There is a gun pressed against the girl’s skull. She’s growing accustomed to the feeling. Metal bites into her scalp, impressing a perfect circle upon the soft skin. If she closes her eyes she can smell gunpowder and the musty tang of dried blood.

It’s too early for this shit.

“Third time this week. Well, at least you’re persistent,” she snarls, clenching her hands into fists to keep them from shaking. Not in fear, of course, but at the rage pulsing behind each eyelid, threatening to take over if she gives it control. “You know that doesn’t work, right? The whole shooty-shooty thing?” She grins, twisting and snatching the gun from the man’s still fingers in a fluid motion, stepping back to admire the pistol in her hands.

“Sorry, pretty girl. Didn’t mean to scare you,” the man whispers, greasy red tongue flicking over yellowing teeth. He turns away with a cackle, bumping fists with the men gathered around the bar. She takes a rattling breath, wrinkling her nose at the smell of alcohol cloaking these men. They were supposed to be on patrol, not drinking themselves numb. She tightens her fists, letting her fingernails sink into her palms. Control. She must keep control.

“Where’s our beer, b***ch?” One of them jeers. The others join in, predatory eyes raking over her body. That’s it. She pivots, arms taught, and curls her fingers into a practiced fist. She freezes as a gentle finger brushes the inside of her elbow. Luca. Shame blossoms in her gut. She promised she would try harder yet here she is, about to throw fists with the people she is supposed to be leading. She looks up at him, but he doesn’t meet her eyes.

“The girl has a name, you know,” Luca murmurs, addressing the men at the bar.

It’s not a bar, not really. Just a front, the crumbling facade of a gang that was once the most respected in Frey. They weren’t a gang then. Locals called them “The Gentlemen.” They were feared, but their dominance was rarely contested. It was convenient for the other gangs to step away from the messy business, back to their turf wars and big talk and let someone with more weapons handle the government Myriad had created.

It had worked. In a world where rebellion had been crushed, ground into dust by Myriad’s heel, the Gentlemen had made a pocket of Frey impenetrable. For three years they were immortal -unstoppable- all thanks to The Baron, a leader with more blood on his hands than skin. When he died they were reduced to this. A gang of nobodies led by a teenager with anger management issues.

Luca tenses beside the girl, glaring at the men around them.

“She has a name. You will use it.”

“Oh, that’s right, sweetie! I almost forgot. Aster- after the flower. Because that’s all you are, isn’t it? Some petals stuck together with daddy’s love? Careful, flower. You may not bleed, but one of these days somebody is going to find your weakness, and you will crumble. Crumble until there is nothing left- ashes to the wind- Just. Like. Your. Daddy.”

The bar goes silent.

The man’s friends look on in mute horror. It may be open season for insults on Aster, but nobody-NOBODY- insults The Baron. Resignedly, Luca releases her arm.

She swings. A snap echoes across the bar. It’s a nice hook, even for Aster’s standards, and blood gushes from the broken nose. He grunts, and steps back from the bar. Suddenly, his skin ripples, forearms growing as the muscle thickens. Soon the portly man looms a foot over Aster, seething as blood trickles down his chest. A Builder. With enough calories in their system they can build muscle at will. He grins, yellow teeth glinting in the dim lights, and tightens a rippling fist.

Aster laughs- a bitter, spiteful thing.

“Go on. Hit me.” She snarls. The man hesitates, eyes going wide when he realizes his mistake. He looks behind him, seeking affirmation from his cronies, but they are fascinated with the floor, refusing to make eye contact. He growls and his muscles return to their original size, blood pulsing out of his nose faster than before. He gently touches it with a filthy finger, flinching when it comes away covered in crimson.

“Oh, does that hurt?” Aster croons. “I wouldn’t know. I can’t bleed, remember? It would do you well to remember that.”

Turning away she stalks into the back room of the bar, doing her best to ignore the snickering that follows her. These days, it never seems to end. She walks confidently, looking in disgust at the blood covering her fist from the man’s nose. Above the bar there is a little room, scarcely more than a closet, with a bed reeking of mildew stuffed inside. Aster stalks to the bed, sitting with a resigned sigh as she picks her father’s pocket knife off of the nightstand, running the dull blade under her fingernails.

Luca sits beside her, resting a gentle hand on her shoulder. Aster hadn’t noticed him following her from the bar, and jumps suddenly at the contact.

“Out. Get out,” she growls, glaring at her friend.

“No. That doesn’t work with me, remember? The whole ‘angry girl’ thing,” Luca whispers, pulling her into a hug. It’s too much. A hiccup sounds from Aster’s throat, and suddenly she is sobbing in Luca’s arms, shaking, hoping he will be able to piece her back together after she falls apart. They sit in silence, Luca gently stroking her back.

“Damn Enthopath,” Aster whispers when the tears stop streaming down her face. Luca lets out a low laugh. She sighs. It isn’t fair that he can read her emotions, break through the walls she has so carefully built around herself.

“C’mon, Ace- lets get you cleaned up,” he whispers, coaxing her to the bathroom, wiping the blood off her trembling knuckles with a damp rag.

“Do you want to know the worst part?” Aster whispers. “I didn’t even know his name.”

“What?”

“The man I punched. I don’t even know his name. The Baron knew everyone who worked for him, and here I am, trying to take his place, with nothing. Not even a stupid name.”

“Y’know, some kids call their dad pops or daddy, not ‘The Baron’,” Luca chuckles.

“Yeah? Well some kids don’t have gangsters for parents. Some kids have parents who aren’t dead. Some kids aren’t trying to run a gang,” Aster snaps, pivoting towards him with tears brimming in her eyes. She looks towards the ceiling, blinking hard, cursing under her breath at her moment of weakness. Luca takes her shoulder, concern written across his face.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to come off like that. I know you’re under a lot of pressure right now,” he mutters.

“It’s not you. It’s just… everything is falling apart, and I only have myself to blame.” Aster whispers. Luca is silent, biting his lower lip. She turns back towards him, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

“It’s just… I came to tell you- Never mind. Now isn’t a good time,” Luca mutters, looking away.

“What is it? I’ve known you long enough to tell when you’re keeping something from me.”

“It’s really not that important… I just…”

“Luca. Talk. Now.”

“Fallon is going to challenge you for the title tonight,” Luca says, stumbling over himself in an effort to get the words out.

Aster sits on the counter, numb. She isn’t surprised. Fallon had been moving against her since The Gentlemen began to fall apart. He was her father’s second in command, built like a tank with more bloodlust than could possibly be healthy. When The Baron passed his title onto his teenage daughter instead of a hardened warrior Fallon was furious. Honestly, it was a miracle it had taken this long for him to make a move. Six months. Had it really been that long since the murder?

Luca swipes at Aster’s knuckles with the rag, snapping her out of her thoughts. She flinches in pain as fresh blood wells up from the cuts in her knuckles.

“Ace,” Luca whispers disapprovingly, glancing at the bathroom door to make sure it is locked. “You have to try harder than this. You know we’re screwed if someone sees you bleed. With all the fear you were giving off today when that man pulled the gun on you it’s a wonder someone hasn’t seen through your lies already.”

“What can I say? I’m a good actor,” Aster smiles, trying to sell the joke, but it falls flat. She was lucky none of the other men in the bar were Enthopaths or they would have seen right through her act. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re lucky it’s still winter. You can get away with wearing gloves to hide the cuts… but when summer comes you’ve gotta take more care, alright?” He lectures, wrapping her knuckles and helping her slide a glove onto each hand.

“I will… If I’m still alive after tonight,” Aster whispers.

“Don’t say that. You are going to be fine,” Luca growls, a bit too forcefully. He takes his hand away from the bandage, but not fast enough to keep Aster from feeling it tremble.

He tries to put on a brave face, but he is just as scared as she is. Aster finds it odd that someone in this world still cares if she makes it through the night. Luca is more of a father figure than The Baron ever was, despite only being a year older than her. They had grown up together, playing hopscotch around broken glass in the alleys, seeing if Luca could guess her emotions from opposite sides of the street when he turned 15 and gained his Instinct.

Everyone gained their Instinct after 15 when they were “snapped”. For the Instinct to take effect your adrenaline has to peak. The rich kids get it medically done, a shot of adrenaline to the wrist and they wake up the next morning with some incredible new ability. Nobody in Frey has that kind of money. Instead kids steal candy off the drugstore shelves and get their adrenaline high from running through the streets followed by the Enforcers. It doesn’t always work out. Stumble once and you won’t know your power before they cart you off to the Keep. That’s how Myriad gets his servants.

Aster grimances at the thought of his wretched name. A silver blade slashing through The Baron’s windpipe while she watched, helpless, flashes through her mind. Myriad murdered her father. He… She blinks the thought away.

Her father was by no means a good man. He was old fashioned, believed in snapping his children the ‘right’ way. Three years after the fact her back still throbs as she imagines that whip crashing down, always down, upon her back, until she couldn’t feel the pain any more. Her Instinct was supposed to be magnificent, the daughter of a god… but she was nothing. In a society where your Instinct is the only thing keeping you alive Aster was powerless. A defect in her father’s flawless plan.

The Baron started the rumor about her being incapable of bleeding, more for the sake of his own pride than his daughter’s protection. It wasn’t difficult to believe. He was bulletproof, after all. Feared my many, worshipped by still more… until Myriad found his weakness. Blades are not bullets. A single slit to the throat and the first uprising in Myriad’s 50 year reign was gone, bleeding out in the night without so much as a murmur of pain.

He never saw the assassin coming.

Aster thinks it’s odd how you can mourn someone in death you loathed in life, but life is funny like that.

A gentle knock sounds at the bathroom door.

“Are you guys in there?” A quiet voice asks. Luca’s eyes go wide, looking at the blood splattered across the sink basin, an open package of bandages on the counter.

Luca was the only person who knew Aster’s Instinct was a lie. As an Enthopath, he could see past the facade of confidence she tried to plaster around herself right to the consuming fear pounding in her ears each time a gun was pressed against her skull. One shot. That’s all it would take.

Aster presses a finger to her lips, easing off of the counter, and motions for Luca to take her place. She opens the door in a fluid motion, grinning at the mousey boy on the other side.

“Hey, Oscar! I totally forgot you were coming over this morning! This dumbass can be pretty distracting,” she rolls her eyes, hooking a thumb over her shoulder at Luca. Oscar takes in the blood on the counter and all but leaps into the room, fear in his eyes.

“Luca! Are you alright? Why didn’t you call me? You know my Instinct is Healing, right? I can help,” Oscar squeaks, running a panicked hand through his messy hair. “Where are you hurt?” Luca looks up, his face a mask of mute horror.

For someone so good at seeing through lies, he had never been particularly talented at telling them.

“Nah, don’t worry about it, Ozzie,” Aster chuckles. She wraps a bandage around Luca’s unharmed knuckles before Oscar can see them. “Some of The Gentlemen were giving me a hard time and Luca threw a punch. He’s barely hurt, but you should see the other guy! This blood is mostly his,” she chuckles, rolling her eyes. Luca nods, looking relieved.

“Yeah, sorry for the scare, Oz,” he laughs, tousling the smaller boy’s hair.

“Oh, don’t… don’t worry about it, I just… gotta, I just gotta- Nevermind,” Oscar stutters, awkwardly patting his hair back into place. Luca grins, watching him squirm.

“So, are ya jealous that I got one on one time with my girlfriend?” Luca jokes, making obnoxious kissing noises in Aster’s ear.

“Jerk,” Aster rolls her eyes, delivering a light punch to his gut.

“Ow! Jeez, Ace. I’m hurt, remember?” Luca whimpers, covering his bandaged knuckles protectively, giving Aster a knowing look. She rolls her eyes.

“Oh please. We all know Ace is my girlfriend,” Oscar grins, his previous awkwardness fading.

“You two are awful,” Aster whines, chuckling as she shoves Oscar away from her. This was the boys favorite running joke, and as stupid as it was, their antics always made her smile.

That was better than wasting away, trying to hold a gang together when each action brought them further apart. It wouldn’t matter for much longer, though. Tonight, in one way or another, everything would change. Fallon would challenge her for the title, which would inevitably give him control of The Gentlemen when they crowned him Baron. It is nearly impossible to win a fight against a Smith.

With his instinct Fallon could control metal. One graze of her arm and everyone would know Aster could bleed. Even if she won the fight and kept the title nobody would follow her. The few Gentlemen who still followed Aster only did so because they thought she was immortal. They feared her Instinct, as fake as that instinct may be. Without fear, she had nothing.

“Earth to Ace,” Oscar falters, waving a timid hand in front of her face.

“Mmm? Oh. Sorry.”

“You have that look again.

“What look?”

“The one that seems like you have the world on your shoulders.”

“Oh. Sorry Oz,” Aster mumbles, wrapping her arms around herself. Luca rests a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Ace. I’ll be in the crowd tonight- near the front. If it gets too heated I’ll be there, ok?” He squeezes her shoulder, and checks his watch. “I’m running security detail on the north perimeter in twenty minutes, I have to get over there.”

“Wasn’t your security shift last hour?” Aster asks, concerned.

“Yeah, but people keep ditching their shifts. I figured those on duty could use some extra help. See ya!” Luca bounds out of the door, a dopey smile on his face. How could he afford to be so optimistic? The only life they had ever known was crumbling around them, and yet he seemed to think working harder would solve everything, as if this mess was somehow his fault. How could he still stand by her side knowing Aster was the only one to blame?

Oscar crosses to the window, watching as Luca bounds onto the street below, his ever-confident gait carrying him across the square. He turns once, gives a mocking salute towards the window, and is out of sight in the next moment.

Oscar’s eyes linger just a little too long on Luca’s retreating figure before he turns to help clean blood from the sink.

Aster could hear them. The whispers on the street below shook the walls- walls that were never thick enough to begin with. She pulls her hair back with shaking hands, forcing out each shuddering breath.

It had been three hours. Three hours of staring at the ceiling, knowing what she had to do but being unable to do it. Now, the time has come.

The choice was simple, really. Forcing her hands to still she steps out to the street below.

People line the square. Aster had forgotten how many Gentlemen there were. Only a handful bother to attend her meetings. She forces her chin up as she steps into the square, forcing a smile of grim determination upon her lips as she climbs atop the platform, ignoring the slurs whispered at her back. The Baron used to give his speeches here. It was where he seized power over The Gentlemen… and where Aster risks losing it.

Within moments the whispered slurs give way to furious screams. Aster resists the urge to clamp her hands over her ears.

She feels a pebble ricochet off her back, bringing with it a sharp sting. It takes all of her willpower to keep looking forwards. Inwardly she is grateful she had thought to wear a black shirt. The color hid her blood much more effectively.

She walks to the center of the platform.

Oscar stands in the front of the crowd, looking up at the platform with fearful eyes. Aster tries to catch his eye, but Oscar has turned to the crowd, scanning anxiously. For a moment Aster wonders why Luca isn’t standing with him. The friends were nearly inseparable and Luca promised to be here if anything went wrong. Panic spikes in Aster, but her attention is snapped away from scanning the crowd as the platform creaks behind her.

Fallon steps up. There are streaks of grey in his black hair, and a scar that runs from his eye to his mouth, curling his lips in a permanent scowl. Here, lit by the flickering streetlights, he seems ready to snap Aster in half. He extends a hand to his side and several of the bolts holding the platform together rip free, crumbling to dust in his hands. With a flourish he throws it into the crowd as if it is confetti. They roar, chanting his name until it becomes an unintelligible drone.

The last time The Gentlemen cheered this way it was for Aster’s father. For a moment her lip quivers tratariously, but she bites down on it. Hard. Now is not the time for weakness.

Fallon steps to the front of the stage, voice booming as he addresses the crowd.

“Brothers. Gentlemen. We have anticipated this day for a long time. Look at us: a filthy group of mongrels, raiding shops just so we have food to put on our tables at the end of the day.” A roar of outrage echoes from the crowd. “We used to be more than this. We used to be the heart of rebellion, feared by Myriad himself. And now? Now we are nothing. Because of her.” He extends his arm, pointing at Aster with a fury she had never seen in him. Could this be the same man who once stood behind her father, always so patient and calm?

Aster still remembers that day, years ago, when he had brought her an orange. Fruit was never shipped to Frey. Nobody had enough money to buy it, and even if they did, Myriad had banned its import to the city. Fallon brought out his knife to cut the fruit, rubbing brown flakes of blood off the tarnished surface before cutting the orange into neat slices for her. If she closed her eyes she could still pretend she was that little kid, giggling as the sticky fruit dripped down her chin.

