Englecon Mine, Desmond, 10416 P.C.

“We can escape.”

The hair on Matthew's arms rose at Stephanie's words. He let out a heavy breath. He had known she was going look at it that way — he had almost let himself think that way as well, if only for a moment. "We can't," he replied to the stone wall he faced. "He'll kill us."

You're a coward, Matthew Garza. He wished it was Kylie's accusing voice and not his own thoughts that had whispered the words.

"Not if he doesn't catch us," Stephanie said, a bit too practically.

"He will." He closed his eyes against the memory of Kylie's death, against the memory of Abby's blood trailing down the very wall he stared at. Under his breath, he begged Abby to hang on. He didn't know what he'd do if she was dead.

"And what will he do? We're Oddities. He won't kill us." She seemed so confident in that.

"You don't want to know what he'd do." Didn't this girl understand? Of course she didn't. He hadn't missed the dragonmark on her face, the glaring evidence of what she was and how she had been raised. She knew nothing of the hardships he had faced, of the horrors that occurred in this place daily.

When she didn't respond, he took a deep breath. "Why are you an Oddity anyway?"

Silence hung between them for a long moment, as big and as thick as the stone wall that separated them. Then she replied with "I don't know." A pause. "I was raised my whole life in Zusia. I was a Trainee. I just graduated a few weeks ago, and they make a big deal of it all. You know about the Trainee Rebellion?"

"Who doesn't?"

"Ever since then, at every graduation ceremony, a graduate is picked to participate in something called the Purge. A fight to the death in the arena with criminals. Motch's way of reminding us all that he's in charge. It doesn't matter who you are. This year..." she trailed off. "I lost my best friend to the Purge. They killed her. And no one cared. Because it's just what happens."

The hollowness in her voice was something Matthew was familiar with. He gnawed on his bottom lip, unsure of how to respond. His bitterness wanted to shrug it off and agree: it's just what happened. The empathetic part of him wished he could show her how much he understood. However, he remained silent.

"I was put in the Army," Stephanie continued. "My new squadron was sent on a mission to search a town for Illegals and when I did find one, I... well, I saw myself in her — she was just a toddler, so little, and I couldn't take it anymore. I tried escaping with her, but they caught me." Another pause. "Usually, they kill deserters on the spot. But they didn't. My Sergeant said I was an Oddity. I don't know why. I managed to escape with some others, but... here I am again, facing that same label. I don't know why."

Matthew sat quietly, staring down at his hands. They glowed quietly, a small comfort but an even greater discomfort. He was alone in this, alone in the mysterious abilities he had. He didn't know what held him back from just telling her what made him odd, what made him an outcast and freak — the worst she could do was shun him.

No. The worst she could do was assume he was somehow capable of saving them.

"Matthew?"

He had been silent for too long. "I don't know what to say."

"What..." she trailed off, and he grimaced, knowing she was going to ask him what made him an Oddity. She surprised him. "What is life like in here? How long have you been in this place?"

He arched an eyebrow at the wall. "This pit, or this mine?"

"How long have you been a slave?" she clarified.

He had no idea. "I don't know exactly how long. An eternity. Ever since I was twelve."

"How old are you now?"

"I don't know."

He took her silence as shock. He hadn't lied — he had no idea what his age was, exactly. He had lost count of the months, lost track of the years. It seemed like yesterday he was in the hidden room with his sisters; it also felt like a lifetime ago.

She finally spoke. "What's your birthday?"

He hadn't thought about that in forever. Leaning his head back against the stone wall, he closed his eyes and thought hard. "I think... I think it was August tenth." He could vaguely remember celebrating one of his birthdays. The memory was distant, nearly forgotten.

"What year?"

That was a bit harder to remember. Numbers that might have had special meanings jumbled together in his mind, dates he had forgotten, ages he had been, things he had done. Vaguely, he remembered Lily making a big deal over the fact that he had turned twelve on a certain year, but he couldn't for the life of him remember what year that had been.

There was a way to figure it out. "Did you hear about the Taraseth raid?"

