Vex

  Vex’s hand trembled as she pressed the hidden button beneath her desk. A small compartment slid open, revealing the dark grey paper she kept tucked away. She forced her fingers to steady as she wrote, signed her name, then rolled the sheet and sealed it. She did the same two more times.

  Crossing the room, she brushed her palm along the frame of the painting on the wall. It showed two men straining against a massive boulder, each pushing in opposite directions, neither gaining an inch, locked in eternal stalemate.

  She exhaled and spoke the phrase.

  “Let the futility end.”

  The painting slid aside, revealing a device no more elaborate than a shallow drawer. She set the sealed notes inside the transporter and hesitated, just long enough to feel the weight of what she was about to set in motion.

  For the first time in more than a century, Vex offered a prayer to the System. “Please protect us all for what is coming.”

  Alice

  The training hall of Lukehaven stretched out like a cathedral built for war. Its ceiling arched high above Alice’s head, lost somewhere in the shadows, while the left wall was dominated by a mosaic of stained glass so massive it seemed to hold the entire sky captive. Sunlight poured through the colored panes, scattering across the polished stone floor in fractured blues, reds, and golds. The rampart lay beyond and every now and then she could make out the silhouette of a guard walking. The walls were covered in thick stone; picturesque double wooden doors were at the end of the hall that led out to the courtyard.

  Alice stared at those doors every day. She had never been allowed to reach them. Sager’s boot slammed into her ribs, sending her skidding across the floor. Pain flared white-hot, stealing her breath. She curled instinctively, arms wrapped around her torso, but Sager was already stalking forward, her shadow stretching long across the stained-glass light.

  “Come on, Alice,” Sager drawled, voice dripping with mock encouragement. “All you have to do is make it to the double doors. Or...” she gestured lazily toward the mosaic “...cast a spell strong enough to shatter the glass. Do that, and you and your daughter will be free to go.”

  Alice spat blood onto the floor. “Liar.”

  Sager smiled. “I’ll even give you a head start before I come find you.”

  Alice knew better. Even if the offer were real, and it wasn’t, a “head start” from Sager would amount to a single step outside before she was beaten down again, this time with Liz in her arms. Sager wasn’t offering freedom. She was offering cruelty dressed up as hope.

  Alice pushed herself up onto her elbows. One eye was swollen shut; the other burned with sweat and blood. Her entire body throbbed, but her regeneration was already knitting bone and sealing torn muscle. She’d be able to move again soon. She always was.

  That was the problem. Sager circled her like a predator. “You should just give up. Months of training, and you’ve shown nothing. No talent. No spark. Just regeneration. That’s all you are. A punching bag that gets back up.”

  Alice’s fingers curled into fists. “If I can land one strike,” she thought, “just one… I’ll call it a victory.”

  Alice surged to her feet, ignoring the screaming protest of her half-healed ribs. She lunged forward, swinging with everything she had. For a heartbeat, she thought she might actually connect.

  Sager blurred.

  One moment she was in front of Alice, the next she was behind her, a whisper of movement too fast to track. A fist slammed into Alice’s spine, sending her stumbling forward. She caught herself on trembling legs, spun, and attacked again.

  Faster. Harder. Desperate. Every time she got close, Sager simply sped up, effortless, mocking, untouchable.

  Alice’s breath came in ragged gasps. Her vision swam. She swung again, and Sager caught her wrist mid-strike, twisting until Alice cried out. “You can’t win,” Sager murmured. “You can’t even level your stats. You’re trapped here. Weak. Forever.”

  Alice’s knees buckled. Sager released her, letting her collapse onto the cold stone.

  She lay there, chest heaving, staring at the stained glass mosaic. The colors blurred together, shimmering like a distant dream. Freedom was on the other side of those doors. Power was on the other side of those doors. The ability to level, to grow, to fight back.

  But she would never reach them.

  Not while Sager lived.

  Her thoughts drifted, unbidden, unwanted to her brother. Where was he? Was he safe? Was he hurt? Was he even alive?

  She still believed in him. She had to. Belief was all she had left. But every day that passed, every beating she endured, every bruise that healed only to be replaced by another… the fear grew. What if he was dead? What if he wasn’t coming?

  What if she was truly alone? A tear slipped down her cheek, stinging the cut beneath her eye.

  Sager crouched beside her, tilting Alice’s chin up with a gloved finger. “Look at you. Crying. Pathetic. You’ll never make it to those doors like that. Let me tell you a secret." Sager vanished and Alice felt warm breath on her ear as Sager whispered. "You’ll never cast a spell strong enough to break that glass, it would take a spell well over the power level of a level 100 Elite, to even put a scratch on that glass. You’ll never get that strong, so you will never leave.”

