I felt dizzy, my arms weak from the gear I was carrying, and my knees shaky with fear. Of all the things I had expected to experience in my life, never once did wandering into a minefield with a bunch of scavengers cross my mind. And yet, here I was, in God knows where. I clenched my eyes shut and whispered a prayer to myself, hoping that my pleas would be heard.

“A…” Ava’s voice died in her throat. She cleared it and tried again. “A minefield?”

“Yes,” the man replied simply.

She glanced backward, and I saw genuine fear in her eyes for the first time since I had met her. She turned back to the man, shielding her eyes from the headlights. “What do we do?” I couldn’t miss the quivering in her voice.

“Walk. If you step on a mine, do not take your foot off it.” His tone was hard to understand through his odd accent. For all I knew, he could’ve wanted us to step on a mine and get rid of his problems. “If you remove your foot, the mine will remove much more than that.”

Kéron muttered something under his breath behind me, most likely some sort of swear or feeling of despair. I was tempted to begin complaining, too, but I had to remember that God was on my side and that He would see me through this.

“Th-that’s it?” Ava asked incredulously. “Don’t you have, like, a metal detector, or-or something?”

The man reopened the truck door.

“W-wait! I’m sorry!” She cried. “Please, just wait for us.”

The man shut the door.

I felt a distinct sigh of relief exit each of our lungs. We began inching across the field, treading lightly as if each step could be our last—which it very well could be. I wished I wasn’t carrying so much weight; I felt like I was going to fall over at any second. The sound of blood rushing flooded my ears as adrenaline raced through my veins, and my feet felt electrified like I was walking through static. I kept my eyes glued to the back of Ava’s head trying not to think about the potential death that awaited us at any moment. Time dragged by. It seemed like we had made no progress whatsoever.

Suddenly, Ava stumbled forward, my heart leaping into my throat. I scanned the ground panickedly, searching for a glimmer of metal, praying that Ava’s foot hadn’t left the plate. It was only when I got dragged forward roughly that I realized that we had somehow, miraculously, cleared the minefield. I dropped the gear, shrugging it off and moaning in relief as the weight on my shoulders and arms was relieved. My savior, as it turned out, was a Dragonborn. He was at least a foot taller than me, and staring down at us with an odd expression that was difficult to see in the low light.

I clasped my hands together and turned to him. “Thank you, sir, for helping us,” I said gratefully. I knew that he didn’t actually do much in terms of helping us, but I figured it’d be best to get on his good side regardless.

Ava pushed herself off the ground and joined me. “Y-yeah, thank you, si-” her expression froze as she stared at the patch on the soldier’s shoulder, squinting at it.

“What’s wrong, Ava?” Kéron asked.

He didn’t get an answer. In a flash, Ava had unholstered her pistol, but the Dragonborn was faster. He twisted her arm around, forcing her to kneel. She groaned in pain as Kéron watched, shocked. The soldier wasted no time drawing his pistol and leveling it at the Umbrite’s head, freezing Kéron in place.

The Aquarite looked at me with piercing blue eyes. “You. Open the truck door, or your friend will get a bullet to the brain.”

I complied, having no intention of seeing any more death, or of losing the only person who was willing to treat me like an equal. Almost. The Aquarite manhandled Ava into the back of the truck, ignoring her cries of pain. He shoved Kéron in as well, paying no attention to his wounded leg. Finally, he turned to me, but I held my hands placatingly, stepping back.

“W-wait, I can get in by myself,” I blurted. “I’ll do whatever you say.”

“Fine,” he replied after staring at me for a long moment. “Go.”

I crawled in hastily, almost getting my tail crushed in the door as the soldier slammed it shut. The truck rocked, and loud thuds emanated from outside as the Aquarite threw our belongings into the bed. He climbed into the truck, glancing in the rearview mirror only once, before reversing to drive the way he came. The first thing that occurred to me was how absurdly large his truck was. It was clearly built for people upwards of seven feet tall—not to mention their tails adding to the length. Much more comfortable than the… wait, why are you thinking about this? I shook my head and decided to tune into what Ava was saying, thanks to her urgent tone.

“…A fucking Provisional Marine,” she said quietly, apprehension in her voice. “We’re so fucked.”

I scowled at her use of language, but couldn’t quell my curiosity. “How so?”

“Don’t they teach you anything?” Kéron demanded, sounding genuinely upset with me for the first time.

“I mean, Dad sometimes takes me to war rooms,” I offered. “Never really bothered to listen, though.

He sighed tiredly, rubbing the bridge of his snout. “Provisional Marines are notorious for their brutality. They torture people because they feel like it.”

Torture? I thought, feeling myself go a bit cold.