But she was not a little girl anymore, and this was not the man who brought her oranges. Aster barely keeps from flinching as another rock ricochets off her shoulder. Fallon continues his monologue.

“Tonight, as it has been done since The Gentlemen were founded, I will seize the title of Baron. The first warrior to surrender or give their life loses the title. To attack one may use any means necessary.” He grins at this, spinning a small bar of metal on his fingertips, as if to remind everyone that he is a Smith. With me as your leader we can control metal itself, his spinning fingers seem to say.

Despite the urgency of the situation, Aster finds herself scanning the crowd once again for Luca. She can’t find him.

“Aster,” Fallon growls from across the platform.

“Y-yes?” She stumbles, forcing herself to look away from the crowd.

“Answer my question.”

“What question?”

“I said, are you ready to begin?” The crowd snickers. Aster can almost hear their thoughts.

Who does she think she is? Can’t even answer a simple question.

She hesitates, making eye contact with Oscar in the crowd. He mouths something she can’t hear, pushing his hands away from his body. Go.

She wants to. She wants to turn and drive her fist into Fallon’s throat, this man who has the audacity to humiliate her in front of those she leads, but deep in her gut there is a sense of wrongness. She turns to Fallon.

“Luca isn’t here,” she whispers.

“What?” He chuckles, running a hand through his hair. “Trying to distract me? You know you cannot stop this. The right to challenge for title has been set in stone from the day The Gentlemen were created.” The crowd cheers wildly at this.

“No,” she hisses, voice cracking. “You don’t understand. Luca. Isn’t. Here.” Fallon’s eyes go wide. He looks up at the crowd.

“Who knows Luca’s location?” he booms, his typically fearless tone laced with undercurrents of anxiety. Those assembled whisper among themselves, shifting from foot to foot. Nobody comes forwards.

Suddenly, the harsh glow of headlights illuminate the square. A motorbike squeals past those assembled. They shy away from the vehicle like rats in an alleyway, some letting out yelps of fear.

Technology is rare in Frey. Anyone with enough money to purchase a motorbike had left the city long ago. The only bikes left belonged to Enforcers- Myriad’s way of enforcing the laws he had created. A woman steps from the bike, pulling a helmet etched with Myriad’s silhouette off her head before approaching the platform. The crowd parts around her, seeming to shrink as she passes. Fallon freezes as the woman approaches him, a familiar piece of paper in her hand.

Discipline order. The words flash through Aster’s mind, and suddenly the air leaves her lungs. Not Luca. It couldn’t be for Luca.

“Are you the father of Lucas Grey?” The woman asks, voice bitter. Fallon swallows, tightening his fists at his sides.

“Luca? Yeah. He’s my kid. What about it?”

“This is his discipline order. He was caught defying Myriad an hour ago. I am sure you are aware of our strict regulations regarding harassing government employees?” The woman thrusts the paper towards Fallon.

“Yes, but..”

“Your son attacked an Enforcement officer. He deserves execution, but Myriad is kind. he will spend a life sentence serving our ruler instead.”

“LUCA WOULD NEVER ATTACK-” The woman cuts Fallon off, extending a hand towards his chest.

“Are you suggesting that Myriad has made a mistake?” Her words are sweet, honey dripping over broken glass. Her fingers twitch, a spark of electricity crackling between each fingertip. A Tazer. They were Myriad’s first choice for law enforcement. One brush of their fingers and you would be knocked unconscious… or worse. She extends her fingers. They are mere inches from Fallon now- close enough for Aster to hear the buzzing coming from them.

“Of course not. Myriad makes no mistakes,” Fallon spits bitterly, taking the paper from the woman. The buzzing hand returns to her side.

The woman turns, strides across the square to her bike, and is gone in a matter of moments.

The square is silent. Aster makes eye contact with Oscar and something breaks within her. His eyes are brimming with tears. She had known Oscar for under a year- he was living on the streets before Luca found him on patrol and brought him to The Gentlemen. He was a quiet kid, all angles and bones. He used to remind Aster of an alley rat, scuttling away at the slightest noise. He was a spiteful kid when Luca first introduced him to Aster, always looking to pick a fight, but over time his sharp edges had softened. Luca had that effect on people.

Now, though, Luca was gone. Aster wraps her arms around herself, rocking back and forth on the stage.

“He didn’t attack that guard. Luca would never do something like that,” she whispers, fighting back tears.

“No, he didn’t attack anyone,” Fallon seethes, new hatred glinting in his eyes as he looks at Aster. He steps away, turning towards the front of the podium.

“My son was taken today. By Myriad. He was on patrol, keeping us safe from intruders on the north perimeter. Who was on patrol with him?” The crowd is silent. “I said who was on patrol with him?” Fallon is screaming now, tears dripping down his face. Nobody steps forwards. “That’s right. Nobody was on patrol because she is leading us. She has abandoned us all.” He flicks a thumb in Aster’s direction.

Aster growls, a quiet sound deep in her throat. It was just like Fallon to use his son’s capture as leverage to gain the title.

It was ironic to hear Fallon talk about being abandoned. Fallon hadn’t talked to his son in four months, ever since they had an argument and he kicked Luca out of the house. Luca refused to tell Aster what it was about. She only knew that he had shown up in her room one night, his left eye swollen shut. She called Oscar and he was able to heal the skin, but he couldn’t make the pain go away. That was the first time she had seen Luca cry, as Oscar held Luca’s head in his lap, gently resting his fingertips on the swollen skin, a faint light pulsing from them as the black eye faded.

How could Fallon stand before The Gentlemen, forcing a tear to his eye when he was the one who abandoned his son in the first place? Ever since the fight Luca had been picking up more and more guard shifts to keep away from his father.

Aster bites her lip. Who was she kidding? Yes, maybe it was Fallon’s fault that Luca was on that shift, but it was her fault he was alone. Nobody respected her enough to show up for their assigned guard duties. For them there was nothing left of The Gentlemen worth protecting.

Fallon continues to drone on.

“Luca will be killed by Myriad because of her. I am sick of this, dancing around our leader because she can’t bleed. She doesn’t have to bleed, though. She just has to surrender, and immortality doesn’t make you incapable of pain. We fight. Now.” Tin cans and bottle caps lying in the square suddenly hurtle towards Fallon’s hand, forming a crude club. He hefts the monstrosity easily, turning on Aster without a spark of remorse in his eyes. She knows what she must do.

“No,” she whispers.

“What?”

“No,” she says, raising her voice. “I will not fight you. For six months now I have been your Baron, picking up this mantle in the name of defending my father’s honor. I know I have failed. I have failed you all. I surrender.”

With a numb hand Aster takes her father’s pin out of her breast pocket. It is suspended in the air for a moment, glinting in the dim street light before Fallon catches it, looking in disbelief at the rusting metal in his hand.

“I’m sorry,” Aster yells, addressing the crowd. “Fallon does not deserve this medal. I can see the thirst for power in his eyes… but he will lead you better than I have. I know you will not forgive me for the hardship I have inflicted upon you, but I hope this can be a step towards making amends.”

As Aster leaves the stage the insults typically hurled at her are absent. She walks to the bar in silence, breaking a little inside as the joyous shouts of victory echo from the square behind her.

Fallon holds the pin high in the air, grinning as if he had slain a dragon instead of overthrowing a teenager.

Someone finds a speaker and music begins, screams of joy echoing into the night. Aster finds herself wondering if they even care that Luca is gone. As Baron she tried to bring these people closer together, to create a world where they could depend on one another. She should have known better. In Frey you look out for yourself and only yourself. Her twisted ideals never stood a chance.

Aster enters her room, perching on the edge of the mattress. The last time she was here Luca sat beside her. Now she is alone. She fishes a ratty backpack from the corner, filling it with the few possessions she has left. A change of clothes, a small revolver, and her father’s knife. She hesitates before adding this, wondering if she even deserves his parting gift, but stuffs it in the bag anyway.

The Gentlemen may have forgotten about her for the time being, lost in the frenzy of celebration and new beginnings, but Aster knew it wouldn’t last. She had to get out of here.

She pauses for a moment, letting a single tear make its way down her cheek. Then, she takes a deep breath, forcing all feeling deep into the pit of her stomach. It was better to be numb. She would have time to think about Luca later.

Pulling a black coat over her ratty t-shirt she makes her way down the steps to the bar, knowing exactly which ones to skip to keep them from creaking. She has lived in this musty room her whole life, and though it had never felt like home it was certainly better than being alone on the streets.

Sometimes, though, you have no choice.

She hesitates upon entering the bar, listening to air rattle through the ancient vents.

Something is wrong. Someone is here.

A part of her welcomes this- welcomes the rush of adrenaline that fills her veins. It pushes all thoughts of Luca from her mind.

Silently she eases her backpack to the ground, taking the revolver out of a side pocket. She waits for several agonizing moments before something glints in the darkness. There- in the corner.

With a fluid motion she flings herself through the air, landing on her knees and sliding as she nears the corner. Effortlessly she twists her hands around the man’s neck, putting him in a headlock before he can cry out. A moment of adrenaline-filled fury passes before she realizes the familiarity of the gasps echoing from the man’s throat. She releases her arms at once.

“Oh my god. Oz, I’m so sorry. Are you alright? I didn’t mean to… well, I did, but I didn’t know…” Aster is frantic. Finding her flashlight in the darkness she quickly locates the boy’s crumpled form. He lets out a muffled groan and Aster breathes a sigh of relief.

“Sorry, Ace. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Oscar coughs, sitting up. His cheeks are a bright red, sparkling where tears have trickled down. “Luca always says I’m too quiet when I enter a room. I just wanted to say goodbye before you left,” he mumbles.

Silently, Aster pulls him into a tight hug. He tenses, but soon goes limp in her arms, chest heaving as he sobs quietly.

“You should come with me,” Aster whispers. “I’ve seen the way The Gentlemen treat you, throwing you to the ground as if you aren’t one of them. Before they kept their distance out of respect for Luca, or rather, Luca’s father. Now they’ll eat you alive.”

“You know I can’t go back to the streets,” Oscar whispers. “I was dying when Luca found me. Not physically, but it got a little harder every day to wake up, to force myself to eat something. I can’t go back there again.”

“I know,” Aster mumbles resignedly, climbing to her feet. She helps Oscar up and stumbles to retrieve her abandoned backpack.

“You could have beat Fallon, you know,” Oscar says. “I’ve never seen you fight, but I didn’t know you were in here until you had me in a headlock. I was talking to one of The Gentlemen and he said you broke a Builder’s nose. Why did you surrender?”

Aster crosses to the window, looking at the people dancing outside.

“I wanted to bring Myriad to his knees,” she chuckles. “These people just want to survive. They don’t want a revolution driven by revenge. They just want a leader.”

“But you are a leader,” Oscar says, joining Aster by the window.

“No. I’m not.”

Oscar shakes his head sadly. “You don’t understand. When my parents were killed by Myriad I swore to never be a part of something again. It seemed like that was the only way to keep from being hurt. I came to The Gentlemen because Luca forced me.”

Oscar hesitates, as if wondering if he should continue. After a moment he does. “I was going to leave the next night, you know. Walk to that bridge by the river. The one people go to when they’re ready to die. I think I had been ready for a long time.” He goes silent, looking into the night sadly.

“But you’re still here.”

“I suppose I am.”

“Why?”

“Because I found something to believe in.”

“The Gentlemen?”

“No. Luca’s kindness, of course, but also your passion. That fire in your eyes will bring the world to its knees one day. I just hope I get to stand beside you when that happens.”

“Don’t put your hope in me. I’m not who you think I am,” Aster whispers, voice breaking. How could she, a girl with no powers, bring the world to its knees?

“That’s alright. You don’t have to be who I think you are. I’ll still be on your side.”

“Then you are a fool,” Aster spits, heaving her backpack over her shoulder before throwing open the metal door. For a second Oscar’s wounded face is reflected in the polished steel, but she quickly throws the door closed behind her and stalks into the night, not trusting herself to look back in case her step wavers.

Aster wakes up to the sound of a motorcycle roaring by. Inching backwards she curses at her own stupidity. She is still exposed to the street. If the bike was going just a little slower the Enforcer would have seen her. Has she learned nothing from Luca’s abduction? Myriad would stop at nothing to stay on top, even if it meant taking citizens who had done nothing wrong to serve his whims.

Aster pulls herself further into the doorway, groaning softly as she eases herself up from the cracked concrete. She sits in silence for what feels like an eternity, listening intently to the eerie silence of Frey. When she is certain the bike is gone she stands, making her way deeper into the heart of the city.

She doesn’t know where she’s going. Hell, she doesn’t even know where she is. It’s easy to get lost in this labyrinth of concrete. Frey was a thriving city at one point, though that was far before Aster’s time. Now it is just a carcass… a memory of what once was.

The crumbling skyscrapers around Aster were left vacant when Myriad seized power. Those who used to occupy these buildings rushed to escape, trying to bring their families to a territory outside Myriad’s reign. Most were killed for their efforts.

That was before Myriad used his powers to build the barricade. Hundreds of feet tall, made of a dark metal too slick to climb. It appeared one night, built from Myriad’s bare hands.

Aster wonders, not for the first time, why Myriad could wield every power without any weaknesses. How could someone so cruel be blessed with such strength?

Those who tried to climb the wall were slain by Enforcement. Projections of their mutilated faces were cast upon billboards throughout the city, a constant reminder of the price to be paid for defiance.

As Aster rounds a corner something plummets from above. She throws herself to the side, fearing drone surveillance, but instead a metal panel strikes the ground by her feet. Gingerly she stands, flipping the thin piece of aluminum over with a hesitant foot. Tarnished words glint in the morning sunlight.

Maple St.

Aster chuckles to herself and carefully prods her forearm where it had struck the ground. Nothing was broken, but she would have a nasty rugburn tomorrow.

She is surprised to see the street sign. Myriad had torn down almost every sign in the city, particularly those with names on them, lest they suggest someone else was in power before he took the throne.

Though she supposes it doesn’t matter much, the street name surprises Aster. According to old maps of the city Maple street was miles away from Gentlemen headquarters. Had she really walked so far last night?

She feels a faint drumming at her side and looks down, watching her hand tremble furiously. Fear. The shaking had gotten better after her father’s death. She had almost forgotten what it felt like but here, alone on the streets, she is more scared than she has been in a long time.

Aster curses under her breath. Luca has been gone for less than a day, and already she is letting her emotions get the best of her.

Suddenly, she feels eyes on the back of her head. She pivots, raising her pistol, and swears she sees something duck around the corner behind her. A moment later a rat scuttles out from the fading brickwork, dashing across the street in a panicked frenzy.

Aster lets out the breath she has been holding, easing her fingers away from the pistol at her side. No wonder she had lost the title. Here she is, flinching at the sound of rats. She turns away, fingers tightening to fists at her side.

Picking through the ruins of the city Aster scans the alleyways for one without broken glass, hand tap-tap-tapping all the while. She stumbles into one, heart in her throat, and sets her backpack aside, the need to move pulsing at the back of her mind.

With a practiced breath she drops to the floor, trying to loose herself in the familiar motions of exertion. Somewhere between her 10th set of pushups she becomes dimly aware that her hands have stopped shaking, and breathes a sigh of relief.

Luca always gives her a hard time about her way of coping, but he never seems to understand how training seems to be the only way to quiet her frantic mind. Aster pauses, a wave of grief crashing over her at the thought of Luca’s name.

She takes a sharp breath. It doesn’t make sense to keep referring to him in the present tense. Anyone taken to The Keep was as good as dead.

Sucking air between her clenched teeth Aster begins to train with a new vigor, desperate to feel numb. At least you can’t cry when you’re numb.

Hook-uppercut-kick. She repeats the motions until she cannot think of anything but the burning anger in the pit of her stomach. Partially at Fallon, for stealing her title, but more so at Myriad, for condemning her to this life. Aster is relieved. Anger is an easy emotion. One she can use. Nothing like the debilitating guilt and fear lurking at the corners of her vision.

Slinging her bag over a shoulder she returns to the street. She must find someplace more permanent to sleep. Camping in old doorways would only lead to discovery by the Enforcers.

As she walks a small voice screams from the back of her mind. How long can this possibly last? What are you doing? She had seen what living on the streets had done to Oscar. Was she really going to subject herself to the same fate? Squeezing her eyes closed she tries to force the voice away, but it drones on.