"The town out west that Motch nearly destroyed because of Illegal activity?"

"Yeah. What year was that?"

"Ten-four-eleven, I think."

It had been earlier on in the year, in the middle of the summer, long before Matthew's thirteenth birthday. Now he remembered: Lily had thought it special that he had turned twelve in the year ten-four-ten. That meant...

"I was born in ten-three-ninety-eight." August tenth, ten-three-ninety-eight — his birthday. Something he had nearly forgotten.

Stephanie took a moment to reply. "You're seventeen."

Seventeen. Matthew sat in numb silence, letting the reality roll over him like thick, suffocating sludge. He was seventeen years old. "Five years, then." The words were just above a whisper.

Five years in darkness, five years imprisoned, five years as a slave. Five years since he had lost his family and entered hell.

"That's insane." Stephanie's voice echoed, bouncing around the empty room. "They always said few slaves survive beyond a year in the mines. Two years was the longest I ever heard."

"Your statistics never knew me, I guess." Matthew still felt numb. Five years. Jules had been five years old when it all went down. To think that she would have been ten right now... and Lily would have been nineteen. The thought of it stunned him. His sisters would never be those ages. They were dead. Because of him.

Stephanie spoke, drawing him out of his dark thoughts. "Is that why you're an Oddity? Because you've survived all this time?"

It wasn't the truth. It wasn't a lie, either. "I guess."

"There's more to it?" He was silent, and she must have taken it as a yes. "Why won't you tell me?"

Matthew slowly closed his eyes, letting the words come to his lips. "Because then you'll think I can save you."

Coward. What is the point of all of this? He's going to kill you anyway.

"Matthew, have you ever thought that your gifts were given to you for a reason beyond just survival?" Oceania's voice whispered in his mind.

Silence. A scuffling noise ensued. Matthew's eyes shot open, his heart skipping a beat as he looked up and saw Stephanie perched above him. She had used the handholds. He watched in muted silence as she climbed down beside him, sliding the last few feet. They were sitting side by side now, close enough that he could feel her warmth, see the details of her face in the dim glow of his hands.

His hands. He mentally cursed, yanking back the Warmth so hard that his hands jerked as the glow faded out. It was too late. She had seen them, obviously.

She was looking at his eyes. He couldn't hold her gaze; it seemed to pierce into his very soul, exposing him for the coward he was. He bit down hard on his bottom lip, fixing his eyes on the wall of the pit.

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"So the Veiled Lady isn't the only one with magic," she whispered, almost to herself more than him.

He wanted to correct her, to tell her that he didn't have magic, that he was nothing special, nothing different — but all of that would have been another lie. A pathetic lie. She had already seen the evidence. "I don't know how I got it," he admitted. "I think I was born with it." He lifted a hand, gently coaxing the glow back into it. It was mesmerizing to stare at. A golden light flickered beneath his skin like a fire, emitting a glow that made his hand seem even bigger than it was. It was as if his hand had become the sun itself, but the heat was gentle, not scalding. He snapped his fingers, and several sparks erupted, showering from his fingertips and flickering out before they found the ground. He could hear Stephanie's awed breathing beside him.

"Are you immune to fire?" she whispered in amazement.

He shook his head, remembering all too well his encounter with the Overseer in the interrogation room. The candle had burned him as easily as it would have burned anyone else. "This looks like fire, but it isn't." He offered his hand to her, and she hesitated for a moment before she placed her hand in his. She gasped a little but didn't pull away.

"It's warm," she whispered, curling her fingers in his — did she realize the sudden lurch the movement created in his chest? "It's... weird. Like, it's tingly, but under my skin."

Matthew swallowed hard, staring at her hand in his. Her hands were small, yet not frail, hardened by years of training. Strong, like his. Warm, but not like his. Her touch seemed to awaken the Warmth even more; it churned, and he felt more awake and alive in that moment than he had ever felt. At that moment, it was as if every single sense had been heightened, sharpened to the most credible point; he felt every hair on his body, the way they rose as the cool air pricked heavily as his grimy skin. He felt every heartbeat, heard every breath Stephanie took. The silence of the huge, haunting room suddenly felt too whole, too suffocating. He closed his eyes, craning his ears to hear beyond. Metal clashed on stone. Something droned on and on, a hum in his ears. Voices. Footsteps.