“Torture, murder, beatings, any crime you can think of, they will commit it,” Ava added her voice stone cold. “They’re el diablo encarnado. Literally.”

That tickled a memory in the corners of my mind, but fear and apprehension were making it difficult to dredge anything up. I hadn’t ever heard of the CPG’s sheer brutality before, and I was really wishing I had listened better. They never spoke about prisoners, I thought, glancing out the window at a dimly moonlit environment. Or maybe they did. I only ever caught bits and pieces about how they kept pushing further into the Sprawl, and more recently, the superweapon. The superweapon. The thing that had started this whole journey. It occurred to me that I really had no plan on how to reach the superweapon. Or if it even truly existed, for that matter. I waved those doubts away. Everything became vague after “cross the California Provisional Government’s border.” I rubbed the bridge of my snout, trying to think of a way to succeed with my goals. It wasn’t easy, though, with Kéron and Ava talking away right next to me. Annoyed, I glanced over at them.

As it turned out, Ava was telling Kéron what had happened since the point they were separated. Of course, Ava did her best to downplay everything I did, such as convincing the Felisius not to turn us into the Utahn soldiers. I listened absentmindedly as she continued to speak, embellishing her side of the story, acting like murdering the two soldiers in cold blood was the morally correct option. I felt sick, remembering the thuds of their bodies hitting concrete. Please let Kéron speak, I pleaded quietly. Hopefully, he’ll have less of a horrid story to tell.

“Uh, so,” he began, rubbing his hands together nervously. “You guys know the gist of what happened in the beginning. Giant fireball, gunfire, blah blah blah.”

“Where’d the fireball come from, anyway?” I asked, turning to face him.

“Well, the gunfire wasn’t completely harmless,” he continued, ignoring my question. “I mean, you’ve got my leg as evidence of that. Anyway, I didn’t even realize I was injured until my leg gave out six blocks away. ‘Course, I made a tourniquet, and continued onward.”

“How’d you manage to avoid the patrols?” Ava asked, leaning forward.

“Easier said than done,” he replied, a look of weariness crossing his face. “After I had escaped, patrols were on high alert. Hell, they even had fucking helicopters in the air. At one point, I had to crawl through a drainage tunnel just to cross the road. I tried to keep my leg out of the dirt, since it was dry, thankfully, but I still feel like I caught fifty diseases.”

“What about the explosion? At the mall?” I prodded.

“Oh, that. I found myself at a restaurant, and they still had propane and whatnot stashed away,” he explained. “I was a bit under pressure but managed to open all the valves, run like hell, and uh, toss a match behind me. Was hoping for an explosion, and I sure as hell got it.”

Under pressure? Sounds like there was someone following him, maybe, I thought, squinting at him. It was probably just a few soldiers. I hope they didn’t get caught in the blast.

Ava clapped Kéron on the shoulder, smiling proudly. “I’ll be damned, Kéron. You just keep managing to one-up yourself time and time again.”

He chuckled. “I mean, I dunno if I’ll ever manage to top blowing up a wendigo.”

“Ava mentioned that,” I said, tilting my head. “How did that happen?”

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Kéron seemed reluctant to answer, but Ava encouraged him. He recounted the story, with Ava adding embellishments, despite the Umbrite’s protests that he was alone at the time. Throughout the story, the back of my neck tingled, like I was being watched. Every time I glanced at the rearview mirror, the Aquarite’s eyes were glued to the road, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was staring at me. I shuddered, and tried to focus on Kéron’s story; he had just reached the northern hallway.

—/—|—\—

By the time we arrived at the CPG outpost, my backside had turned numb, and Ava and Kéron had told countless stories, seemingly for the sake of not having to focus on their predicament. The two of them had a colorful past, to say the least. Their work for the Contractor had started before they were even adults, seemingly every species on earth had tried to kill them at least once, and somehow, they managed to survive through the worst winter to hit Utah in the last decade. Even the power in the capitol had been knocked out by the blizzards. However, as an Aquarite soldier waved us through the gate, the pair fell silent, the weight of the situation settling like a blanket of snow. The outpost was small. A few small buildings were built in a row, with just one watchtower, and a handful of vehicles that looked like they hadn’t seen more use than the occasional patrol.

The pair’s talk of the Provisional Marine’s brutality lingered in my mind as the Aquarite pulled up to a small, crudely constructed building at the end of the camp. It was one of the few buildings built with cinder blocks, which did nothing to mitigate its menacing aura. My heart sank as a pair of gruff-looking soldiers stepped out of the building and moved toward the truck. A deep green Dragonborn opened the door and glared at me.