Aster is so distracted that she doesn’t hear the footsteps until two blocks later, when the telltale crunch of broken glass sounds from behind her. Ice floods her veins but she continues walking, using all of her willpower to keep from turning back. She begins to whistle carelessly, moving her hand inch by precious inch towards the gun stuffed in her pocket. After far too long her fingers find the handle and fold around the cold metal as if it is a lifeline.

In a fluid motion she casts her backpack to the side, flicks the safety off of the gun, and pivots towards the street behind her.

It is empty.

She crouches, glancing at the way early afternoon shadows fall across the building.

There. A vaguely human form lay among them.

Aster grins, grim satisfaction filling her at the thought of catching a Spector. The power enabled people to change their cells to let light pass through their bodies, rendering them practically invisible. However, Spectors still cast shadows.

Expertly Aster follows the shadow, walking forwards until the barrel of her pistol connects with warm skin. A quiet gasp sounds from her stalker. They turn to scramble away, but trip on a discarded piece of concrete behind them, becoming visible as they hit the ground and begin sobbing.

Aster turns to run, fleeing the Spector before it can regain its bearings and disappear from sight, but the tears make her pause.

Slowly she looks over her shoulder, watching in confusion at the very pink dress splayed across the sidewalk behind her. As she picks her way over to it the Spector whimpers, rolling over to expose the face of a little girl scarcely older than eight.

“Charlie?” Aster mumbles, kneeling at the girl’s side. Charlie wraps her arms around herself, nervously glancing at the gun still clutched in Aster’s hand. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you were following me, sweetheart,” Aster murmurs, slowly putting her gun on the ground and kicking it away.

At this the little girl sticks her nose in the air.

“I’m not a ‘sweetheart’. I’m a warrior princess,” she sobs, scowling at Aster before bending to examine a rip in her dress.

“Charlie, are you alright?” Aster helps the girl to her feet, examining the girl’s knees where she had fallen. She had a small scratch on her left shin, but it was nothing serious. Aster breathes a sigh of relief. Charlie glances at the scratch.

“Do ya think it will scar?”

“No. You’ll be fine.” The little girl looks thoroughly disappointed.

“Aw man. I was hoping for battle scars,” she pouts. Aster smiles to herself. Charlie was only eight, but would fight Myriad himself if given the chance. Reckless. The polar opposite of her brother. Aster feels a fresh stab of grief at the thought of Luca, but pushes it aside.

“Charlie, why were you following me?”

“I want to help!”

“What?”

“I want to help you find my brother!” Realization sparks on Charlie’s face. “Wait. You are going to find Luca, right?” In that moment Charlie’s voice seems incredibly fragile, as if she is moments away from breaking down. Then she takes a deep breath and her spitfire personality returns, as if nothing had happened.

Aster knew the feeling well. Taking the smaller girl’s hand she leads her into an alley, away from the roads and Enforcement patrols.

Myriad would love to get ahold of Charlie. An eight year old who had already snapped was incredibly rare. Luca said Charlie had never told anyone what made her snap, but rumor has it her mother was a bit too comfortable with knives before she was arrested by Enforcement.

Aster suddenly feels a surge of protectiveness for the little girl. Speaking softly, she crouches until she can meet Charlie’s eyes.

“I’m not going to find Luca, Charlie. Myriad took him to the keep.”

“I know… I just thought… when you left… “ Charlie stutters, blinking furiously as tears well in her eyes.

“Nobody who goes into The Keep comes out, Charlie. Nobody,” Aster whispers. With a quiet sob Charlie collapses against Aster’s chest, shoulders shaking violently. Aster wraps her arms around the little girl, feeling helpless as her own tears make their way to rest among the shattered glass lining the alley. They stay that way for a while, two little girls cast aside by the world’s uncaring hand.

Aster doesn’t know how much time has passed, but when she looks up it is almost dark. Anxiously she takes Charlie’s hand, towing her towards the mouth of the alley. After dark the Enforcers begin to patrol the streets far more religiously.

“We have to get you back to Fallon, Charlie. It’s not safe out here,” Aster whispers, taking the girl’s hand. The last thing she wants to do is return to Fallon, but Charlie leaves her no choice. Besides, it was Aster’s carelessness that resulted in Charlie being here in the first place. She hadn’t heard the girl following her last night when she fled The Gentlemen. It seems like the streets are getting darker by the second.

Aster breaks into a jog, but Charlie cannot begin to keep up. She lets out a soft whimper in the darkness, and they are forced to walk.

After what seems like an eternity they pass the billboard marking the edge of Gentlemen territory. Aster lets out a sigh of relief. Enforcement doesn’t patrol this closely to The Gentlemen unless they are dropping off a Discipline Order. Exhausted, Charlie sags against Aster’s side.

Aster crouches to pick up the little girl when headlights hit the wall inches above her head.

The familiar whirr of an electric motorbike fills the alley as an Enforcer races through. His eyes are focused on the road ahead, though, so it is clear he is not looking for them. Aster shakes her head. How could another Discipline Order be delivered so soon?

The mechanical whirring fades… but then gets louder. On instinct Aster flattens herself to the ground, meeting Charlie’s fearful eyes in the darkness. Aster presses a firm finger to her lips.

Another bike screams by.

Then another.

Aster soon loses track of the vehicles that have passed. The city is screaming with their motors now. The inhuman noise seems to shake the very ground beneath her. She is filled with a sense of dread

Then, the noise stops

And the burning begins.

Aster smells the flames before she can hear them. The odor of gasoline makes her eyes water.

Before she can stop to think she sprints towards the smell, a primal fear pulsing at her core.

As she rounds the corner she hears the first scream.

Her world has gone up in flames.

Pillars of flame extend towards the sky, belching clouds of smoke that make the crumbling buildings seem like a mirage.

Sweat beads across Aster’s face as she reaches the center of the square. She is dimly aware of a deep scratch across her arm. She must have scraped it against the wall when she began sprinting, though how she got here seems to be a blur now.

Feeling impossibly small she turns, watching as greedy flames lick the sky. Time seems to slow. The bar and room atop it begin to tremble, sending the roof crashing down onto the lower floor, the entire structure buckles with the sudden weight and collapses, becoming little more than a pile of rubble in seconds.

Aster watches in mute horror as her childhood home disappears. The noise the crashing beams make must be deafening, but the sound seems muffled to Aster.

The falling beams send a spray of sparks across the square. Aster doesn’t flinch as they hit her. The fragments of burning debris begin to nibble away at her jacket in what seems like slow motion. Her eyes are still riveted on the collapsed building in front of her as she absently pats her clothing, brushing the glowing embers onto the ground.

A bolt from the bar’s metal roof rolls towards her feet, spinning on the pavement like a newly minted coin. Aster lets out a choked sob. She remembers the summer before The Baron was murdered… Was it really just last summer?

She had spent every night on that roof, crawling out of her bedroom window to join Luca and Oscar after dark. The trio would sit there in silence, allowing themselves to believe for a few tratarious moments that there was something out there for them. Something other than gang rivalries and abusive fathers. In those moments, the moments where the real world faded to the periphery, they let themselves dream. Little things… blasphemous, rebellious things.

Luca whispered one night that he wanted to adopt kids. Not to further a gang, as he and Aster had been raised, or to be cast aside as Oscar had been but to care for. To swing onto his shoulders when their legs got tired and rock to sleep at night. He whispered as he said it, as if he were admitting to a great sin. It was ironic, Aster supposed. Only among The Gentlemen would such a selfless dream be considered selfish.

Oscar wanted to open a clinic. To use his ability to heal those who couldn’t afford Myriad’s Healers. Oscar’s time on the streets had shown him too many dying people unable to afford help.

Oscar always whispered that it wasn’t right to put a price tag on someone’s life, but Myriad seemed to disagree. Myriad ‘employed’ most Healers. He had taken Oscar’s parents to serve him, forcing them to heal the wealthy. He would have taken Oscar too had the boy not been defective. Oscar could knit bone, muscle, and skin back together, but he was unable to mend nerve endings, so he could not take the pain away from such injuries. It was ironic that his weakness had saved him from Myriad, but sometimes life is odd like that.

Aster wishes she could have a dream like theirs. A sweet dream, one of gentle love. She stayed silent that night, as they shared their hopes. How could she explain that while they dreamt about caring for others at night she was awake, gun stances and combat tactics racing through her mind, only able to fall into a restless sleep when she could picture Myriad lying dead at her feet.

These thoughts scared her. She reminded herself of her father, quick to hate and slow to trust. She had sworn that she would never be like him, but when she closed her eyes she could only feel the warmth of a gun in her hand and smell the metallic wetness of blood across cobblestones. There was no ‘happily ever after’ in her fairy tale. If only she could share Oscar’s dream...

The thought of his name snaps Aster back to the present. “Oscar,” she bellows, sprinting towards the pillars of fire. She screams but the sound is lost to the cackling madness of the flames around her. Frantic, she paces the edge of the flames, stomach churning.

She stills for a moment, her eyes locking on a collapsed building across the square. When Luca had brought Oscar to The Gentlemen he let him stay in the attic of the armory. Now the armory was gone, a pile of ashes in its place. Did he… Aster cannot bear to finish the thought. She collapses to her knees, a strangled gasp escaping her throat. The gasp fades to a coughing fit as a gentle breeze blows smoke from the fire towards her. Her eyes blur as tears rush to them and…

There.

Out of the corner of her eye Aster sees something move. She is on her feet in a matter of seconds. It is painful to turn away from the flames, but she forces herself to follow the motion into an alley. She squints at the sudden darkness, her eyes aching as she turns a corner and cannot see the light of the fire any longer.

She stills, blinking as her eyes adjust. Pools of darkness become more solid and suddenly Aster can see people lying on the pavement, fearful eyes reflecting the distant starlight. She is relieved that so many of The Gentlemen have survived, but as she scans the faces a growing sense of dread builds in her stomach.

“Oscar?” She breathes, forcing the words out of her throat. Several people whimper, as if her words will bring Enforcement down upon them, but their faces fade to the background as she watches a familiar head of brown hair turn towards her. Relieved, she rushes towards Oscar.

He is stooped over a body, hands shaking. As Aster approaches she can smell the blood. She kneels by the injured man’s side and is reaching a tentative hand to comfort him when a familiar hooked nose glints in the dim light. She snatches her hand back to her side with a quiet gasp. Fallon lets out a rattling sigh as Oscar uses his abilities to mend a deep slash on his side.

Aster supposes she should be furious that her friend is using his abilities to heal her enemy, but for once the anger burning inside her is quiet. It is hard to feel anything but pity for this man. Oscar looks up with a start as he notices her for the first time.

“Aster. Oh, god, I’m so glad you’re alright.” Satisfied with healing Fallon’s injuries, he slowly stands, giving her a light hug before pulling away, turning to the next injured person.

“What happened?” Aster whispers.

“I’m sorry… I can’t right now,” Oscar pleads. “Too many people are hurt.”

“Of course. They need you,” Aster mutters numbly, watching as Oscar walks away. She turns to a group of women curled at her feet for answers, but they shy away as she approaches, whimpering.

Resigned, Aster returns to Fallon’s crumpled form. Slowly she eases him back until he can rest against the alley wall. Though Oscar had stopped the bleeding, pain still glints in Fallon’s eyes. Oscar had always been ashamed that he could not heal nerve endings, but he was the only healer The Gentlemen have. Flaws or not he had saved lives tonight.

“What… what happened?” Aster attempts, stumbling over herself as she forces the words out. Fallon stiffens, as if noticing her for the first time.

“Why are you here?” He growls, moving a hand towards the gun at his side. Aster’s heart rises to her throat, palpitating as if it wants to break free of the ribs that cage it. Taking a deep breath she pushes the feeling aside.

“I came back because of Charlie.” Fallon’s fingers go limp, and the gun hits the alley floor with a gentle clatter.

“You found her? My Charlotte?” He whispers, his voice suddenly fragile. Fallon scans the alley behind Aster, looking for his daughter.

“I’m sorry,” Aster stutters.

Then, she freezes. What is she doing? Apologising to the man who was moments away from killing her yesterday…yesterday? Had that little time really passed?

Hesitantly, Aster continues. “This is all my fault. She thought I left because I was going to find Luca, and she followed me last night. I didn’t know she was there until this morning.”

Aster flinches, waiting for the inevitable reprimand. Instead, she is met with a whisper.

“Where is she now?”

“On the edge of Gentlemen Territory. I was bringing her to you, but I had her stay hidden when the Enforcers came.” Fallon lets out a muffled sob. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to leave her alone… I just thought…”

Fallon cuts Aster off, placing a hand on her knee. As she looks closer Aster realizes that a sad smile has replaced the typical snarl on his face.

“Thank you. Hiding her will save her life. At least one of The Gentlemen will make it out of here alive,” he chuckles, a hollow, desperate sound. Aster freezes.

“What?”

“For all the shit we gave you about destroying The Gentlemen, turns out you were the only thing keeping us from Myriad.” Fallon winces, shifting against the wall as he turns to face Aster. “You know Myriad. He picks off people when they are weak. When they are alone… when there’s nobody else to tell the story of their capture.” Aster nods, Luca’s face flashing through her mind. Fallon continues. “Turns out Myriad was only waiting to attack The Gentlemen until you left. Someone who’s immortal doesn’t exactly bode well for his whole ‘you can’t prove I’m corrupt if you’re dead’ policy.”

“But… you’re not dead. You got out,” Aster murmurs, relieved.

“No, we didn’t,” Fallon whispers, a tear running down his cheek.

“What are you talking about?”

“Myriad sent Tracker.” Fallon murmurs, defeated.

Aster freezes, suddenly going cold. Myriad has hundreds of healers at his disposal and even more Enforcers, but there is only one Tracker.

The man that killed her father.

Aster stills, looking at The Gentlemen clustered around her, at Oscar still valiantly trying to help the wounded. Useless. All of it.

For the first time she understands why The Gentlemen are not running. Tracker would find them, regardless of where they are. He is a Scanner, one of the people Myriad uses to defend The Keep.

Scanners could detect the signature each person’s powers give off, so nobody could get within a mile of The Keep without being spotted. Tracker, however, was far stronger than your average Scanner. He could track specific powers, allowing him to find anyone no matter where they were in the city.

He will lead a team of Enforcers to The Gentlemen and hunt down any who escape, until the faces of rebellion are little more than mutilated corpses left in the alley, a monument to Myriad’s power.

Already Aster can hear the Enforcer’s bikes firing in the distance. She knows they will be here in moments. Desperately, she turns towards Fallon.

“What do we do?”

“Not much we can do, darlin. Die with grace, I suppose.” With a gentle sigh he leans his head back against the brick behind him, closing his eyes.

The bikes are getting louder.

“We have to do something,” Aster screams, addressing The Gentlemen around her.

“And then what?”one jeers halfheartedly. “We run and Tracker finds us before the sun can rise. We fight and Enforcement kills us.” Aster looks at the sadness in these people’s eyes, the heart of a rebellion prepared to be snuffed out like a candle in the dark.

Aster feels a familiar anger rising in her gut. How dare they sit here and let her father’s work go to waste? How dare they betray Luca’s memory… how dare Myriad cripple them like this?

She embraces the anger. It is easier to think without useless emotions getting in the way.

Then, something clicks. She strides over to Oscar, grim determination written across her lips. Firmly, she presses her pistol into his hand. He looks up at her in shock, turning away from a bleeding woman.

“Once you told me you would stand with me when the time came, no matter what.” She is surprised at how calmly the words come out, despite the growing nausea in her stomach. Oscar nods, his eyes going wide. “That time is now.” Aster stands, walking towards the front of the alley. Her heart drops when Oscar does not follow. She feels tratarious tears rise in her eyes. Of course he will not follow. When had anyone followed her?

A moment passes.

Then, silently, Oscar appears beside her, thin fingers gripping the pistol by his side.

“I keep my promises,” Oscar murmurs. Aster turns towards him, grim determination in her eyes.

“And I keep mine. I will protect these people.”

Aster strides to the front of the alley and turns to The Gentlemen crouching in the darkness. Nobody looks up. She clears her throat but they continue to look at the pavement, some rocking back and forth as they whimper. With a sigh Aster begins talking, a harsh whisper penetrating the suffocating silence.

