Englecon Mine, Desmond, 10416 P.C.

It was a long, straight tunnel that led down to where the slaves were mining, and Matthew knew that there wouldn't be any easy way to sneak down it. The opposite direction of the tunnel curved around into a dead end; he could only sense one camera that way. He didn't even know how he sensed the cameras. It was just a feeling — a very accurate feeling as it turned out — and the more he focused on it, the clearer things became and the more he was capable of sensing. There were twenty slaves in the tunnel, each of them with a cuff, paired up to collect whatever they were mining. He remembered when he and Abby had been assigned to that job. That felt like ages ago now.

"Can you free them?" Stephanie whispered from beside him. "I mean, if I took out the cameras, could you free the people?"

Matthew's heart played a frantic beat in his chest. "This is crazy," he said, although it was much too late to turn back.

"Can you?" Stephanie pressed. "Their cuffs are like what I had, aren't they? You shut them down."

"At what cost?" He eyed her neck, which was still a fiery red from being burned. He knew the force field had done that, so it was probably different with the other slaves. He still didn't fully understand how it worked. When he had freed Abby, it hadn't hurt her like it had hurt Stephanie.

"Would you rather just leave them?" Stephanie countered, frowning up at him. "We could use the help."

Matthew clenched his jaw. "And if we're caught? The Overseer will kill them all. He'll kill them and then he'll kill me and where does that leave you, huh?"

"It's the risk we have to take."

"I won't bring innocent people into this."

"They're already in this. They might die if we act but they will die if we don't!"

Matthew squeezed his eyes shut, a burst of anger welling up with him. Not at Stephanie, but at the truth of her words. It was so, so unfair. They were all just existing, waiting for the day when they no longer existed. Life was pain and misery. There was no escaping it. Not unless someone did something.

Lily would have fought. In fact, she had. That's what had gotten her and Jules killed.

No. He had gotten them killed. He had killed his own sisters by doing nothing.

Matthew clenched his fists, jerking on the Warmth as he focused on the cameras down the hallway. He imagined the cameras in his fists, imagined them being crushed between his fingers.

There was an echoing pop in the tunnel. One of the slaves screamed. Matthew gasped, his eyes and fists flying open as he looked around the corner. He no longer sensed the cameras, and he could see why: several of them lay busted on the stone floor of the tunnel, while the rest hung from the wall, crushed by invisible hands. His hands.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"What was that?" Stephanie hissed, and he looked at her, wide eyes meeting wide eyes.

"Well, we don't need to worry about the cameras anymore," Matthew said practically, once he had found his voice. He looked at his hands, noting that they shook a bit. The Warmth seemed the hum in his chest. Athrii was a hum in his mind. He curled his hands into fists again and pushed away from the wall, walking around the corner with more confidence than he felt. Stephanie made a strange noise of surprise and excitement behind him and followed. The tunnel was silent, the slaves lost in muted confusion — keep working or investigate the noise? But as soon as Matthew exposed himself, he heard the smattering of hushed whispers erupt. They knew of him. They had heard of the Boy Who Wouldn't Die.

He stopped just feet from the nearest crate. Beyond him, twenty pairs of eyes stared him down, some even shrinking away from him in fear. He felt terribly exposed. How strangely terrifying he must look to them, dressed in bloodied, ripped clothes, his hair a wild mess and his hands glowing golden. Not to mention that he was paired with a girl with Motch's symbol on her face. He didn't blame them for their obvious fear.

"If you want to fight back," he started, his voice low. Mentally, he picked out each of their cuffs — they were a much more powerful magic than the cameras had been, and there were three times as many. He clenched his teeth. Too many. Focusing solely on the two nearest him, he imagined them twisting open. The slaves bearing them both jumped with gasps as the cuffs fell from their wrists. Matthew exhaled, suddenly breathless. His lips dragged on his next words: "Then fight."

He started forward, focusing on the next two and removing their cuffs. It was exerting, but with each pair he freed, his determination grew, and the Warmth with it. He grabbed three at a time, and then four, pushing his newfound ability, destroying cuffs even as they fell from wrists to floor. Within just seconds, all twenty cuffs were removed and he was surrounded by stunned slaves unsure of how to respond.

One spoke. "It's you," he whispered, staring at Matthew with eyes brimming with sudden hope. "You're him. You're the son of the Creator."

"No, he's not." Matthew quickly looked back at Stephanie, who was watching him with silent admiration, a small smile playing on her lips. "He's something else entirely."

Her eyes shifted behind him. Her smile faded. Like lightning, she dashed forward, snatching a man's axe as she ran past Matthew and, with a yell, swung it at the slave master who had just come around the corner. Matthew stepped back, mouth open in shock, unable to turn away from the sight of the axe buried in the man's chest. The man himself looked shocked before he collapsed at Stephanie's feet, dead eyes staring.

Stephanie, still gripping the axe, turned back around to them. Adjusting her grip on the axe, she straightened her shoulders and spoke calmly, yet firmly. "You heard him. Fight!" With that, she turned and marched around the corner the dead man had just come around.

No one moved for a second. All eyes shifted to Matthew, and he knew his next move would make or break them. The sudden murder shouldn't have surprised him so much. What was he expecting to do, turn the slave masters on their king with a few choice words? To fight meant to kill. It meant to the death. There was no escaping it now. This blasted girl had walked into his life and forced him to act, and now it was do or die. He exhaled, glancing around at the people he had freed and most likely doomed. This... right here and now, this was the rebellion.

Kylie's face flashed in his mind. "You are a coward."

No, he decided, letting the glow in his fists grow brighter. I am something else entirely.

Resolute and determined, Matthew strode after Stephanie, leading their new recruits into battle.