“Out,” she barked, the small bioluminescent scales under her eyes lighting up for emphasis. Not wanting to incur her wrath, I listened and stepped out of the truck. Despite my compliance, she shoved me roughly, sending me sprawling across the harsh gravel road. Tears pricked my eyes as I pushed myself onto my knees, scrapes from my last fall reopening and staining my palms dark red.

“Get up,” another soldier growled, yanking me to my feet by my collar before I even had a chance to respond.

I was first into the building, and nothing I saw alleviated my dread. The first thing I saw was groups of Aquarite soldiers sitting in some sort of lounge area. Each one had their weapon and was dressed in combat fatigues, watching us as we were escorted through the room. Despite being what I assumed was a sort of recreation room, the amenities were sparse. There was a beat-up-looking coffee maker, a filthy TV, and a pool table that was far too small for the soldiers to use properly. Not to mention the armory on the other side of the room, hidden behind bulletproof glass and a solid steel door. The soldiers watched us like hawks as if we were the most interesting things they’d seen in months. A few of them jeered at us—particularly at Kéron—calling out insults and making fun of our appearances. I grunted and stumbled forward slightly as a soldier pushed me, prompting me to turn my attention back to the floor. Their catcalls were degrading, making my entire body feel filthy.

I glanced up and found myself in front of a heavy stainless steel door. The lavender Aquarite from the truck opened it with a heavy creak, ushering me and my… I wasn’t sure what to call them—into the small, cramped room. The walls were cracked, the floor was stained with something that looked suspiciously like blood, and the place had a general aura of desperation and fear. A camera was mounted on the ceiling, a dim light flashing through its tinted dome, watching our every move. A large segmented circle sat to the right of the camera, embedded into the ceiling. The bullet holes peppering the room told me all I needed to know. To the right was a booth with a thick metal grate separating me, Ava, and Kéron from a tired-looking Aquarite. He glanced at us before tapping something on his desk. An inconspicuous bar above the grate lit up suddenly, scanning us from head to toe. I flinched as an alarm blared.

“Put all of your weapons in the tray,” the soldier ordered in a monotonous voice as if he had said these exact words millions of times. I winced as a tray underneath the window opened up with a grating metallic screech. Ava and Kéron did as the soldier ordered. What surprised me was Ava’s silence, although the eight-inch knife she removed from her belt was equally fascinating. I watched as the two of them placed their weapons in the tray, morbidly intrigued. Between the two of them, there ended up being three pistols, five knives of varying lengths, and several magic-based gadgets that I couldn’t begin to imagine the uses of. The tray retracted, and the guard opened the door ahead of us, apparently satisfied.

Slowly, we trudged forward. My feet dragged as I led the way, and I couldn’t help but feel like I had made a major mistake. All of this had come into being because of my plan to show my father that I could do what he could not. It almost felt like this was God’s way of humbling me, telling me that I should’ve respected Dad. Staring at the hostile-looking soldiers in front of me, I certainly felt like I was being punished. The Aquarite who had driven us to the base was among the soldiers. I guess maybe he came in through another door. He strode forward, gripping my shoulder with a rough cybernetic hand.

“Come,” he ordered simply, not removing his grip from my shoulder.

I glanced over my shoulder at Kéron and Ava, who were being taken in the other direction. The Umbrite was getting pushed around much more than what seemed necessary, but I couldn’t dwell on that. There were much more pressing matters at hand. My footsteps echoed loudly in my ears, and I felt sick to my stomach. The pair’s stories of CPG brutality and torture made my knees feel weak as I imagined all the horrible things I was about to endure. Silently, I said a prayer, hoping that God would forgive me for my ignorance. The journey to the small cell was short, yet felt like an eternity. The Aquarite directed me to an uncomfortable steel chair, and sat down across from me, his chair creaking under his weight. Even sitting, he was at least a head taller than me.

“Sorry for the way my, er…” he trailed off, tapping the table with his cybernetic hand. “What do you call them? Colleagues?” He shook his head. “Whatever. I am sorry for the way they treated you. I think it is rather unnecessary.” The first thing I noticed was the oddness of his accent. He didn’t fully pronounce his R’s, making it sound like he had some sort of speech impediment.

I glanced around, feeling perplexed. Upon further examination, the room I was in wasn’t blatantly hostile. It was barebones, and uncomfortable, but I didn’t see blood stains or any signs that this room was used for torture. I turned my attention to him and looked him square in the eye. “W-why are you being so… polite?”

His lavender features creased in faux confusion, the darker scales wrinkling. “Why would I not be?”

“Because you threatened to shoot my—my companion in the head?”

“Ah.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “An unfortunate situation, I know. It was necessary, however. The girl presented herself as a threat. Your friend could have also shared her sentiment.”