“What have we become?” Several heads pivot towards her, fingers pressed to pale lips in the darkness, a desperate plea for her to remain silent. Aster shakes her head. For too long she has been silent. Now she must speak.

“You’re not in charge anymore, little girl,” one of the men spits.

“I know. That’s why I am not standing here trying to lead you.”

“But-”

“Listen,” Aster snaps. The sound of bikes is closer than ever now. They only have minutes before Tracker finds them, and this realization seems to dawn quickly on those around Aster. For the first time the men are silent, a primal fear in their eyes. “As long as Tracker lives we will be hunted. Myriad is not one to give up easily.”

“We will not fight with you,” one of the men growls.

“I know. But if you value your lives, you will follow my orders.” Someone spits at Aster’s feet, letting out a snarl. She continues, unfazed. “Myriad is threatened by me. That’s why he didn’t attack sooner. I am a bigger threat than you, so Tracker will follow me when I confront him. Oscar will kill him. And you? You will run. As far away as you can.”

Eyes peer back at Aster from the darkness, but nobody speaks. The bikes are louder than ever, and Aster can swear she hears a gunshot in the distance. “Please… run,” Aster whispers, her voice finally breaking. She turns towards the street before anyone can respond. There is no time to persuade these people, she can only trust they will listen.

She is dimly aware of Oscar running beside her.

“Y’know, when I said I would stand beside you I didn’t really mean I was willing to put my life on the line.” He chuckles, trying to play the statement off as a joke.

“You aren’t going to die,” Aster pants, slowing to a walk as she turns towards him. “There is one bullet in that gun. Look for Tracker, pull the trigger, and run. It will give you enough time to get back to The Gentlemen as they run away.”

“But… what if I miss?”

“It doesn’t matter. They’ll know you’re there if you get more than one shot off, and then you would be dead for certain.”

“What about you?” Oscar asks, his voice brimming with concern.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m immortal, remember?” Aster gives him a weak smile. The words sound false, even to her own ears, but they seem to satisfy Oscar. “Besides,” she adds, “if you were to die, Luca would kill me.”

“Wait…” Oscar starts, but Aster cuts him off.

“Look at that building. Go up the fire escape on this side and cross the roof. I’ll lure Tracker down the street on the other side, and you’ll take your shot,” Aster murmurs.

“Alright… but about Luca.” Oscar stumbles, turning towards Aster in the darkness.

“Don’t worry about it. We only have three minutes to get in position.”

“But…”

“Go,” Aster hisses, shoving Oscar into the street. Seconds later she is sprinting, legs screaming as they carry her around the street corner… and directly in front of the largest group of Enforcers she has ever seen.

There were easily fifteen bikes, each topped with an Enforcer. Though Aster is still a half-block away from them she could hear the air crackle as they removed rubber gloves, bikes screaming to a halt as she stepped in front of them.

Several bikes inched forwards, seeming to contemplate how stupid someone would have to be to step between an Enforcer and Myriad’s bidding. Aster tucks her shaking hands into her pockets, and takes a hesitant step forwards. One of the Electrics raises a sleek gun, pointing it at Aster’s chest.

The sound of the safety turning off seems deafening to Aster.

“You have three seconds to exit the road.” The Enforcer’s voice is vaguely feminine, but her helmet distorts the noise, making it sharper. Dangerous.

Aster hisses, pushing the fear away. She focuses on the anger in her stomach, using it to contort her face into a mask of rage.

“You have no idea who I am, do you?” Aster snarls, stalking towards the Enforcers. Out of the corner of her eye she is aware of Oscar darting across the rooftop, and feels a spark of fear in her chest. If so much as one Enforcer were to glance up this hopeless charade would be over.

“Oh, you poor, precious, things,” Aster grins, trying desperately to keep their attention. The Enforcers are seething now, and if she squints she can see white arcs of electricity dancing between their fingertips. She forces herself to continue. “My name is Ace… but you can call me The Baron.” Aster watches the enforcers hesitate, still fingers resting on the triggers of their guns.

She feels a moment of relief, but as she scans the Enforcers she realizes Tracker is not among them. Her grin softens, deepening to a scowl as currents of fear race down her spine.

“We know who you are, girl,” a familiar drawl sounds from behind the group. Suddenly, Tracker shoves his way between the Enforcers.

Aster snarls, a feral, vicious noise, though internally she lets out a sigh of relief. She hasn’t been this close to Tracker since he rammed a blade through her father’s neck. The man lets out a low laugh, stepping away from the Enforcers.

“My sources told me you were no longer The Baron. Why do you still claim the title?”

“Perhaps your sources were wrong.”

Aster risks a look back at Oscar. He is crouched at the edge of a rooftop, but a streetlight stands between him and a clean shot at Tracker. Aster needs the man to move closer.

“Hmm. It is unlike my sources to be unreliable… but perhaps I’m getting ahead of myself. I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. You know, Myriad could use someone like you around,” Tracker murmurs. He shifts on his feet, but does not move forwards. Aster closes her eyes for a moment, knowing all too well what she must do. Tracker is a cruel man, but he is cunning as well. He wouldn’t come any closer unless she gives him a reason to do so.

“Sir, are you fond of gambling?” Aster’s voice is calm, betraying nothing.

“Not at all.”

“Well, then. Perhaps you are more drawn to chess.” The man is silent for a moment, looking at her with an odd intensity.

“Quit this empty banter,” he growls, bringing his fingers to rest nervously atop the gun at his side. Aster grins. The man was not as thick-skinned as he appears.

“Pathetic. We both know my ability makes bullets mere inconveniences.” She pauses for a moment, taking a threatening step towards the man. “My ability is flawless. I have reason to believe, however, that your miserable excuse for a power is flawed.” Tracker cackles at this, forcing a grin, but before he can suppress it Aster watches a hint of fear glint in his eyes.

“Silly girl. There is a reason Myriad keeps me on hand.”

“Oh, but of course. It would be terribly inconvenient for your handler if his precious dog were to be… flawed.” This hits a nerve.

Tracker takes a menacing step forwards. Aster holds her breath, but the man thinks better of it and steps backwards to the Enforcers around him before Oscar can get a shot off. Aster curses under her breath. She had hoped things would not go this far, but she is left with no choice. “I propose a test.”

“I have nothing to prove.”

“Alright, then. Using your ability tell me which side of the street I walk to.” Tracker frowns, regarding Aster with suspicion. She meets his gaze with a cool smile. The Enforcers shift nervously behind Tracker, whispering as they glance at him.

“So be it,” he snaps. The Enforcers move forwards, surrounding Tracker in a practiced motion. Aster bites the inside of her cheek. She had been counting on Tracker staying away from the Enforcers, but she supposed she should have seen this coming. Tracker could only sense the powers of others with his eyes closed, and was not about to leave himself exposed.

“Are you ready?”

“Of course,” Tracker replies. Quietly Aster crosses to the right side of the street, directly under Oscar. She gives a nod to the Enforcement agents, and one of them taps Tracker on the shoulder. She watches as he turns around, eyes closed. There is a calm smile on his face… until there isn’t. Seconds later his eyes fly open. He looks at Aster, then closes them again, only to open them a moment later.

“What have you done,” he screams, stepping forwards. “Why can’t I sense you?”

“I have done nothing. It seems that you’re just… damaged goods.” It hurts Aster to say the words, but she forces them out. She, of all people, knew what it was to be damaged.

She finds it ironic that she had turned the same words her father had spit when she developed no ability against one of the most powerful people in Frey. Tracker is seething from across the street, but stays still. Aster hasn’t done enough. Slowly she turns away from him, spitting a single word. “Weak.”

Tracker’s face contorts in a mask of rage and he sprints towards Aster. One of the Enforcers attempts to hold him back but he shoves them aside. Aster watches as the distance between them shrinks. Twenty feet. Ten. Five…

“Now,” Aster screams, and a single shot echoes through the air.

As Tracker reaches her a spray of red erupts from his back. He collapses, convulsing for a moment before going still. Aster lets out the breath she has been holding. No amount of healing could bring back the dead.

For a moment the world seems to go still. She looks up, meeting the eyes of the Enforcers as they look at her in horror. One glances towards the rooftop as an empty gun falls to the ground, but Oscar is long gone. Aster sighs in relief. It’s better this way. He won’t have to watch her die.

The moment passes as quickly as it came. The Enforcers swing onto their bikes and suddenly fifteen motors are screaming down the street towards Aster. She knows she stands no chance against them, but she turns and begins to sprint away, if only so The Gentlemen can say she died fighting.

This part of Frey is familiar to her. She slides around a corner, sprinting through the alley connecting two streets. One of the bikes flies into a wall. As she pivots around an abandoned car, long since gutted for anything of value, two more bikes are forced to give up their pursuit.

For a fleeting moment Aster grins, thinking she may be able to overcome these bikes after all.

Then the first bullet is fired.

Aster lets out a gasp of pain as the metal kisses her back, leaving a deep gash where it grazed the skin. She throws herself to the ground as a spray of fire sounds overhead.

She rests her cheek against the cool concrete under her for a moment, but then forces herself to get up, to keep running, feeling eerily like a lab rat in a maze. She darts around a corner, sprints into an alley… and finds herself trapped. She screams, pounding at the brick wall sealing the opposite end furiously. A dead end.

She must have lost track of the streets when she fell. She had trapped herself. As five bikes scream into the alley Aster turns towards them, blinking tears from her eyes. She would not greet death sobbing.

The first bike reaches her. Its rider steps off and raises her gun. Her finger hovers over the trigger and…

FLASH

Aster hears a scream, and wonders if it is her own. A hand rests on her arm, and she smiles softly. Luca used to do that. Maybe she would get to see him again when she died.

Then, the hand tightens. Fingernails bite into her skin and someone begins to pull her across the pavement.

“Aster, we have to go. We don’t have much time.”

Her eyes fly open. Oscar is standing over her, pulling her from the ground. Drunkenly she stands, swaying as stars explode behind her eyelids.

The door of a shop backing to the alley is propped open behind Oscar. She follows as he pulls her through it, locking the rusting metal behind them. He sprints through the building, grabbing onto her sleeve as if afraid they will be separated.

He tows her onto the street, forcing her to run as they weave through the city. Aster hears the confused shouts of Enforcement behind her as they begin to stir.

“How…” she starts, frowning.

“Flash grenade. Before Enforcement burned headquarters I was asleep in the attic of the armory. I heard them coming and managed to grab a few things before getting out.”

“You should have left,” Aster grumbles pathetically.

Oscar whips her around yet another corner. She had grown up in the city, but with all these turns even she was lost.

“Where are we going?” Oscar does not respond. They run in silence for what feels like an eternity before Oscar suddenly stops in front of a decrepit storefront. The windows are covered with rotting boards, and as they approach he expertly leads her to one that is loose, swinging it aside so Aster can climb in.

As she passes him he lets out a muffled gasp, looking in horror at the gash across her back. Aster had almost forgotten about the cut as her adrenaline surged, but it begins to sting fiercely as Oscar watches rivulets of blood run down her back. She meets his eyes, but he remains silent.

They swing the board back into place behind them and sit in the darkness of the shop until their desperate gasps for air ease. Eventually Oscar stands, retrieving pillows for them from what seems to be a back room. He moves around the space with an odd familiarity, and Aster finds herself looking at him in confusion.

“When I was on the streets I used to spend the night here. Enforcement rarely sends patrols,” Oscar murmurs. He pulls a dim flashlight from his pack and places it on the floor, pointing to Aster’s back. Wordlessly Aster turns, exposing the gash. Oscar flinches, inspects the wound, and then places his hands atop it, all without saying a word. The silence grates against Aster. Finally, Oscar speaks.

“So I guess this means you’re not immortal.”

“I’m sorry,” Aster whispers, voice breaking.

“About what?”

“I lied to you… to everyone. Waltzing around like I was some goddamn savior when I was really just a scared little girl. I’m not immortal. Hell, I’m not even bulletproof. That’s the only reason Tracker couldn’t use his ability to find me. There’s nothing to find. I have no powers”

Oscar chuckles under his breath.

“You’re an idiot, you know.”

“... What?”

“Here you are, apologising for the very lies that saved my life. That saved the lives of The Gentlemen. You were ready to die for people who had cast you out.”

“And that makes me an idiot?”

“No. You are an idiot for lying to me. Facing fifteen Enforcers and Tracker by yourself, though? That makes you a hero.”

“I am no hero.”

“Not yet. But you could be,” Oscar whispers. The first rays of dawn slip through the boards covering the windows. Oscar’s eyes glint with possibilities. Dangerous possibilities.

It’s quiet. Too quiet.

Aster sits by a gap in the boards covering the window, watching the still street outside, silent save for the occasional sounds of the Enforcer’s bikes in the distance. Aster supposes it’s well after noon by the sun pounding down upon the asphalt, though she has just woken up.

Her legs ache from running and the cut on her back screams as if it is a fresh wound, though Oscar had healed it last night. She wishes that he could repair nerve endings, but at least there is no physical wound.

With a gentle groan Oscar sits up from behind her, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“Morning,” he mumbles. She nods, turning back towards the window. He stumbles to the back room of the abandoned shop and returns with two cans. He hands one to Aster, and while she has never been particularly fond of tuna she forces the foul mixture down. Food would be a lot harder to find now.

Oscar kneels by the window, picking at his own food.

“Do you think they made it out?” Aster whispers.

“What?”

“The Gentlemen. Do you think they even survived, or was everything we did last night for nothing?”

“Hey. Don’t think like that. I’m sure they’re fine. I know a few people in the area. We can ask around and see if anyone knows where they are.

“But what if…”

“Stop,” Oscar growls, suddenly angry. Aster flinches. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. It’s just… there’s no use dwelling on the ‘what if’s’ right now,” Oscar pleads. Aster nods, and turns back towards the window.

This silence should be a respite from the screams and deafening gunshots of the night before, but now it seems suffocating, pressing the air from the room.

“How did you find this place,” Aster attempts.

“A friend,” Oscar mumbles. He looks away, grief flashing in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Don’t worry about it, Ace. I suppose I’m not a very good conversation partner,” Oscar mumbles, giving a halfhearted chuckle. “Where does your nickname come from, anyway? Ace isn’t exactly short for Aster.” Aster smiles in relief, if only because talking gives her less time alone with her thoughts.

“Luca started calling me that and it kind of stuck.” She smiles sadly.

“Same here,” Oscar chuckles. “He started calling me Oz- not because it’s short for Oscar, but because it’s the abbreviation for ounces and I’m kinda… small.”

Aster laughs, covering her mouth with a hand to muffle the noise. She is surprised at how genuine the noise is- a part of her feels guilty for being able to laugh at a time like this, but the hint of normalcy comforts her.

Encouraged, Oscar continues. “Luca tried to convince me to call him ‘Gallons’, because he’s so tall but it didn’t really stick.” Aster rolls her eyes, grinning.

“Luca can kind of be a dumbass, sometimes,” she admits.

“He’s a sweet dumbass, though. What’s the story behind your nickname?”

Aster hesitates, staring at the floor.

“It’s alright if you don’t want to tell me,” Oscar mumbles, sounding a bit hurt.

“No, it’s not that. I just…” she trails off, taking a deep breath.

Oscar had saved her life last night, and yet she sat, too guarded to talk to him. Some people trusted easily, she had heard. For her trust was painful and forced… but necessary.

She begins again. “A few years ago Luca tried to set me up on this date and… erm… I may or may not have socked the guy in the gut when he tried to kiss me. Luca gave me shit for it for weeks.” Oscar chuckles, leaning against the wall. “I guess I should have realized I was Asexual earlier… Ace is just a nickname for Asexual.” Aster smiles. “Sorry to disappoint- I guess we can’t get married now,” she jokes, elbowing Oscar in the ribs.

He lets out an awkward chuckle, his cheeks turning a bright red. “That’s alright… I don’t really like girls anyway.” He stumbles to his feet anxiously. “Just kidding. I mean, I like…” he trails off, looking at Aster fearfully. He flinches as she stands to join him.

“Hey. I support you,” she reassures, pulling him into a tight hug. He tenses for a moment, but then relaxes in her arms.

“That’s how I know about this shop,” Oscar confesses, gesturing to the concrete walls around them. “Theo, my partner at the time, showed me. I lied before. It wasn’t living on the streets that almost killed me. It was living here alone after he died.