"Matthew?" Stephanie's whisper hit his ears like a yell, and he jumped, gasping.

"He's coming," he stuttered, quickly pulling his hand away from her.

Her gaze narrowed, and he knew she didn't believe him. "What are you?"

"A force to be reckoned with, it seems."

Matthew grimaced and closed his eyes tightly at the sound of the voice above them. Stephanie gave a jolt of surprise.

"You heard me approach even though I made no noise," the Overseer observed.

"I didn't hear him," Stephanie whispered faintly. Matthew could hear the panic in her voice.

"Tell me, boy," the Overseer said. Matthew reluctantly looked up at the man. "Did you really think your work went unnoticed? How do you think your friends were caught so easily?"

"Surveillance cameras," Stephanie said between her teeth, leaning her head back against the stone wall in defeat. She looked at him with haunted eyes.

He stared at her numbly, refusing to let his emotions show. He hadn't even thought of there being cameras in the mines — Feldspar had never had them. Englecon was a much bigger mine, however, and it made sense to have it watched. He wanted to kick himself for his stupidity.

"The prize goes to our ex-soldier," the Overseer said with a thrill in his tone Matthew knew to fear. "Smart girl, tell me, what do we do with those who display disobedience and defiance?"

Stephanie did not reply. Her gaze remained fixated on Matthew, and he forced himself to hold that gaze, to keep his emotions wiped away from her view — she'd find more emotion in the wall behind him. Fear made her breathe heavily, but she held herself similarly: poised, taunt, emotionless for the most part as if she were feeding off of his ambience. There was a hardness gathering in her eyes. She was preparing herself to fight.

"Come on up, boy. I don't think I need to remind you what will happen if you disobey. Your girl is still alive, but she surely won't survive another one of my visits."

Abby was still alive. Matthew's eyes flitted to the wall stained with blood. Her blood. Stephanie followed his gaze and stared.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Matthew pushed himself to his feet, found the grooves he had made in the wall, and slowly began to climb. He took his time, cherishing what it was like to not feel pain. He was about to feel it again very soon.

Cresting the top, he straightened and turned to the man standing across the pit. The Overseer's hand rested on the handle of his dagger, gripping it tightly. This man feared him.

Feared him like one feared a lion he had trapped inside a cage.

The Overseer held out his other hand. "The knife, if you will."

Slowly, Matthew withdrew the knife from his pocket. The man stood on the other side of the pit, silently ordering him to come around and hand it to him peacefully.

Stephanie bounded up the wall with the dexterity and speed of a cat, startling Matthew as she threw herself straight up into the air and snatched the knife from his hand. With a yell, she threw it across the pit at the Overseer. Matthew snatched her arm, yanking her toward him so that she wouldn't fall back into the pit. He heard the Overseer yell. The man stumbled to the ground, Stephanie's well-aimed shot having struck him in the shoulder. Matthew found himself jerked forward as Stephanie dragged him around the edge of the pit toward the wounded man. The Overseer fought to draw his dagger, but Stephanie was on him in a flash, kicking his hand and grasping his weapon. The Overseer ripped the knife from his shoulder and slammed it into her leg. She screamed, falling, and the Overseer was on her in a second, grappling for the dagger.

Matthew closed the distance in seconds, grabbing the Overseer and flinging him off of her. His thoughts screamed at him, conflicting, terrified, but he went after the Overseer anyway. The man had managed to get a hold of the dagger. Matthew tackled him to the ground as he tried getting to his feet. They tumbled across the stone floor. Matthew managed to end up on top, and he lifted his fist.

What are you doing? his thoughts screamed, and for a second he hesitated.