I didn’t believe his words for a second. All this felt like a prelude, where he would get my guard down before pouncing, subjecting me to the torture I knew he must be wanting to dish out. I scanned the walls for hidden compartments frantically, knowing that those would be where he’d get his torture weapon of choice.

“That is beside the point,” he said. “I am Sarillim.” He extended his left hand. I stared at it, before glancing up at him. His blue eyes watched me expectantly, a false relaxed expression plastered across his face. He looked tired and old, and the various stress lines he wore did him no favors. I was sure he’d performed dozens upon dozens of interrogations just like this one, lulling his captors into a false sense of security. “Oh, I am sorry,” he muttered, switching to his right hand. The cold steel of his skeletal-looking cybernetics wasn’t any more inviting. As I stared at him, I mulled over what I heard. His way of speaking was odd and stilted, struggling with softer sounds, and over-emphasizing harsher sounds in certain words. It made his tone all the more difficult to understand. He’s not going to control me. After a long moment, he withdrew his hand, a stony expression clouding his face, the shadows under his eyes seeming to grow darker.

Sarillim pulled out a tablet and began tapping on its screen. “I guess we want to play that game, no? Well, let us see what our scans have provided to us…”

Icy dread washed over me, and I leaned forward, slamming my hands on the table to get his attention. He paused in the middle of typing, staring down his snout at me. “What if I could help you get out of here?” I asked, my voice low. “Out of this… prison?” I hoped he was intelligent enough to understand my meaning. “If you help me with what I’m trying to do, I can make anything you want happen. Your wildest dreams could come true. If you just help me.” The man stared at me as I leaned back, maintaining eye contact with me. He seemed to be turning my words over in his head, examining them, dissecting every syllable.

Slowly, he leaned forward, his eyes intense. Metal creaked underneath him as his eyes leveled with mine. “You know what I want, fluffy dragon?” He asked quietly, his voice just above a whisper.

I stared him in the eyes, hoping he couldn’t hear my heart banging against my rib cage.

“I… want…”

My hands felt shaky, and I tucked them into my armpits, praying he didn’t notice.

“To know exactly who you are,” he said, his voice stone cold. My heart sank as he straightened back up, and continued typing on his tablet.

“W-wait, you don’t need to do that!” I protested. “You can trust me!”

“Mhm,” Sarillim muttered, arching an eyebrow at the screen. I swallowed hard as he scanned the tablet. “Whatever you say… Isa...b-b...ell Sn…” he wrinkled his snout at the device. “You are politician’s daughter, I see. Just recently turned nineteen, adopted, father and mother were Glacite and Aquarite, yet unknown, propaganda piece, heiress to a dying kingdom, and glued to your, uh… father’s side.” He glanced up at me. “Interesting.”

The way he said that last word sent chills down my spine, but I couldn’t help but notice the pang of curiosity as he listed my parents. That was quickly overridden by indignity as the latter portion of his sentence registered. “I am not a propaganda piece!” I protested, straightening up. “And I’m not a… a heiress!”

“Uh-huh.” He scrolled down a little. “And what do you call ‘relaying government-mandated messages across the state of Utah’?”

“I-I mean, they’re motivational messages,” I replied meekly. “Little bits of advice, and encouragement for people.”

“Encouragement, yes,” he muttered, sounding unamused. “That would make sense, if it did not happen to involve lying and sugar-coating information.”

“I… I don’t sugarcoat anything.”

“Sure. I believe you,” Sarillim responded blandly. “That is all beside the point, Is-ay… fluffy dragon. You are my prisoner.” He leaned forward again, putting down the tablet softly. “You do not set terms and conditions. If anything, you are the one who checks the box.” Fear tingled throughout my body as his eyes sparkled, a slight smile crossing his lips. “You will come with me to San Francisco, and I will receive a promotion. How does that sound?”

“W-wait, I can help you get a promotion,” I exclaimed frantically, my control of the situation slipping away. “I have m-money, and-”

“What money?” He asked snidely. “You are runaway. Your bank account has most likely been cut off by this time. You have no power here, fluffy dragon.”

The weight of his words settled over me like fresh concrete. I felt sick and trapped. Increasingly, I wished I could turn back time and just stay in bed. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, and I had to resist the urge to cry. I should’ve stayed home, I thought. I should’ve just taken the cake. I wish I was still home.

Metal scraped loudly as the Aquarite stood. “I think our talk is over. Come; I will take you to your cell.”

My limbs felt heavy as I stood and trudged out the door. My mind was numb and empty, depressed thoughts swirling around as if they were caught in a drain. I could almost hear my dad going on about how this was thanks to my disobedience, and would read me one of his dozens of verses about obedience, and honoring thy father and mother. It was hard not to feel like a failure as I was marched down the hall, judgmental eyes glaring at me from every direction.

That’s all I really am, anyway.