There was an old woman- she used to give all the kids scraps when we were little, even though she hardly had anything left for herself. Enforcers tried to take her to The Keep and Theo tried to stop them. They killed him there,” Oscar blurts, pointing to a barely visible alley at the end of the street. “Damn enforcers didn’t even leave the body. Rode off like nothing happened, his body bag slung over their shoulders like some kind of war trophy.” Oscar kneels, pressing his face between his knees. “That was three years ago. I barely made it through one year without him. Every day seemed a little harder.”

“Then Luca found you,” Aster murmurs, resting a hand on his back. Hesitantly she continues. “I’m lucky he did. I… I don’t know what I would have done without you last night.”

Oscar looks up numbly.

“But Enforcement got him- killed him- too. First my parents, then Theo, and now Luca. Whenever someone makes me happy they rip them away.”

“Stop.”

“I-”

“No. Right now we can only act. Thinking doesn’t get us anywhere. Pack up your things. there are too many memories here,” Aster urges. Oscar turns away with a nod.

The two teenagers step onto the street, unsure of where to go, knowing only that neither can bear this haven a moment longer. How many had Myriad killed while they slept in this forbidden sanctuary?

“I’m going to kill him, you know,” Aster snarls.

“Myriad?”

“Yeah.”

Oscar gives a halfhearted chuckle, ducking into a doorway alongside Aster as an Enforcer’s bike screams in the distance.

“You have no powers, no backup, and want to fight someone who has more abilities than we know. That’s why we call him Myriad, you know. They say he can control every ability,” Oscar insists.

Aster is silent, looking at the pavement ahead of her.

Oscar continues. “Please, Ace. You can’t keep throwing yourself into danger. One of these days you’ll get yourself killed. Give up on killing Myriad. That man has no weaknesses.”

Aster continues to stare at the pavement, eyes burning. She knows if she looks up at Oscar he will see the tratarious tears that threaten at the corners of her eyes.

Broken glass glints from the pavement, followed by a stubborn weed moments later. Aster finds it incredible that life still exists in a place like this, but she supposes The Gentlemen are also a testament to life against the odds. Or, at least, they would be if she knew for certain the Enforcer’s didn’t catch them last night. Aster forces the thought from her mind, looking back down to the blood passing under her feet.

She freezes.

Crimson droplets bead on the pavement like the gemstones Aster has only heard about in children’s stories. As Oscar continues to walk onwards, oblivious as to the ground, Aster’s heart skips a beat. Then she is sprinting to catch up with him, pulling her gun and shoving the wiry boy to the ground as she rounds the corner.

Her gun hits soft skin and the man crouching there lets out a grunt of surprise, the jagged scrap metal in his hands letting out a screech as it falls to the ground. Aster kicks the crude weapon away, pinning the man to the wall.

“I could kill you, you know,” she seethes, pressing her gun more firmly against his throat. “Why were you hunting us?”

The man lets out a bitter laugh, which quickly gives way to a coughing fit. He presses filthy fingers over his mouth and they come away covered with blood.

“I wasn’t hunting, pretty girl. I was hiding,” he spits, legs shaking as he leans against the wall behind him. “It doesn’t matter if you kill me. I’ll be dead in a few minutes anyway.” Oscar steps forwards.

“I can help you,” Oscar pleads, extending a tentative hand towards the man. The man slaps it away, eyes going feral as he begins to wrythe against Aster’s hand. She pins him to the ground, and is surprised at how brittle his bones feel under her body.

“Don’t let your healer touch me. Enforcers will be here soon enough. I intend to be dead before I have to look upon those wretched faces again.” The man’s body heaves as he coughs up more blood. He smiles in satisfaction as it dribbles across the pavement and begins to laugh. Madness glints in the whites of his eyes. “Bastards. Said I couldn’t get out. Said it was impossible. But I know the truth. I know.”

“Get out from where,” Aster ventures, looking towards the man.

“From The Keep… they used to keep me in the keep,” he sneers, and begins his laughter anew. Aster claps a hand over his mouth to cut off the noise. She presses her lips to his ear, whispering with a fierce intensity.

“How did you get out.”

“Out? Out? Nobody comes out of The Keep. Myriad says so,” he smiles.

“But you just said-”

The man begins humming loudly to himself, clamping his hands over his ears as he begins to violently rock side to side. Aster glares at him, turning towards Oscar.

“This is hopeless. He’s probably never been inside The Keep, let alone seen Luca,” Aster snaps. Oscar kneels by her side, putting his head between his knees. Hesitantly, she tries again.

“When you were in The Keep did you see an Enthopath. He’s a teenager, about six feet tall with blond hair,” she says slowly to the man, failing to hide the desperation in her tone. The man perks up at this, the madness in his eyes fading to the periphery for a moment.

“Lukey-boy. Myriad likes him, yes he does. Myriad doesn’t know Lukey-boy knows the secrets. Myriad doesn’t like it when you know the secrets.”

“What secrets?” Aster breathes.

In the distance she hears feet pounding against the concrete, an electric buzz filling the air as Enforcers ignite their abilities.

Aster gives a frustrated growl as the man turns to poke at the ground, ignoring her entirely. “This is hopeless, Oscar. Let’s get out of here.” She turns quickly and makes it to the mouth of the alley before she realizes her friend is not behind her. The static is louder now. Enforcers can’t be more than a block away. “Oscar. We have to leave,” she hisses.

“Go. I’m not leaving until he tells me where Luca is,” Oscar says, planting himself by the man’s side.

Aster tries to drag Oscar away, but he shoves her off. With a resigned sigh she joins him at the man’s side.

“Make this quick.”

He nods, and turns to the man.

“How did you get out of The Keep?”

“I’m not gonna tell,” the man sings. Stiffening, Oscar extends a hand towards him.

“Tell me or I’ll heal you.” This gets the man’s attention. He glares at Oscar and flinches when the scrawny boy extends his fingers a bit further.

“Fine. Myriad stole my t-t-telepathy. He doesn’t like it when you can see in other people’s heads. No, that makes you bad. Master doesn’t like it when you’re bad, he says…”

“What does that have to do with escaping?” Oscar asks, his voice a lethal calm. Aster can hear Enforcers around the corner and fights the urge to run.

“Myriad is a silly boy! He thought taking my powers would scare me. He couldn’t catch me, though. I am slippery, like an eel! You know what else is slippery?” As the man rambles a group of Enforcers round the corner, drawing pistols as they spot the man.

Barely two blocks separate them from the arcs of electricity lashing out from the Enforcer’s hands.

The man begins coughing harder as the Enforcers begin to run towards them, and Aster is able to pull Oscar away from his side at last. As they turn to retreat down the opposite side of the alley the man utters a few breathy words, sounding entirely too sane for a moment.

“The Scanners never saw me- I had no powers to see. Myriad doesn’t use cameras for security. Doesn’t want someone to hack them and figure out his weakness.”

“Myriad has no weakness,” Aster snaps, glancing over her shoulder at the man. His eyes lock on hers, trembling in their sockets.

“Myriad is not who you think he is… everyone has a weakness.” He convulses, a fountain of blood trickling down parted lips as he hits the alley floor. The Enforcers are almost upon them.

The man’s words echo in Aster’s mind but she forces herself to turn away, towing Oscar behind her by the corner of his sleeve. They sprint from the alley, emerging on a narrow side street. The Enforcers let them go as they are more concerned with the madman at their feet.

Aster and Oscar run for a few more blocks before collapsing against an aging brick wall by the edge of a courtyard. Panting, Oscar grins.

“Luca’s alive,” he smiles. Aster does not return his enthusiasm. Instead, her mouth is set in a line of grim determination.

“I’m going to bring him back.”

“What?”

“Tonight.”

“What are you talking about?” Oscar whispers reproachfully. “Nobody breaks into The Keep. I want Luca back as badly as you do, but it’s not worth it if you get yourself killed. Come on, let’s find The Gentlemen. If that man was telling the truth they might help us get Luca back.” Aster knows his point makes sense, but she pushes it aside.

“The Gentlemen are scared, Oscar. We are going to need more than the ravings of a madman to kindle a revolution against Myriad.” Oscar shakes his head, but Aster has already made up her mind. “If I can just prove it’s possible to get out of The Keep alive we may actually stand a chance… and maybe, if I’m lucky, Luca will know Myriad’s weakness.”

“There are too many variables in your plan. Even if Myriad’s Scanners don’t see you because you have no power all it takes is one nosy servant and you’re dead,” Oscar growls, a fierce protectiveness creeping into his voice.

“But if this works I’ll be a hero,” Aster urges.

“Is that all this is to you? A chance to play hero?”

Aster is silent for a moment before she continues.

“No. This is a chance to stop living in the shadows. To start a revolution.”

“A one-person revolution?” Oscar raises an eyebrow.

“But of course. Isn’t that how all revolutions begin?”

“Fine. It’s getting late- we should get to The Keep before Enforcers begin their night patrols,” Oscar mutters, walking away briskly. Aster breaks into a jog to keep up with him, relieved that he is going along with her plan, though it may seem hopeless. She is desperate to do more than wonder what had become of Luca. Now was the time to act. “We have to be smart about this,” Oscar growls.”

“We?” Aster says, confused. “There is no ‘we’ in this. If you tried to get into The Keep the Scanners would sense your powers immediately.”

“But-”

“Just hide outside of The Keep, alright? I’ll get Luca, and when we come out you can use the flash grenades you have left to cover us when the Scanners sense his power.” Oscar does not reply, but he knows Aster is right. As they push their way into the heart of Frey an overwhelming sense of dread falls over the streets. They draw to a stop outside of the fence surrounding The Keep, glancing at the warehouse beyond.

The last time Aster had been this close to the building she was eight. She had tried to run away from home when her father turned his belt against her. He had brought her to the fence, extending a single finger towards the complex on the other side.

“Try that again and you’ll end up there,” he snarled. Aster still remembers his grating whisper in her ear. Now, as she looks beyond the fence towards the warehouse beyond, it’s as if she’s eight again, fear pulsing through her veins.

The Keep is an ominous thing, black metal sticking out haphazardly from odd angles. Construction on the warehouse never seemed to stop. As Myriad captured more citizens of Frey he put them to work expanding his empire, working them until they were just another set of bones crushed beneath his heel.

Aster could barely see the Scanners, posted like sentries along the roof of The Keep, though they are unaware of Oscar and her. The Scanners wear blindfolds across their eyes and mufflers over their ears to increase their ability to detect the powers of any who attempt to enter The Keep. They were not nearly as powerful as Tracker, though, and could not sense anything beyond the fence surrounding The Keep. For all they knew Aster and Oscar were nowhere near Myriad’s empire.

Aster stalks around the fence, looking desperately for a place to enter. It is impossible to scale this monstrosity. It is twenty feet tall, topped with coils of razor wire powered by electricity from Enforcers who hadn’t pleased Myriad. He chained them to the system powering the coils until they seized from exposure their own electricity. The dictator had an odd sense of humor.

Try as she might, Aster could muster no sympathy for the Enforcers. Weak willed beasts. They had taken too many helpless citizens from the streets, and she could never forgive them for that. For now, though, she could only focus upon saving one of the many they had taken.

“How do we get in?” Oscar whimpers, eying the wall stretching far above their heads. Aster keeps her eyes towards the ground, grinning in satisfaction as she spots an aging dumpster pressed against the barrier.

“Here. Nobody with powers makes it to the wall alive- it’s more of a testament to Myriad’s ego than a functional barricade. They don’t even bother with repairs anymore,” Aster says, slipping behind the dumpster.

There is a gaping hole in the chain link behind the dumpster, and Aster easily pushes the debris surrounding it aside. A wide field strewn with rubble separates them from The Keep.

Oscar glances up, and sees an unfamiliar worker look away from his task in the field. They make eye contact for a moment, and the man imperceptibly shakes his head. A warning to stay far away. Then, the collar across his neck pulses as an Enforcer approaches the man, and he falls to the ground writhing. The Enforcer kicks him in the side and pulls him to his feet. The man continues working, as if nothing had happened. He does not look up again. Oscar feels a stab of pain in his chest, imagining Luca standing in this man’s place. He bends to follow Aster as she pulls herself through the hole in the fence by her stomach.

“What are you doing?” she growls, pushing him back. “The Scanners will sense you if you get any closer.”

“Aster, what if you get caught?”

“I won’t.”

“I can’t let you do this.”

“Everything will be fine,” she whispers, though her words sound hollow. It is dusk now, and Enforcers begin to call the workers back from the field. Oscar hears one of the Enforcer’s bikes scream by behind him, and is thankful for the dumpster separating the two of them from the street. Soon it is dark. The moon’s fragile light barely illuminates the rubble below. Aster braces herself against the fence, ready to sprint across the field. The Scanners couldn’t detect her, but if any Enforcers spotted her she would be dead meat. It was crucial that she crossed quickly.

“How will you find Luca?” Oscar stutters, looking towards the enormous complex. Aster is silent. She knows how hopeless their situation is. Finding Luca would be like finding a needle in a haystack. A very big, very deadly, haystack.

Without saying a word Aster begins edging away from the fence. She braces herself to sprint, leans forwards, and…

Floodlights illuminate the field. She races back to the shadow of the fence, eyes going wide. She moves to escape through the gap in the fence, but stills. There are no shouts behind her. No bullets screaming through the air.

It dawns on her that she has not been spotted. She turns towards the lights, watching as two Enforcers march an unfamiliar figure towards a metal pole on the outside of the compound. They tie the man’s hands above his head and take a step back. The whip moves so quickly that Aster doesn’t see it until it slices through the man’s shirt, cutting deeply into the skin below. He screams.

The scream is muffled from across the field, but is still unmistakable. Aster claps a hand over her mouth, letting out a choked sob. How many times had she heard that scream growing up, echoing from Luca’s house when Fallon raised a belt against him?

She starts towards Luca, but Oscar hisses loudly. She ignores him, but he hisses louder, and she is forced to turn back.

“What are you doing,” she snaps. “The Enforcers will hear you if you keep making that noise.”

“And the Enforcers will kill you if you charge after Luca. Think, Ace,” Oscar whispers.

“You can’t take on two Enforcers and who knows how many Scanners by yourself.

Luca lets out another scream, and Oscar flinches.

“We have to get him out of here,” Aster insists.

“I know, Ace, but he’s not going anywhere tonight. Look at him.” The Enforcers untie Luca’s hands and he crumples to the ground.

His blood is visible from across the field, and when the Enforcers pull him to his feet he only falls again. Eventually, they are forced to carry him inside.

“Once we get him out we’ll have every Enforcer in Frey looking for us, and he can’t even stand, let alone run,” Oscar insists.

“We’ll carry him, then.”

“Aster. That’s impossible and you know it.”

“But it will be weeks before he heals,” Aster pleads. “In that time they’ll just whip him again… or worse.”

“I know. That’s why I have to get close enough to heal him.”

“What?”

“We don’t have much time, Aster. I need to see where they take him or we may never see him again.”

Oscar eases his way under the fence as Aster’s eyes go wide. “Come back tomorrow night. We will be ready for you,” Oscar pleads. He starts walking towards The Keep, flinching as Aster grabs his wrist. “Please don’t make me stay. I can’t watch him die. Not like this,” he chokes, voice trembling.

“I know. I’ll be here tomorrow. Just… don’t get yourself killed, alright?” Aster whispers. Oscar nods, and begins to walk forwards.

* * *

Oscar is dimly aware of Aster slipping out through the fence behind him, but doesn’t trust himself to look back. He gets about ten feet closer to The Keep before the Scanners spot him, and crosses another two feet before their rifles are trained on his skull. Their voices are calculated. Mechanical.

“Intruder located. West wall. State your business.” Kneeling, Oscar extends his hands over his head, pebbles biting into his knees as he kneels on the ground, admitting to surrender. He takes a shallow breath, forcing those despicable words he only utters in nightmares from his lungs.

“I have come to pledge my loyalty to Myriad. I am here to serve him.” The guards shift from foot to foot, seemingly confused. Eventually an Enforcer makes his way towards Oscar.

Stars dance across Oscar’s vision as he is thrown to the ground, but he does not raise a fist against the Enforcer. The Enforcer pats down Oscar’s clothing, tearing off his jacket and checking his empty pockets for weapons three times before the Enforcer is satisfied.

The man forces Oscar to his feet, pushing him towards The Keep, and seems surprised when Oscar goes without a fight.

“You’ve just made the biggest mistake of your life, kid,” the guard whispers before they enter the building. Oscar can’t help but feel like the man is right.

