other half was just an enormous chunk of rough, natural marble. Like a small mountain. Dirty and lumpy, marred by rust streaks and covered with salt deposits. Completely untouched. The masterpiece of an impossibly gifted sculptor, abandoned halfway through.

The cable car began to descend. A swarm of arriving partygoers streamed from the cable car’s terminal, through the gardens, to the foot of the manor, where the festivities were in full swing. An array of white tents filled the space, along with performers and multiple elevated stages.

Leira spotted one of those huge walking rock-beings. A Talus. She didn’t know if it was the same one, but one of them had started all their problems. If Gwil hadn’t run out to look at it, he wouldn’t have gotten run over by Jaqlov’s idiot-spawn.

Leira stood up and moved to the door as the cable car neared the end of the line. She ignored the four pairs of eyes drilling into her back. She wished she could give each of them a nice slap across the face, but she needed to behave herself.

“Ahem,” the woman said. “It would be proper to allow my husband to disembark first. He is a close friend of Burgermeister Jaqlov.”

Leira looked over her shoulder as the man made to stand. She barred his way with her arm.

“Eat shit,” she said.

The doors opened and Leira skipped off, blowing past the tuxedoed attendants who greeted the guests. No one stopped her, so, after giving the depot a quick scan, she made a split-second decision to ditch Adeline. Rather not spend time with that insufferable woman, anyway.

She breathed deep the sweet scent of the gardens as she hurried through the labyrinth, shoving aside anyone who strolled across her path. Many of the guests wore cumbersome robes and gowns, along with masks and other gaudy ornaments.

Emerging onto the main grounds, she stopped in her tracks and gaped at the sheer revelry. A full orchestra played dramatic music. Acrobats swung from tree branches and near-invisible lines that had been raised overhead. Simple robots—one-wheeled with trays atop their heads, like little mobile tables—zoomed through the crowd carrying drinks and hors d'oeuvres.

Jaqlov knew how to throw a party, it seemed. Leira grabbed two glasses of champagne from a robot and downed one of them. I gotta make sure Gwil gets to see one of these things.

It was a chilly night, but the Kaia lamps scattered throughout the grounds had heaters built in.

There was a group to her right, playing some game where they tossed heavy balls around. A bigger, louder, drunker group stood up ahead. Their bodies blocked her view, so she went to see what all the fuss was about.

Mostly men gathered there, and many of them waved jangling sacks of doubloons over their heads. A flock of frazzled-looking attendants moved among them, carrying clipboards and wearing vests lined with stacks of coins.

Leira heard a horrible screeching sound. Half of the crowd let out a crazed roar; the others groaned. She was taller than most of them, so when she reached the edge, she could see over their heads.

A dead animal lay on the ground within a caged enclosure with a sand-covered floor. Blood spouted from its neck.

A winged creature prowled the arena. Its maned head was feline, but its six legs were birdlike. Blood coated its feathered body.

She could not tell what the head of the dead animal looked like, because it had been crushed into pulp, but it had a reptilian body.

Poor, spliced things. The Leviathan engineered armies of genetically spliced beasts to specialize in various sorts of transportation and labor. But these were just amateurish underground creations. They’d live short, painful, drug-fueled lives.

Leira inched closer to the belligerent idiot beside her. He noticed her staring at him just as the petals of the eyeflower began to writhe. A cloud of bile-yellow spores puffed out.

As she walked away, that man and the two beside him began projectile vomiting. There’s something to wail about, assholes.

She plunged deeper into the frivolity—artists painting portraits, a gaggle of scantily clad dancers, a swimming pool.

“Lady Leira!” called a nasally voice.

Leira curtsied as she turned. “Lady Adeline! How splendid!”