Water sluiced from Kyle’s face. His hair dripped in a waterfall, and his biceps and forceps strained where he gripped the toilet. Twenty seconds of precious air remained before it filled up again.

How could Kyle get this boot-licker off of him? Where the hell was Nikki, anyway? She was supposed to back him up. Was she okay? Guilt twinged his already overloaded conscience. He couldn’t afford this distraction.

The unreal strength of the Icarean soldier pressed down on the back of Kyle’s head. He gulped a lungful of smoky air and reached for the toilet handle again. The sight of the water filling up the bowl sent him into a panic. How many times had he done this now? Two? Three? Was he developing a phobia?

The water washed over Kyle’s face, rushing around and pressing at his eyelids and nostrils. It wanted inside. For the first time in two years, Kyle wished he’d cut his hair. In the water, it loomed around his face, inducing claustrophobia. It made his heart race and incited the urge to thrash.

Kyle and Xelan never practiced drowning torture techniques. But in all those years of training, Kyle recalled one important thing. “To remain calm is to remain in control.” So he remained calm, and it paid off.

He pushed himself enough off the floor to kick the Icarean soldier’s hip, and the bastard stopped drowning him.

Kyle stood in a rush and rolled his eyes in growing frustration. “Man, I was hoping that was your nuts.” He sniffed blood back against his sleeve. “If you even have any…”

The monster’s eyes flared, and rage seeped into them. He screamed wordlessly and lunged.

Kyle’s shoe squelched as he sidestepped the soldier and clotheslined him. The Icarus doubled over, choking. Kyle shoved into the soldier’s chest with one hand and slammed an elbow into the middle of his back with the other.

Before the monster recovered, Kyle pounded his knee into the alien’s face. Blue blood sprayed the white-washed walls. After which, Kyle asked, “Do you understand English?”

The bastard stumbled back. Cerulean liquid rushed from his nose and mouth. No answer.

“Do. You. Understand. English?”

The soldier snarled.

Kyle said, “Good. Because I want the next thing I say to be clear between us. I’m about to fuck you up.”

Oh, yeah. He got it.

The alien launched at Kyle. Kyle turned, centered his balance with ease, and side-kicked the vamp-wannabe square in the chest. It went flying into the bathroom stall. The cherry on top? His head fell into the toilet.

Kyle jumped on the stall door. The soldier righted himself as the Progeny swung the door back at him. If they’d built the school from sturdier materials, the blow would have decapitated him. Alas, it only crushed his opponent’s throat perfectly. Kyle grabbed the knife and finished him before the alien recovered. Right in the chest.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

The young man swung his soppy hair back and laughed, nudging the corpse with his foot. Luckily, these cloaked guys didn’t teleport like Korac with Rayne and Sagan. Maybe not every single blood sucker on Cinder was super gifted.

“Ooo… What’s this?” Kyle knelt beside the body, shoved aside the folds of his cloak, and snatched something from his belt. The familiar gold dagger fit in his hand. From the pommel to the blade, a golden-leafed vine swirled in delicate metallurgy. This could only be…

{Near 6,000bce}

“You forged this?” Celindria stared down into the magnificent vessel.

Pride warmed Devis’ chest. His smile broadened at the awe in her eyes. Grateful for the rare gift of her praise, he said, “I named it ‘Pretiosum Cruor,’ which means—”

“Cherished Blood,” they said in unison.

She smiled at him over the surveyed artifacts. “How does it function?”

Devis understood Celindria only focused on business. She desired nothing more than to save humanity from the Icarean horde. He respected her for it, but he also wondered if she ever got lonely. Many in their group had paired off. Even Xelan and Merit stopped dancing around it and started spending time together. But Celindria went off on her own, planning every detail of their revolution. Devis would never stop loving her.

“Devis? Is something wrong?” Celindria pressed.

“Oh, apologies. The work has taxed me greatly.” He laughed away her concern. “Here,” he said as he laid the dagger and vessel on a silk display. Both were forged with smelted gold. A metal which harbored adverse effects on their oppressors.

Devis touched the empty heart-shaped receptacle. A golden sword pierced it, and a delicate golden vine surrounded both. “This is for the blood as we talked about. I designed this to chamber it. Releasing the blood will unlock the conduit and set the last step of our plans in motion. Once we gather The Brethren and discuss our strategy, we can vet volunteers for the process. One person. One bond. Forever.”

Celindria asked, “How do we get the blood into it?”

Devis said, “This dagger.” He touched a ten-centimeter golden blade surrounded by the same swirling vine. “The technology Xelan provided us will prevent oxygen from reaching the blood. Straight from the vein to the glass with no exposure.”

Suddenly, Celindria faltered and let the podium hold her weight.

“Are you all right?” Devis asked, holding her elbow.

In a breathy voice, Celindria said, “Yes. I apologize. It must be the heat from the forge.”

“I can fetch water.” The young man rushed to the center of the camp and collected the ladle from the trough.

After filling the flask, Devis rushed back to his forge. Upon entering, he knew without words something was wrong. He dropped the flask and gaped. “No.” His voice went quiet and thin.

Celindria offered a sad smile as if afraid she’d disappointed him. “This is the way,” she offered.

Devis said, “You can never understand what you have done.”

“The nanotechnology will recognize my blood for the Vacating. It will accept no other.”

“Forever, Celindria. It will not accept the blood of another so long as the technology exists,” Devis elaborated.

Celindria touched him on the shoulder gently and relaxed a little. “It could be no other way. Never would I ask another to take on such a charge. All generations that follow would suffer. Please tell no one of the consequences.”

“How could you ask me to accept such a thing?” Devis countered. “And what of the generations to follow your bloodline?”

Celindria said, “We must all bear our burdens. I, too, wish I did not have to ask you to bear mine.”

Devis nodded. When she left, he stared at the podium. A tear fell from his eyes, and then another. Inside the glass vessel pooled the most cherished blood, and he blamed himself.

{Invasion Day | April 2006}

Kyle stuck the fine instrument in one of his deeper pockets and chuffed at the fallen soldier. “This belongs to me. How did you get it?”

A scream alerted him back to the battle in the cafeteria. There were only four left after this one. Not counting Korac, of course.