The interior of The Keep is a labyrinth. Narrow corridors paneled with scrap metal and rusting nails make up musty corridors. There are rumors that Myriad’s palace is hidden at the center of this fortress, but Oscar has a hard time believing that anything could be hidden behind these walls aside from corpses and corruption. As they round a corner a sickening odor hits Oscar, and he gags. The guard chuckles.

“Welcome to your new home, kid. As soon as you prove to Myriad that you’re loyal you get out of here and sent to service. Enjoy prison the best you can. It only gets harder from here.”

Narrow cells line the walls, and terrified faces shrink away from the Enforcer as he leads Oscar to a cage in the back corner. Oscar scans the faces of those around him, and a bolt of fear courses through his spine when he does not see Luca. Anxious he turns to look towards the cells they have already passed but the Enforcer growls and all but throws him into the cell. His head comes down upon the concrete below hard, and he sees stars for a moment before everything goes black.

Thirty minutes pass before Oscar stirs. Aster brought him to the gate at dusk, but now it must be midnight. He pulls himself to a seated position, letting out a soft groan as his fingers trace the bump on the back of his head. He rests his finger upon the swelling, and it goes down instantly.

Oscar isn’t quite sure how to explain his ability. It is as if he is tugging the skin back to where it should be from invisible tendrils that extend from his fingertips. He can’t bring the nerve endings back to their original positions, though, and huffs in frustration when his head continues to throb after the injury itself is gone.

His eyes grow accustomed to the darkness quickly, though he can only make out the outlines of the sleeping prisoners from where he sits. His heart pounds against his ribcage, seeking freedom, as a thousand what-if’s dance through his mind.

“Luca?” he whispers, his voice sounding fragile. Someone curses at him from across the room, but within moments all is silent. He whispers again, louder, but a rock is heaved towards the bars of his cage and narrowly misses his face.

Fighting back tears Oscar wraps his arms around his knees, rocking quietly. He wonders what he had been thinking, succumbing to Myriad on the off chance he would end up imprisoned with Luca. He had always chided Aster for being impulsive, but now he had all but put himself in prison. He was supposed to be the one who thought things through. Who made the smart choice. He was a fool.

With a breath Oscar pushes the thoughts from his mind. Exhaustion leaves little time for self-pity. Leaning back against the wall behind him he listens to those around him. He hears a child call out for her mother in her sleep, and the trembling breath of someone who is elderly. Someone is snoring a few cells away from him. He listens to the different rhythms, grief filling him. How could Myriad enslave so many? His eyes become heavy as the noises begin to lull him to sleep,

Then, they snap open.

There. The whimper is nearly inaudible, but as Oscar eases himself to the ground he can barely hear it. He lets out a choked sob as he claws his way across the cell, pressing himself to the bars separating them.

He knew that whimper all too well, from the nights Luca would find his way into the attic of the armory where Oscar was sleeping after dark, a thin blanket clutched between his hands, fleeing Fallon as the man cursed his son’s name from across the street. Luca never said a word to Oscar, but would curl up on the floor next to his bed and fall asleep within moments. He was always gone by the next morning, but Oscar knew the sound of Luca’s breath like he knew his own. Though he would never tell Luca, some nights that breathing was the only thing that kept him from going to dark places. The places of death he had spent too much of his life in.

Oscar reaches his arm through the bars, straining, but it falls short of Luca’s sleeping form. For a moment he considers letting the injured boy sleep, but he knows time is fleeting. He reaches again, suppressing a yelp of pain as the bars cut into his shoulder, and is finally able to brush the boy’s shoulder. Once. Twice… on the third brush Luca shoots up, terrified eyes glinting in the darkness. He grabs Oscar’s arm viciously, and makes as if to snap his wrist. Oscar squeaks in fear, ripping his arm away as he scuttles backwards into his cell.

“Oz?” Luca’s voice is hoarse, as if he has aged years in the two days since the Enforcers captured him. Cautiously Oscar moves towards the bars, letting a beam of moonlight from a gap in the roof strike his face. He hears a muffled sob as Luca draws himself towards the bars, breath hissing from between his teeth as he eases his injuries across the concrete. “I’m sorry, Oz. I didn’t know- I thought you were-” he stutters.

“Hey. It’s alright,” Oscar whispers, tenitavely reaching his hand through the bars again. Luca takes it, impossibly gently, and holds it to his chest.

“Why are you here,” Luca croaks. “Did they capture you, too?”

Oscar shakes his head. “I came here myself.”

“What?”

“For you.” Oscar blushes, and hopes the darkness is enough to hide his crimson cheeks.

“Er, well, I mean… Aster and I are going to get you out,” he stumbles.

“I know what you meant,” Luca whispers, smiling for a moment before flinching, raising a hand to a bruise across his face. His left eye is swollen shut and a deep cut mars his cheek

“Here. Let me,” Oscar whispers, his voice pained. Luca slides closer to the bars and Oscar rests a tentative hand across his cheek, pressing gently as the skin knits itself together. Oscar gazes at Luca, wondering how someone who has seen so much pain could still try to smile. Even now, behind bars, there is a spark of defiance in Luca’s eyes. A spark of hope that one day things will be different.

“Are.. are you done?” Luca whispers, glancing at Oscar’s hand that is still lying across his cheek. Snapped from his thoughts Oscar snatches it back hurriedly.

“Hey. It’s alright, there’s no need to be embarrassed.” Luca says.

“I’m not embarrassed,” Oscar mutters.

“I’m an Enthopahth, Oz. I’m pretty sure I know what embarrassment looks like.”

Oscar laughs awkwardly. “Turn around. I need to do your back.” In silence he heals the whip marks and bruises dotting Luca’s body. “How did you get so many?” He asks tenitavely.

“I tried to escape last night. And the night before,” Luca mutters. “And, um, this afternoon,” Luca adds hesitantly.

“How could you do that,” Oscar whispers, his voice brimming with concern.

“I wanted to see you again.” Luca pauses for a moment, and Oscar holds his breath.“ And Ace and Charlie, of course,” he continues.

“Of course,” Oscar replies, quietly. “No more failed escape attempts, alright? Tomorrow night we get out of here.” Luca nods, and eases himself to the floor.

Oscar looks towards the moon peeking through the crudely constructed roof, trying desperately to sleep, but lies awake. An hour passes and he wraps his arms around himself, mind darting to places of death and darkness. What if Luca didn’t make it out? What if they killed him, too?

Quietly, Luca’s hand reaches between the bars, finding Oscar’s in the darkness.

“It will be alright,” Luca whispers. And somehow, impossibly, Oscar finds himself believing those simple words as he finally drifts to sleep.

Luca blinks slowly as a blade of sunlight cuts across his cell, groaning as he stumbles to his feet. Immediately the panic sets in. There is a dull throbbing behind his eyes as he hears the moans and whimpers of those around him. Fear. Pain. Desperation. The emotions crash over him, magnified tenfold by his Enthalpy. He collapses onto his knees, stomach heaving as his vision blurs.

Enthopaths internalize the emotions of those around them if they are in close proximity for too long. The fifty people crammed into this wing of the prison had driven Luca to the edge. It was as if he was experiencing each person’s pain at the same time.

Easing back towards the wall behind him Luca puts his head between his knees, trying to block out the panic rising in his throat. It has been two days. Two days of these emotions clawing at his mind. He wonders, fleetingly, how much time he has left until their whimpers drive him mad.

He was able to block out a bit more of the noise today, though. Last night he had slept for the first time in the two days since he had arrived at the prison. Why…

“Good morning,” Oscar whispers, sparkling eyes pressed to the rusting chain link that separates their cells. His hair is sticking up at odd angles, and as he sits up it falls into his face. Luca softens. For an instant the sobbing and panic fade, and Luca can only see Oscar as he attempts to blow the hair from his eyes, only to grunt in frustration when it comes fluttering back down.

Luca attempts a gentle smile, but pain races through his body. He presses his hands over his ears more firmly, letting out a hissing breath as his body begins to shake violently.

“You… you shouldn’t be here,” he manages, between clenched teeth.

“Come here,” Oscar whispers, reaching his hand as far as he can through a hole in the bottom of the chain link. Luca manages to shake his head. “Here. Now.” Oscar isn’t nearly as gentle this time. His voice is a razor in the morning silence. Several people spit at him from other cells, but he doesn’t react.

Luca braces himself for a moment before turning to claw his way across the floor, moving inch by precious inch towards Oscar. Eventually his fingertips brush Oscar’s and the smaller boy drags him closer, straining to pull his weight across the floor.

Panting, Oscar releases Luca but hesitates a moment. Then, he pushes his hands back through the fence, gently taking Luca’s palm between them.

“Look at me,” Oscar insists. The words come out more forcefully than he had intended, and he curses internally as Luca flinches. He had never been particularly good at comforting people.

Luca had always been the one doing the comforting. To see his friend like this, reduced to a shadow of his former self, was almost too much to bear.

At Oscar’s darkest moment Luca had been there for him. Now is the time to return the favor. Hesitantly Oscar begins again. He pushes a hand through a higher hole in the chain link and cups Luca’s chin, tilting his face upwards until Luca reluctantly meets his eyes.

“Hey,” Oscar whispers.

“Hey,” Luca chokes out.

“Read my emotions.”

“But… but you said…”

“I know. Just do it.” Oscar’s voice wavers, but he is surprised to find that the fear he used to feel when thinking of Luca getting inside his head has faded. “I trust you, you know.”

Luca is silent, but he closes his eyes. Oscar feels a gentle pressure at his temples, and takes a quiet breath. He closes his eyes, and allows himself to remember things he has pressed to the corners of his mind for too long.

His mother, as she sat on the front step of a crumbling building, cradling him as a five year old on her lap. “Look. See that dandelion?” she whispers, voice melodic, as she points to a pale yellow flower easing its way from a crack in the sidewalk. “You’re like that dandelion, darling. As hard as this may be, you’ll always find a way to grow.” The memory is bittersweet, but Oscar doesn’t linger on it for long.

He’s older now, meeting Luca for the first time. He sprints across the street, intending to snatch the brown paper bag from Luca’s side, stomach aching with hunger. Luca grabs his arm firmly, holding him still as he tries to escape. “My lunch is all yours… if you sit with me,” Luca says with a grin. So Oscar does. That was the first of many lunches, lunches where Luca taught him to trust again.

Dimly Oscar is aware of Luca letting out a content sigh beside him, but he keeps his eyes closed.

Memories flit through his head easily now. Warm summer nights on Aster’s roof, laughing at Luca’s pathetic dad jokes. Walks with Luca in the early morning when neither of them could sleep. Luca’s smile in the summer sun. Luca. Always Luca.

He is snapped back to the present by Luca gently squeezing his hand. “What were you thinking about?” Luca murmurs with a lazy smile. His hands have stopped trembling, and his smile no longer seems forced, though he flinches as he shifts to lean against the cell wall.

Oscar feels a wave of guilt at the pain, wishing more than ever that he could heal nerve endings. Luca had suffered enough. It wasn’t fair that Oscar couldn’t ease his pain.

“Hm?” Oscar mumbles, blushing furiously.

“What made you so happy? I’m not a psychic, you know. I can just see emotions, not the thoughts that invoke them.”

“I know,” Oscar mumbles. “I was just thinking about someone who means a lot to me.”

“Oooooh, Oscar’s got a crush,” Luca taunts, making Oscar blush even more. “I know I’m hot stuff, but you should try to contain yourself,” he jokes, laughter glinting in his eyes.

Oscar looks away.

“Wait…” Luca stills, the laughter in his voice fading. Oscar cuts him off.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better, but we both know this is no time for jokes. Aster will be waiting for us tonight. We need to play our cards right to get out of here,” Oscar snaps. His voice is sharp. Clinical. Luca opens his mouth as if to say something, but thinks better of it. A suffocating silence falls over the cell.

. . .

Aster paces the streets a block away from The Keep, listening intently for the sounds of approaching Enforcers. There aren’t any. The morning silence should put her at ease, but instead it makes her restless. She goes through Oscar’s backpack for the tenth time.

Flash grenades? Yes.

Bandages? Yes.

Pistol?

Fear rips through her, but as she brings her hand to her side it rests on the familiar metal, and she breathes a sigh of relief. Everything is as it should be. In a few hours Luca and Oscar would join her outside of The Keep. Everything was going perfectly… so why did she feel like something was incredibly wrong?

…

Oscar watches as the sun sinks beyond the gap in the jail’s ceiling, hardly daring to breathe as a single star winks into life in the dusk beyond. A key rattles in the door beyond and like clockwork a burly guard rolls into the room, carelessly tossing packets of dried food into the cells.

Oscar grins in satisfaction. Everything was just as Luca had told him it would be. As the guard approaches Oscar’s cell he lunges at the chain link, chuckling madly as he throws himself at the metal. He screams slurs at the man, but the guard does not react. Oscar’s blood runs cold. What if this didn’t work? This man was the key to his escape. He didn’t expect the man to be so unresponsive. Determined, Oscar clenches his fists.

As the guard turns to leave he meets Oscar’s eyes for an instant. In that moment Oscar takes a deep breath and sends a ball of spit hurtling towards the guard.

Thwack.

The guard freezes. Saliva drips down his face, matting bushy eyebrows as he raises a shocked hand to his face. Calmly, he turns back towards Oscar.

“You must be new around here.” His voice grates against his throat like acid, and his eyes are twin daggers as they gaze at Oscar. Oscar meets them, forcing a crude sneer to his face as the man wipes spit away with a tattered sleeve.

The man’s body trembles and suddenly he is looming a foot over Oscar, the seams of his shirt straining against the muscles beneath. The grin falls from Oscar’s face. He hadn’t expected the guard to be a Builder. In silence, the man unlocks the cell door. As the metal screeches open Oscar forces himself to race out the opening. This man would be expecting him to make an escape attempt. He slows at the last second, just enough so the guard can wrap a bulging hand around his waist, throwing Oscar to the floor. “Dumb kid,” the man growls, removing a baton from his belt. Oscar screams as the metal rod falls across his shoulders, lunging towards the man before he is thrown to the ground again. As he falls, however, he manages to snag a finger in the guard’s pocket. The older man doesn’t notice as Oscar retrieves something from inside, curling his fingers around it as he falls back to the floor.

The man is furious. Oscar hears something in his shoulder snap as the man brings the baton down. He hears someone scream, and belatedly realizes that the sound is coming from his own throat. The pain strikes him a moment later, a white-hot bolt that makes his entire body seize. The baton comes down upon Oscar three more times. One to each leg. One to the spine. Oscar hears the bones snap, and is dimly aware of Luca screaming from the cell behind him. The sound makes a wave of guilt rise within Oscar. Once again he had let Luca down. Provoking the guard had been his idea. He had promised Luca he wouldn’t be hurt… but the Builder looming over him clearly has other plans.

The guard brings the baton down a final time, as if for good measure, and carelessly heaves Oscar into his cell before locking the door behind him, storming into the corridors beyond. Oscar forces himself to remain motionless, listening as the guards footsteps recede down the corridor beyond.

“Oz?” Luca’s voice is more fragile than Oscar has ever heard it, and the single syllable rings into silence as Oscar forces himself to listen to the guard’s receding footsteps. Satisfied at last Oscar eases himself up, snapping a dislocated shoulder back into place with a practiced hand. His body aches, but the feeling is not forgin to him. Beatings like this were common on the streets.

“Huh. Well he was a bit more aggressive than I anticipated,” Oscar grumbles, pulling his mangled leg back into place. Luca lets out a strangled sob, leaning heavily on the cell wall separating them.

Oscar looks up, and gasps in horror at Luca. Blood runs down the boys hands, nails torn to jagged stumps in places where he had tried to pry the lock off his cell. There are cuts along Luca’s arms from the chain link, and tears still glisten on cheeks.

“You- you’re alive?” Luca sobs, suddenly looking very small in his cell despite his height.

“Oh my god Luca. What did you do?” Oscar turns away from his legs, grabbing Luca’s hand fiercely. He closes his eyes for a moment, knitting the torn skin back together. When he opens his eyes Luca rips his hand away angrily, relief shifting to rage as he sizes Oscar up.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Luca growls, glaring at Oscar. “You could have died.”

“It’s fine. I’m a healer,” Oscar mumbles, watching as his bones slide back into place. He feels exhaustion from overusing his ability pound at the back of his head, but pushes the feeling away. Now was not the time for weakness.