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  Alice jerked her head away, but Sager only chuckled and moved back in front of her. “Again,” she ordered.

  Alice forced herself upright. Her regeneration had already sealed the worst of the damage. Her ribs were whole. Her spine no longer burned. Her muscles trembled but obeyed.

  She charged.

  Sager sidestepped, sweeping Alice’s legs out from under her. Alice hit the ground hard, but she rolled, came up swinging, and forced Sager to take a single step back.

  A single step. Alice froze.

  Sager’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t get excited. That wasn’t you. I was adjusting my stance.”

  Alice didn’t care. She’d pushed Sager back. For one heartbeat, she’d made her move. She attacked again, fueled by that tiny spark of defiance. Sager met her with a flurry of blows, faster than Alice could see, faster than she could react. Each strike landed with brutal precision. Alice staggered, fell, rose, fell again.

  Her regeneration kept her alive. It did not make her strong. Sager’s final kick sent her crashing into the stone wall. The impact rattled her teeth. She slumped forward, palms pressed to the floor, blood dripping from her nose.

  Sager approached slowly, savoring the moment. “You’ll never leave this hall,” she said. “You’ll never see your daughter grow up. You’ll never see your brother again.”

  Alice’s head snapped up. “Don’t talk about them.”

  Sager smirked. “Why not? Why do you even care, if the Outlier actually cared he would have already shown up and your daughter won't even remember you existed when she grows up without you.”

  Alice screamed and lunged. Sager caught her by the throat and threw her upwards. She slammed her back against the stained glass. The mosaic didn't so much as tremble.

  Alice fell and hit the ground in a heap, vision dimming. Spots danced before her eyes. Her lungs burned. She barely heard Sager's venomous voice say, “I am out of time. I will see you the same time tomorrow,” she said, turning away. “Maybe you’ll surprise me. But I doubt it.”

  Alice lay there long after Sager left, staring at the double doors across the hall. Her body healed. Her spirit frayed. But somewhere deep inside, beneath the pain and fear and exhaustion… A spark still burned.

  Be alive you big dummy… please be alive.

  Marcilla

  Marcilla shifted Liz in her arms, rocking the infant gently. Alice lay on the bed beside her, one eye swollen shut, the other barely open. Bruises bloomed across her cheekbones and jaw in ugly purples and blacks.

  Alice exhaled a shaky breath. “Thank you for holding Liz. The only good thing about getting beat half to death every day is that my regeneration Talent is up to level three. She half laughed half wheezed. "It should have me moving again in a few hours.”

  Marcilla glanced down. Liz blinked up at her, tiny fingers curling around the edge of Marcilla’s sleeve. The baby’s smile was small, soft, impossibly trusting. It hit Marcilla harder than any blow she’d ever taken.

  They’d all grown close, closer than she ever expected when she’d first been assigned to “guard” the hostage. Months of shared fear, Sager had taken to beating her down as well, when she had tried to get the Elite to stop from killing Alice in one of their training sessions. She knew the truth now. Alice’s brother was an Outlier. And Carson kept Alice and Liz here as leverage, a leash wrapped around a force of nature. Worse, Liz herself might carry the spark. Another potential Outlier. Another weapon.

  Marcilla looked at the baby again, her chest tightening. Sager had noticed her helping Alice out with Liz and started doing "training sessions" with her as well. She was still recovering from their last session and had stayed here to watch baby. She had been relieved of her duties by Sager and they were both watched by two senior members of Blackthorn. She was not treated as a prisoner but as one that was not compromised. They weren't wrong.

  Auntie Marcilla loves you. The thought came unbidden, warm and painful all at once.

  She had to get them out. Somehow. But she couldn’t do it alone. She needed a faction willing to take the risk, willing to protect a mother and child even if it meant drawing the ire of the Shattered Blades. If she approached the wrong people, she’d be dead before she finished the sentence. If she approached the right ones… maybe, just maybe, they would have a chance.

  Her gaze drifted to Alice, then back to the baby nestled against her chest.

  Sager wouldn’t hesitate. If the captain saw an opportunity, any opportunity, she’d kill Alice and then the child without blinking. Marcilla had seen that hunger in her eyes. That cruelty.

  Her next off?day was in two days. Two days to decide whether she was willing to gamble her life on a whisper of hope. Two days to reach out to the few contacts she trusted and see if any of them were brave, or desperate enough to help.

  She tightened her hold on Liz, feeling the baby’s warmth seep into her arms.

  She didn’t know if anyone would say yes. She didn’t know if she’d survive the attempt.

  But she knew one thing with absolute certainty.

  If she did nothing, Sager would finish what she’d started.

  And Alice and Liz would not live to see another month.

  Marcilla swallowed hard, brushing a thumb across Liz’s cheek.

  Two days.

  That was all the time she had to change everything.