The Overseer smacked the side of Matthew's head with the pommel of the dagger. It was a weak hit, but it threw off Matthew's aim; the Overseer jerked to the side, and Matthew's fist connected with stone. A shock of pain exploded up his arm and he yelled, tumbling to the side as the Overseer threw him off like a little kid.

Stephanie yelled too, throwing herself on top of the man, fighting to get a hold of the weapon. The Overseer was once again on the bottom, grappling with the ex-soldier, and he laughed.

He laughed. A psychotic, disturbing laugh that echoed through the room like evil itself. It must have stunned Stephanie because he easily threw her off of him with a powerful backhanded slap. Matthew heard her gasp of pain as she rolled.

This is insane! Stop! You'll get yourself killed!

Matthew ignored his screaming mind as he pushed Warmth into his aching arm, dulling the pain as he scrambled to his feet and charged the Overseer again. The man was crawling for the dagger, which had been knocked away in his and Stephanie's fight, but Matthew threw himself on top of him, his hands going for the man's throat.

The Overseer's yellow teeth glimmered in a smile even as Matthew's hands wrapped around his throat. Stephanie yelled a warning, but it was too late. Something sharp slashed across Matthew's stomach. Pain exploded in his mind even before he felt it in the actual wound; suddenly, everything seemed to slow. Matthew gasped, his hands slipping off the Overseer's throat to find his bloodied abdomen and the huge gash that gushed forth blood like a fountain. He could taste it. He struggled to breathe, wheezing as he fell back, his shaking hand trying to staunch the flow of blood from the wound and only succeeding in being soaked in it. It pooled around him, thick and warm.

Warmth! His frantic thoughts continued to scream, but they were muddled by the pain, by the shock. He tried to push on the Warmth but it was already there, a blazing fire amidst the agony.

A fire trying to put out an ocean of blood. Matthew's strength was fading. He slumped over, struggling to breathe as the blood seeped into his lungs. Every breath was choked.

"No!" Stephanie screamed. He watched uselessly as she rushed to attack the Overseer and was met by the man's bloodied dagger. She was smart enough not to challenge the steel unarmed.

"You are an Oddity, girl," the Overseer said, his voice ragged. "I should not kill you, but if provoked, I will."

He grabbed her by the arm, wrenching her toward him and holding her against him with the dagger at her neck. She struggled slightly, her eyes on Matthew, the shock and horror etched across her face raw and real as the Overseer dragged her to one of the whipping posts and chained her wrists to it.

The world was spinning. Matthew found the Overseer standing over him, a haze, the blood staining the man's uniform belonging to them both. The man's shoulder still bled, but he didn't seem hindered by it. The dagger hung in the man's bloody hand. Matthew shut his eyes tightly, unable to move, unable to defend himself. His life would end here, and it would mean nothing. Nothing.

"I would end your pitiful life right this moment," the Overseer said calmly, "but... I've always enjoyed watching you suffer."

Grabbing Matthew's leg, the man dragged him across the room and chained him to another whipping post by his ankle. Matthew was left dangling, only his upper back finding leverage on the ground. The blood crept up his shirt, into his lungs, slithering around his neck like a strangling fist. He couldn't breathe.

"Please, stop!" Stephanie cried from somewhere else in the spinning room. "That'll kill him!"

"Your attack was suicide," the Overseer sneered. "Did you expect anything less? I swore he'd die by my hand. You merely helped that proclamation along."

"No, no..." Stephanie's voice was growing distant. Matthew was slipping away. He managed a damp breath.

I don't want to die.

All at once, lying on the floor, choking and dying, Matthew recalled a verse from his childhood. It was from a song his mother had sung to him whenever he had had nightmares. An old song, he had surmised, one that she knew and had taught Lily. He had erased it from his mind long ago.

A verse from it came back to him now. Comforting. Familiar. Staring at the roof as it glazed over in his vision, he whispered it in desperation to the chaos in his mind:

Soon you'll see that dawn will come

And all this pain will wash away

So until, then we'll watch the stars

Knowing soon could be today

Soon could be today

His thoughts stopped screaming. The Warmth spread through him, covering him like a blanket. He closed his eyes.

And took a clear breath.