“You’re an idiot, you know,” Luca seethes, watching Oscar. The smaller boy looks up, hurt. He wraps his arms around himself protectively.

“Sorry,” he whispers.

“You know I’m not mad at you, right?” Luca says more gently. “I just thought I was going to lose you. I… don’t know what I would do if you weren’t here. Besides, your little ‘publicity stunt’ wasn’t worth it.”

“Sure it was,” Oscar says with a sly smile.

“...what?”

“That damn Builder was in such a hurry to discipline me that he didn’t realize my antics weren’t about escaping at all. My escape attempt was just a distraction.” Oscar pulls a rusting ring of keys from his jacket pocket, glancing towards the crack in the ceiling. It was pitch black outside now. Aster would be expecting them.

Luca’s mouth hangs open as he watches the keys glint in the starlight.

Oscar catches his eye, and shoots him a small smile.

“I guess all that time on the streets taught you a thing or two, huh Oz?,” Luca whispers breathlessly. Oscar nods, silently unlocking his own cell. As he frees Luca he becomes dimly aware of eyes on his back.

Slowly Oscar turns towards the prisoners surrounding them, throat going dry as they press grimy faces against the rusting chain link.

“We could shout for the guards right now, you know,” a man hisses, sneering at the two boys.

“Take us with you,” a young woman pleads, holding her child tightly to her chest. Oscar freezes. One wrong move with these people and he and Luca would be as good as dead. Gently, Luca rests a hand on his shoulder, stepping towards those in the cells around them.

“I know how hard this is,” Luca whispers. “I would take these keys and free each one of you if it would save your lives. But we all know that Myriad would find you the moment you crawled from The Keep. I cannot offer you freedom- but I can offer you a promise. My escape today is part of something greater. There is change coming. Soon we will return for you.” Those assembled are silent. In the distance Luca hears the clattering of a guard’s boots. He suppresses the panic rising in his chest. The guards would change their shift in a few moments. They didn’t have long. “Please,” he whispers. “You must trust me.”

The prisoners look uneasily at one another, but remain silent. Suddenly, a fragile voice pipes up from the back corner.

“I’m tired of promises. Myriad promised he would make life better, and look where that got us. We don’t want your empty promises, boy.”

Luca walks towards the voice, kneeling until he can see a small woman crouched in the darkness of her cell. She continues. “Run. We will be silent, and pay for your transgressions when they anger Myriad. I want no promise from you- but if you see that wretched power thief in the corridors kill him without a thought. He is not worthy of life.” Luca nods towards her, and turns to leave, but something about the woman’s speech causes Oscar to freeze.

“I’m sorry… did you say power thief?” Oscar ventures. Luca pulls at his sleeve frantically. They are running out of time, but Oscar brushes him off.

“Of course. You don’t believe those myths about our ‘lord and savior’, do you boy?” The woman smirks. “They say he has every power, but at the end of the day he has nothing but the mind of a thief.” Oscar stills.

“What do you mean?”

“He takes our powers, boy. Sucks them from us until there is nothing left. Eventually it kills us, you know. To have our abilities sucked away like that. And for what? He uses our powers for a few moments until he cannot grasp them anymore and they are gone forever. Such a waste. Why do you think he has so many prisoners? We’re nothing but fodder for the dragon, my boy.” The woman coughs, covering her mouth with a scarred hand. It comes away red with blood. “I don’t have long now. He took my ability last night. There’s nothing he can do now to punish me for sharing his secret.” She pauses a moment, taking a raspy breath. ”Go, boy. Run now, before it’s too late,” she shrieks, a fierce spark burning behind her eyes. Oscar allows Luca to drag him away at last. They duck into the corridors beyond, twisting through The Keep’s narrow passages. They duck into a stairwell as a guard passes, but he takes no notice of them.

“Myriad has a weakness,” Oscar breathes. Luca nods, finding the smaller boy’s hand in the darkness and giving it a light squeeze. As Oscar’s heart does backflips in his chest he can’t help but think that for once things are going his way. They find a service door leading outside, and as the two sprint into the darkness, leaving the looming compound behind, they allow themselves to feel a flicker of hope as it races through the air.

They get halfway to the fence before the first bullet screams over their heads.

Aster has been watching the back doors of The Keep for hours, a growing sense of dread crawling at her throat. She checks her watch for what feels like the hundredth time. 00:00. Midnight. If Oscar and Luca were coming they would have been here by now.

Desperately Aster glances at The Keep a final time… and freezes.

Two figures are sprinting towards her. Fear rises in Aster’s throat but the clouds shift overhead, causing a beam of moonlight to illuminate Oscar and Luca’s familiar forms. With a smile Aster fishes a flash grenade from Oscar’s bag, waiting in anticipation as the distance between her and the boys slowly shrinks. Bullets begin to scream through the air, but they miss their targets dramatically. The Scanners have clearly been caught off guard. Soon Oscar and Luca are only twenty feet from the fence, triumphant grins on their faces. Luca runs with a limp, but it hardly slows him.

Aster hooks her finger around the flash grenade’s pin, tenses… and stops. As she watches Luca’s limp seems to worsen. Within moments he is on the ground, screaming in pain as he clutches his calf.

Oscar struggles in vain to lift the larger boy to his feet, collapsing time and time again. Desperation hangs heavily in the air, a suffocating stench.

Without thinking Aster sprints towards them, taking Luca’s other side. She is dimly aware that she dropped the flash grenade somewhere in the chaos, but it no longer seems important.

Working together Aster and Oscar are able to pull Luca to his feet, and begin inching their way towards the tear in the fence.

“Was he shot?” Aster screams, struggling to be heard over the gunfire around them. Oscar shakes his head, tears cutting through the thick grime that coats his cheeks.

“I couldn’t heal his nerve endings. The pain from running must have been too much,” he responds. They are five feet from the gate now, but Luca’s breathing is incredibly shallow. With each step Aster and Oscar are forced to bear more of Luca’s weight.

A bullet nicks Aster’s ear before hurtling through the fence. She can smell the metallic sweetness of blood as it begins to trickle down her neck. In the distance she can barely make out the sounds of Enforcers as their bikes roar to life.

“We’re not going to make it,” Aster whispers. Though Oscar could not possibly have heard her over the gunfire he looks up, the same realization flickering in his eyes.

“Please… please leave me,” Luca chokes out, collapsing to his knees. Oscar’s eyes go wide with horror as he shakes his head mutely.

Then, Oscar releases Luca and takes a hesitant step backwards. As if making up his mind he sprints towards the fence. Towards freedom. Aster’s stomach drops. Was Oscar really going to run? After all they had gone through together? A numb grief spreads through her stomach. How could she have been so foolish? They all left her in the end. Her father. The Gentlemen. How many more people would have to turn their backs on her before she learned not to trust?

Suddenly an ear splitting noise sounds from behind Aster, accompanied by a searing bolt of light.

The flash grenade.

Aster staggers forwards, blindly feeling for Luca’s hand. Why had Oscar detonated the device? Was he not satisfied merely abandoning them? He had to make sure his friends were captured as well? Rage blooms in Aster’s stomach, masking the pain of her head pounding. She lets out a scream of frustration, which rings through the field for an instant before a thin hand claps over her mouth. Enforcer. The word flashes through Aster’s mind but she hesitates a moment. There is no electricity pulsing through the fingers over her mouth. The hand reeks of a damp jail cell and unwashed bodies and Aster stills, familiarity washing through her.

“Oscar.” She growls his name, turning to rake her fingers across the traitor’s face, but she is still disoriented from the flash grenade and merely claws at the air.

“I’m sorry, Ace. I’m sorry. We both know that all three of us can’t make it out of this alive,” he whispers, and Aster feels the hand he has covered her mouth with tremble.

“So you sacrifice Luca and I? To Myriad, of all people?” Aster seethes.

“What? No. You are the face of a revolution, and Luca will die if he returns to that damn prison, Ace.”

Oscar loosens his hand around her mouth and Aster wrestles from his grip, snatching her pistol from the back of her jeans in a fluid motion. She brings it level with Oscar’s head, but hesitates.

“Oz… what are you talking about?”

“I’m disposable, Ace. Just some street urchin who got lucky enough to make friends with people who actually matter. The rebellion needs you. They need Luca. I… I’m just a healer who can’t even heal completely. Right now though, at this moment, I can save you. Let me distract the Scanners. You cover Luca, and the two of you can escape. Please, Ace. You have to let me do this.”

“No,” Aster gasps, the syllable ripping its way from her throat. “Everything will be fine. You’ll see.” Aster blinks a few times and slowly her vision begins to return, the effects from the flash grenade wearing off at last.

Oscar crouches before her, a hand on each of her shoulders. He looks so fragile kneeling before her, but as the shouts of surprise from the Enforcers behind them give way to screams of outrage something hardens in his expression.

“I’m not going to let you use yourself as bait,” Aster says bitterly.

“I know. That’s why I’m not giving you a choice. It’s easier this way.” There is pain in Oscar’s eyes unlike anything Aster has seen.

“You don’t have to do this, Oz.” She wraps the boy in a tight embrace, which only makes him sob harder.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, before Aster feels a sharp stinging at the back of her neck. She tenses for a moment, trying to push sounds of confusion through lips that have suddenly gone numb. The world spirals to darkness, and she is vaguely aware of her head striking the dirt below as she falls to the earth. For a moment she feels one of Oscar’s tears as it falls upon her cheek, but in the next instant it is as if she has been sucked into oblivion.

…

Aster’s body pulses on the ground several times before going still. Oscar looks at the syringe in his hand, guilt filling him.

It wasn’t like he had a choice, though. Aster was so hellbent on saving everyone that sacrifice was a word entirely forgin to her vocabulary. Oscar laughs bitterly, rolling Aster’s still body atop Luca. Luca lets out a muffled whimper but doesn’t move.

Sacrifice was a concept Oscar was all too familiar with. When his parents sacrificed themselves to save him… or when Theo, the only boy he had ever loved was killed trying to defend a woman who was practically a stranger to them.

As Oscar’s feet pound against the dirt below, taking him far away from his friends, Luca’s face flashes at the back of his mind.

Perhaps Theo hadn’t been the only boy he had ever loved. With a grunt Oscar shakes the thought from his head. Love is a dangerous emotion. Too much blood had been spilled on his behalf by those he cared about.

“I don’t love Luca,” he hisses under his breath. To love was to lose, and Oscar didn’t know who he was without Luca by his side. He wouldn’t lose him, though. This time he would sacrifice himself. This was not the work of a hero. He knew that much, at least. This was the work of a coward… one who was too terrified of loss to attempt to preserve his own life.

Oscar’s legs scream beneath him, but he forces himself to keep running. The Enforcers grow nearer with each breath, and he wonders how much longer he can keep this up. The distance between him and the far edge of the fence closes quickly, and suddenly he is a few yards away from the rusting metal. He makes as if to scale the wall, though he has no intention of reaching the other side. He clings to the metal desperately, mere feet above the heads of the Enforcers.

They step back as a single male Enforcer glides through their ranks, removing the rubber glove covering his right hand in a practiced motion. Static fills the air and Oscar can feel the hairs on his arms perk up. He lets out an involuntary shudder as the Enforcer closes the distance between them. The man extends a hand towards Oscar’s exposed shin, but the boy looks away, clinging desperately to the fence. As a final element of his plan Oscar turns to the empty streets beyond The Keep, screaming two desperate words.

“Luca, run.”

Then, it’s as if poison has been poured into his veins. Light explodes behind his eyelids and his muscles seize, fingernails cutting perfect crescents into his palms as his fingers tighten. Suddenly it’s as if his mind has been run through a blender. Thoughts flee his mind like feathers to the wind, and all he can feel is the pain. As he crashes to the ground below a single word escapes his lips.

“Luca.”

Everything goes dark.

…

It feels like an elephant has mounted Luca’s chest. His ribs scream as the weight atop them shifts, but he cannot muster the energy to care. He manages to open his eyes a fraction of an inch, watching as the evening breeze plays with a small leaf far above his head. A lock of hair blows across his face and he is brought back to simpler times, toying with Aster’s hair as they talked with Oscar late into the night.

“You were right about Aster needing to shave her head, Oz. Her hair is way too tickly,” Luca mumbles, watching as the light brown strands dance in the breeze. His comment is met with silence. Pain pulses through his mind, scattering his thoughts, but at the backmost corner of his mind a deep sense of unease falls over him. Eventually his breathing slows, and he falls into a deep sleep.

Though he doesn’t understand why a single tear makes its way down Luca’s face.

…

Aster forces her eyes open, though the darkness surrounding her makes it seem as if they are still closed. Confusion clouds her mind, and it’s as if she is clawing her way from it’s murky depths. Nothing makes sense. Red lights glint in the distance and she can barely make out the hum of an Enforcer’s bike among the city noise. She shifts her weight and the ground beneath her moves.

Luca grunts, flinching at the hip that has been driven into his side.

“Sorry,” Aster mumbles, the word feeling thick and forgin as it rolls from her mouth. Suddenly the Enforcer’s bike grows louder, rattling The Keep’s fence as it approaches. Without thinking Aster throws herself to the ground, landing atop Luca yet again.

He opens his mouth as if to speak but she presses a firm finger to her lips and he goes silent. Aster listens in horror as combat boots dismount from the bike, clattering against the gravel nearby. The footsteps grow louder for a moment and Aster scarcely dares to breathe, but the guard turns away.

A man’s voice echoes from across the field. “Patrol shift. You’re requested in the south quadrant for security.”

“Have you guys found that runaway yet?” A feminine voice responds, sounding eerily familiar. Aster is dimly aware that this is the same Enforcer who brought Fallon word of Luca’s arrest.

“Not yet, but we will. There are only so many places a kid can hide in this city.”

The female grunts something in response, but Aster can’t make the words out. The man continues jovialy. “Joke’s on the kid, though. His friend screamed his name over the fence. Pointed the bike squad to the exact quadrant he ran off to- we’ve got the whole place on lockdown. There’s no way he can get out now.”

“What’s the escapee’s name?”

“Lucas, or somethin’ like that.”

“Hm. I suppose I’ll get to my shift, then.” There is the sound of boots on gravel again, but it fades quickly and the field soon returns to silence.

Eventually Aster releases her breath, chest rattling as the air hisses from her lungs. She absently raises a hand to the back of her neck where her fingertips brush a small scab.

Memories flood her mind at once, flashes of color pushing the fog away. Luca falling. Oscar injecting her with some mystery drug. Falling… darkness.

As Aster’s mind clears one glaring fact doesn’t make sense. Why hadn’t the Enforcers come for her and Luca? They are well within the Tracker’s range. Aster knows the Trackers are unable to detect her because of her lack of power, but surely they had seen Luca, right? Confused, she squints at the boy still pinned beneath her. Then, she gasps quietly. What if…

Acting on impulse Aster finds the silhouette of a Tracker patrolling the roof of The Keep. Slowly she shifts her weight to the side, rolling off of Luca. The silhouette steps towards the edge of the roof, and is suddenly illuminated by a dim red light. They pause for a moment, as if determining the best course of action, but the collar around their neck pulses with light and their hand immediately covers the rifle slung over their back. Aster watches as the barrel glints in the moonlight, aiming at Luca’s form like an unblinking eye.

Instantly Aster throws herself over Luca, breathing heavily. After what seems like an eternity she dares to look back towards The Keep. The figure removes their fingers from the pistol beside them, gives a shake of their head, as if to clear their vision, and continues to patrol as if nothing had happened.

Aster lets out a frantic yelp of excitement in the darkness. Somehow the Scanners were only reading her lack of powers. Because she is blocking Luca from their vision they are unaware of his presence.

For a moment she is blissfully happy. Luca and her were incredibly lucky that the Enforcers had not circled back to capture them.

Then a pang of guilt rips through her core. This was not luck. Oscar had made the Enforcers think Luca had already escaped The Keep… and in doing so landed himself back in prison. Aster knew all too well that the guards would not be as lenient with him this time. She should have been the one behind bars. How was it that of the two people she had tried to free from prison one was on the brink of death, and the other was undoubtedly being tortured for his crimes?

Aster allows herself a moment of frustration, growling under her breath, but in the next instant she pushes the emotions away, save for anger at the Enforcers- at Myriad himself- for taking her friend yet again. Good. She lets the anger fuel her as she turns towards Luca, gently waking him.

…

Luca blinks wearily, grumbling as someone begins to shake his shoulders more vigorously.

“Oscar, stop,” he whines, curling into a ball. He hears a sharp intake of breath, and Aster’s signature scowl swims into focus. “Oh. Hey Ace,” he mumbles sheepishly.

“Hey,” she mumbles, voice breaking. She helps him to his knees, positioning herself directly between him and The Keep all the while.

“What are you doing?” he asks, leaning to the side to look around her, flinching as pain rips through his side. She instantly grabs his wrist, pulling him back in front of her.

“Don’t. The Scanners will see you if you don’t stay behind me,” Aster snaps.

“Wait… they can’t see me?” Luca murmurs, incredulous.

“Yeah. Something about me not having powers messes with their abilities. Oscar figured it out.” Aster’s voice is hollow.

“Ace, that’s amazing!” Luca grins, looking around. “Where’s Oz? Maybe that dumbass is good for something after all.” Luca scans the streets beyond The Keep’s fence, as if his friend would be standing just outside, waiting for him to come home. The streets are empty.

“Luca…” Aster chokes out the word, agony flooding her voice. Luca stills.

“No. No.” Suddenly Luca’s eyes go wide and he pivots towards The Keep, trying to lunge past Aster. Before he can pass her, though, she tackles the larger boy to the ground, expertly twisting to put him in a headlock. He gasps and struggles against her grip, but she holds fast. Eventually he stops struggling and she releases him, carefully positioning herself in between him and The Keep, more to prevent another ill-fated sprint than to block signs of Luca’s powers from the Scanners.

Luca looks up from the ground, hatred brimming in his gentle brown eyes.

“Oscar-” he whispers, a mangled sound. Aster cuts him off with a snarl.

“Don’t be an idiot, Luca. Sprinting after him will only get you killed.” Luca mutters something unintelligible under his breath, turning towards The Keep once again as if to run. A moment later, though, his legs give out beneath him and he collapses to the ground, shaking uncontrollably. Aster kneels beside him, gently pulling his head into her lap. “I know, Luca. God, I know. Oz was one of us. This kind of pain isn’t one that will heal.”

“But you don’t know,” Luca snaps. “You don’t know what they do to you in there… in the cells. It hurts, Ace. Oscar has been hurt enough.” Luca looks up at Aster, eyes brimming with tears. “Oz doesn’t deserve this.”

Aster can only nod, afraid that speaking will bring tears to her own eyes. She needed to be strong. For Luca. Blinking fiercely she pushes the tears away. The two sit in silence for a moment before Luca speaks.

“They’ll pay. They’ll pay for hurting him,” he growls, and Aster sits up with a start. Luca had always been the gentle one- the sensible one. Everyone has a breaking point, though. It had just taken Luca longer to snap than others. “I’m going to kill Myriad,” Luca whispers, his voice devoid of all emotion. Aster lets out a harsh laugh, helping her friend to his knees.

“Only if I don’t kill him first.”

In bitter camaraderie the two make their way to the fence, one limping step at a time.

The safe house feels empty without Oscar, but Aster had no choice but to bring Luca here. Gentleman territory was little more than a pile of ash and rubble and most of Frey was crawling with Enforcers.

The outskirts of the city seemed to have been forgotten, though. Aster and Luca hadn’t encountered a single person in the eerily silent streets the night before.

They had been lucky so far. How long did they have before that luck ran out?

Aster takes a trembling breath, trying in vain to push the anxiety aside. She knows she should be relieved. Oscar’s diversion had saved her life, after all. In the moments before his capture he had been able to convince the Enforcers that Luca had escaped to a different sector of the city and that Aster had never been near The Keep in the first place. Oscar. Grief crashes down upon Aster’s chest, but she forces herself to blink back the tears as Luca stirs.

“Hey,” she mumbles, turning to face Luca. He flinches at the noise. “It’s just me.” Aster rests a hand on his shoulder and the taller boy gives her a mute nod. A tense silence grows between them, and Aster finds herself wringing her hands together. “I’ll get us some breakfast...er, lunch,” she mumbles, forcing a small smile. Luca doesn’t respond.

***

Aster pushes aside a decaying curtain to enter the back room, squinting to see the shelves in the dim light emitted by a crack in the ceiling. The electricity to this sector of the city had been cut a long time ago.

She takes a flashlight from the bottom of her pack and pans the beam across the dusty shelves. They are completely empty. Startled, she takes a step closer. When Oscar had brought her here he claimed there was plenty of food. Had the store room been raided while she was gone?

Absently she runs a finger along one of the shelves, frustrated. When she and Luca had reached the safe house in the early hours of the morning they had collapsed on the floor, unable to go a step further. She hadn’t even checked the perimeter- whoever stole the food could still be nearby. A bolt of fear ripples up her spine, and she turns to race back to Luca.

As she turns, though, Aster’s fingertip snags on the corner of a shelf. Blood blooms from the cut and she curses under her breath. This was all too much. Exhausted and angry Aster aims a halfhearted kick at the wall next to her.

Thunk.

The wall shudders before swinging back towards her. With a yelp she jumps to the side, cautiously approaching the doorway. There is a small pantry tucked behind the hidden door. It’s only a few feet deep, but the shelves are lined with more supplies than Aster has ever seen outside of Gentlemen Territory.

Immediately anger flares in Aster’s chest. How could Oscar have kept these supplies a secret? As she takes a step forward, however, a cloud of dust rises around her. There are no footprints aside from hers in the pantry, and a thick film of dust coats everything inside. Oscar had never set foot in this space… which meant the food he had given her had come from the now-empty shelves. Raiders were as common as rats in Frey, but Aster still finds it disturbing that someone had been in the shop. The crumbling building no longer feels like a sanctuary, but she supposes this is for the better. Those who are comfortable make easy targets.

Aster inspects the pantry. Canned meat and vegetables line the shelves, and in the corner…

Her breath catches in her throat as she bends down to inspect the bottom shelves. A blue pill bottle sits amid cans of tuna, a peeling label describing the painkillers inside.

“Luca, you’ll never guess what I found.” Aster bounds into the main room, kneeling by her friend. Slowly she helps him lean against a wall before running back to the pantry for an ancient bottle of water. “Here, take these.”

Aster tucks the blue pills into Luca’s palm but as she steps away his fingers begin to tremble violently, sending the pills skittering across the dusty floor. Silently Aster retrieves them, wiping away the dust on the edge of her shirt. Once again she goes to hand the pills to him, but this time he snatches his hand away.

“No,” he whispers, voice raspy.

“It’s alright, Luca. If you need I can feed them to you,” Aster says, only half joking. She kneels by the taller boy’s side. “C’mon, after this we need to find The Gentlemen. If we can convince Fallon, er, your dad to help us we’ll be one step closer to rising against Myriad. Just have some water and take these-”

“I don’t want your drugs,” Luca snaps, slapping Aster’s arm with enough force to send the pills spiraling towards the far corners of the room. She takes a startled step backwards, raising her hands in surprise. Luca flinches.

“Oh god, Luca, I’m so sorry,” Aster blurts, dropping to her knees. She throws her arms around him and his body goes rigid for a moment before he reluctantly returns her embrace. “You know I would never… I would never hurt…”

“I know, Ace,” Luca manages, his voice sounding fragile.

“I shouldn’t have brought up your dad. I know you two…” Aster trails off.

“Don’t have the perfect father-son relationship?” Luca finishes with a bitter chuckle.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I should be the one apologizing. You’re right, you know. Without The Gentlemen- without Fallon- we don’t stand a chance. I never should have lashed out at you. I’m just- I’m scared, Ace.”

“I know. I am too,” Aster mumbles, fishing two more pills out of the bottle. Luca takes them without comment.

The duo finish their lunch in exhausted silence.

Thwack

Something strikes the outside of the building. Aster tenses, meeting Luca’s wide eyes. Silently she edges towards her pistol, discarded on the dusty floor. She can hear faint voices outside the window.

“Let’s check this one,” a deep voice murmurs.

“I just raided there yesterday,” a girl whines.

“You sure?”

“Mmm-hmm!” The girl chirps. Aster stills. The voice sounds oddly familiar. Suddenly a loose board covering the window swings open revealing… no one.

If Aster squints, however, she can barely make out a small shadow as it spills across the floor of the shop. A Spector. Hesitantly Aster wraps her fingers around the gun at her side, raising it until the barrel points directly to the invisible form standing before the window. Aster tenses and…

“Wait,” Luca screams, heaving himself awkwardly to his feet as he starts towards the window. Hesitantly Aster lowers the gun. “Charlie?” Luca whispers.

The air shimmers and suddenly Aster can make out a small girl in a very battered pink dress.

“Luca?” she squeaks, eyes wide. Her brother says nothing but crosses the room in two strides, lifting the smaller girl off her feet in a crushing embrace. She lets out a quiet sob, but recovers quickly. “Warrior princesses do not need hugs, pheasant,” she says haughtily. With a chuckle Luca gently sets her down.

“Don’t you mean peasant? A pheasant is a kind of bird, Charlie.”

“You dare contradict me, pheasant?” Charlie grins, rising on her tiptoes with all the intimidation an eight year old can possibly muster. Luca just smiles and ruffles her hair.

A shadow falls over the window as a burly man awkwardly stumbles into the room. He has dark skin and a pair of spectacles that fit oddly over his crooked nose. Aster vaguely recognises him as one of her advisors from when she was still leading the gentlemen. Had that only been a few days ago?

“Theodorus, why are you here?” Aster says, helping the older man through the window.

“You may call me Theo. As for my business here The Baron has tasked me with keeping an eye on Miss Charlotte here,” he explains, his soft voice a blatant contradiction with the cords of muscle and scars covering his body. Theo hesitates for a moment before continuing. “I’m sorry that Fallon took your title, miss,” he says awkwardly. “You were a fine Baron.”

“It’s alright. There are more important things than titles,” Aster says, and for the first time, looking at those gathered around her, she believes these words.

As if noticing Aster for the first time Charlie saunters away from her brother. She approaches Aster, punches her in the stomach, and walks away.

“What was that for?” Aster gasps, protectively wrapping her arms around her stomach.

“You didn’t take me to save Luca. How am I ever gonna be a warrior princess without training?” Charlie asks, pouting.

“Well… your punch form is pretty good,” Aster groans, collapsing to her knees dramatically. Charlie giggles, but the noise fades as she scans the room.

“Wait. Lukey, where’s Oscar?” Luca wraps his arms around himself, staring intently at the floor. Charlie hesitates, her voice dropping to scarcely a whisper. “Is he…”

“No. He’s alive, Charlie. Myriad has him,” Luca chokes out. Relief washes over Charlie’s face and in an instant her grin returns.

“And we’re gonna get him back, right?”

“Yeah. Of course,” Luca says, trying to project confidence into his voice.

Leaving the siblings to their discussion, Aster approaches Theo.

“Did all of The Gentlemen escape?” she whispers.

“Only two didn’t make it. Many more would have died if you hadn’t taken on Tracker and his enforcers,” Theo responds, an odd reverence in his voice. “On our way to the outskirts of the city Charlie found us.”

“Good. I was worried about her getting to safety after I left her to run to the fire,” Aster says with a sigh. “I never should have left her.”

“In leaving her you likely saved her life. Do not dwell on the past, child,” Theo murmurs, resting a hand on Aster’s shoulder. “You are a hero.”

Aster can only shake her head, Oscar’s determined face flashing behind her eyelids. A true hero would have kept him safe.

***

The Gentlemen’s new camp is pitiful, to say the least. Theo leads Aster and Luca to the basement of an abandoned office building where there are no windows to betray signs of life. Fifty people lurk in the shadows, dark save for a handful of pitifully flickering floodlights. Generators hum loudly in the cramped space, and Aster can’t help but feel as if she is in the stomach of some great beast.

She helps Theo distribute cans from the shop’s hidden pantry, but the few cans they were able to carry back are gone in moments, leaving far too many outstretched hands empty. Grief rises in Aster’s throat.

Luca tenses beside Aster and she knows he has caught sight of his father.

“Fallon,” she mutters, turning to face the man towering over her.

“Aster. You should not have come back. Not at a time like this.”

“Actually, there couldn’t have been a better time for us to return,” Luca muses, turning towards his father slowly. Fallon freezes.

“L-Luke? But I thought…” Tears glisten in Fallon’s eyes as he moves to wrap his son in a hug. Luca tenses further, leaving his arms at his sides. Awkwardly Fallon steps back.

“Nothing has changed between us, father,” Luca says calmly, though Aster can feel the suppressed emotion in his voice. “We need your help. If you cannot listen to Aster maybe you can listen to your own son. Aster helped me escape, but the Enforcers captured Oscar.

Fallon’s nose wrinkles at the mention of Oscar’s name.

“You have come all this way for some boy?” he seethes, venom lacing his words. Luca bristles but forces himself to remain calm. “Father, you know Oscar is important to me… but we are here for more than that.” He pauses for a moment, as if expecting Fallon to object again, but the older man says nothing. “The Gentlemen must rise against Myriad,” Luca insists.

“You know we can’t do that. Most of The Gentlemen are injured. We’re barely clinging to life as it is,” Fallon pleas, looking with concern at those around him.

Rage flares in Aster’s stomach and she finds that she can no longer bite her tongue. Though Luca attempts to stop her she takes a step towards Fallon.

“This is the day we decide.” Aster’s voice is louder than she intends it to be, and as it carries through the space several Gentlemen turn towards her. “We either fight now or condemn ourselves to a future of silence. Of fear. I am tired of being afraid,” Aster shouts, this time intentionally. Fifty pairs of eyes meet hers, and in a moment of decision she strides away from Fallon, stepping atop an ancient filing cabinet turned on its side to address the crowd.

A young man calls after her.

“What do you have to be afraid of? You’re immortal. A hero. We are not like you. We may have fought against Myriad once… but not anymore.” he shudders, the bags under his eyes looking more like bruises in the harsh floodlights.

It’s as if time slows around Aster as she takes a shallow breath and turns to face The Gentlemen. Without saying a word she fishes her father’s pocket knife from her belt and draws a line across her palm with its tip. Blood blooms in the cut at once and as it begins to spiral its way across her palm Aster thrusts it before the crowd.

Ripples of shock race through those assembled and Aster feels panic spike in her chest, The Baron’s words echoing at the back of her mind.

Never let them know. You are weak. Powerless. Without my lies you are nothing.

Aster pushes the words away.

“I know you will not forgive me for how I have led you. For how I have lied to you… but you must understand that I do not fight because I am immortal.

I fight because I don’t want our children to grow up in a world where they are taught to hide from Enforcers before they are taught to walk.

I fight because good people- our people- are dying in cells, fuel for a power-hungry tyrant. I fight…” a tear rolls down Aster’s cheek. “I fight because I am so damn tired of being afraid.

I don’t want to live in fear anymore.

I know I cannot ask you to fight by my side. I have caused too much pain to ask for your trust. But I will ask for this: Stand against Myriad. Do not let him mistake our silence for compliance. And perhaps we will fail. Perhaps our corpses will litter the ground of his Keep… but our screams of defiance will live on. We cannot keep waiting for salvation. We are Frey’s salvation. We are Frey’s last chance… Frey’s only chance.”

Aster’s words echo into silence.

After a moment she steps off of the overturned filing cabinet, absently taking the bandage Luca offers for her palm. A part of her had hoped some grand speech would change these people’s minds.

She should have known better.

Tears map constellations across her cheeks and as she turns to Fallon his mouth is set in a grim line.

Aster passes him slowly as she moves towards the door, determined to keep her head high despite the walk of shame before her. As she passes he murmurs something into her ear.

She squeezes her eyes shut, willing the tears away. She takes another step before his words sink in.

“I will fight with you.”

“What?” She pivots back towards him, but Fallon has already taken her place atop the filing cabinet.

“This girl has no power and yet continues to cheat death. Forget immortal… she is barely mortal. Trapped somewhere between our human fragility and something greater. And yet, she is willing to die. Not for herself, but for us. Not in spite of her fear but because of it. Because she does not want us to live in fear any longer. Will we, The Gentlemen of Frey, stand beside her?”

Fallon turns towards Aster and raises a single hand to his chest. He removes the pin from his breast and gently presses it into her hand. With trembling fingers Aster takes her father’s medal. She holds it to her chest for a moment before slowly extending it over her head.

“Who will stand beside her?” Fallon booms.

One at a time fifty arms join Aster’s in the air- a warrior’s oath.