Icy fingers enveloped Aiden’s heart in a tight grip.

  Pain brought him back to the world. He gasped for air like a dying man, opening his eyes to the blinding brilliance of the torch and the murmurs of the crowd. The hand slipped away from his heart, allowing him to breathe without the wide-eyed panic of ill-acquired sleep.

  What in the abyss was that?

  Aiden tried to bring his hand forward to see if his chest was wide open, but something held them behind his back with the bitter touch of metal. Chains. It did not take a genius to understand the situation he was in, or the death that loomed behind his head like an unsheathed blade.

  “The reason you’re called here again, the second time in a day, is simple.” Overseer Travor’s familiar voice cut through the murmurs. “A grave crime was committed, one which demands punishment of the same severity.”

  Crime? What choice did you bastards leave me? The fiery rage within his gut started to boil.

  Blinking away the brightness, Aiden took in the view. People, all residents of the district, gathered once again on the Steps of Elysium, not a shred of hope on their faces this time. The spectacle they watched was of a different kind.

  Aiden saw the horror plastered on their faces from where he stood chained on the dais. That’s not how I wanted to come here. No one else would ascend today. If the abyss was below the Haven like everyone claimed, today Aiden would descend.

  He snarled at the irony.

  “Aiden Greyston was found in possession of a forbidden remnant,” Overseer Corvanis spoke.

  The gasps of the crowd were deafening.

  “Not only that, but he resisted arrest and assaulted a Sovran. According to Blooded Decree, the sentence is ten lashes for resisting arrest, twenty for the assault—”

  “Thirty lashes? Just kill the boy already!” someone shouted from the safety of anonymity.

  “There ain’t a miner alive who can take twenty lashes and survive, my lords,” a rotund man shouted over the whispers. It was Big Red, the only citizen of the district who ate enough to become fat. “Maker’s mercy, my lords. Maker’s mercy.”

  “I have not finished, ratling. Speak again, and perhaps it is your skin that shall be taking the punishment instead.” Corvanis did not raise his voice, yet the words silenced the crowd as if the Psyker had used her magic once more.

  Big Red stared at Aiden for a moment, an unuttered apology on his clenched jaw, then looked away. Thanks, Red. He did not expect anyone to stand up for him, not with two Sovrans already looking to spill blood.

  Travor stepped forward, producing a brown leather whip. The weapon was kept pristine for the most part, yet darker, encrusted spots marred its cleanliness. Dark brown. Old blood. Travor smiled, tracing his finger along the whip, savoring its texture, tasting the flavor of what was to come.

  “The illegal possession of a remnant is punished by Excision,” he said.

  “Excision? That’s ridicu—” Melissa’s shout fell short as Tom tackled her to the ground, pressing a hand firmly over her mouth.

  “However.” Corvanis raised his hand to stop the murmurs of protest. “Aiden has no familial ties, as attested by the torch, which invalidates the Excision. His sentence shall be thirty lashes, followed by execution.”

  “Ain’t that the same fucking thing?” someone shouted.

  The miners murmured their agreement, yet no one dared to voice it louder.

  “See, Corvanis? The ratlings think they can even talk back to us.” Travor frowned, the whip unfolding as it hit the ground. “I’d say a few more examples are in order today.”

  “There is no need to make matters worse.” Corvanis shot him a glare. Turning back to the crowd with all the authority, dignity, and unveiled cruelty of a Sovran, he said, “I will grant the prisoner the right to his last words.”

  He walked next to Aiden and spoke in a tone meant for their ears alone. “Apologize for what you have done, show respect, and I will overrule the lashes. I will give you a painless death.”

  “You can’t be serious!” Travor almost dropped the whip.

  Corvanis looked at him, purple light staining his blue eyes. The black-haired Sovran swallowed hard and averted his gaze.

  The last thing Aiden expected was kindness from a Sovran, much less the one who had killed his father—to say the gesture surprised him was an understatement. That’s way too late, Corvanis. Where was your pity when you killed my dad? Fucking bastard. The more Aiden thought about it, the angrier he became.

  Aiden was alone after the torch chose his family. Robbed of a home, devoid of means to survive, perhaps death was mercy. Don’t fuck with me! Was he so pitiful that even a Sovran hesitated to get heavy-handed? Was his life so meaningless that they wanted to get the execution over with, just to avoid wasting time?

  Fuck him! Fuck all of them. All of you bastards can go eat coal!

  “I’m sorry.” Aiden’s voice trembled as he spoke to the crowd. A moment of silence stretched before he continued. “I’m sorry for not offering my neck to be chopped! You pieces of shit, who do you think you are?”

  Corvanis sighed and closed his eyes.

  If I’m gonna die, then I won’t be taking this shit anymore.

  “Resisting arrest? Want me to kneel and lick your shoes? Go fuck yourselves! Every single one of you Sovran bastards can go to the abyss.” His brown eyes had turned bloodshot.

  Some people in the crowd nodded, while others shuffled uncomfortably.

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  “You think you’re so above us miners, but you still eat and shit just the same.” Aiden let the rage inside him speak—the years of oppression that never found an outlet to escape. Until now. “Just because you’re taller, it means you’re better than us?”

  “You bastards only know how to take. You look at us like we’re some nasty insects, not even worth stepping on.” Spittle flew from his mouth, but Aiden did not care. “My dad, my family, my home. You took everything from me already, and now you want my life?”

  “You know what I’m really sorry about? That I can’t kill you myself. Abyss take me, I’d sell my soul to make sure every single one of you Sovran fuckers died a horrible death.”

  The gasps were loud enough to shake the ground, but that did not stop Aiden.

  Overseer Travor watched with wide-eyed wonder. No one had ever displayed such rebellion in the open, much less in front of two overseers. Aiden’s outburst might have taken him by surprise, but elation soon followed, for the punishment for such defiance was not something Corvanis could overlook.

  Not this time.

  “That’s what you get when you let these ratlings think they are human,” Travor chuckled.

  “Proceed with the sentence, Overseer Travor—”

  “Wait!” Tom barged forward, pushing his way through the crowd.

  “My lord, the kid ain’t thinking straight. He just lost his family. I’m sure those are just empty words he’s spouting. He ain’t really mean what he said,” Tom pleaded, but he knew deep down it was too late for that.

  Tom, sorry I’m leaving such a mess behind.

  “Execution is too much, lords! Let me take the lashes in his place. He’s just a kid! He ain’t got a single hair on his ass, much less knows what’s right or wrong. Please—”

  “Silence, ratling!” Travor warned. “This isn’t a debate. The sentence is final.”

  “But that ain’t right!” Tom shouted, falling to his knees and turning his attention to the other Sovran. “Overseer Corvanis—”

  Travor swiped his hand in the air. Red mist surged out from his skin, condensing into a thin, solid edge before shooting forward. Aiden heard the sound of wind being cut, followed by a wet thud.

  He struggled to process the sight before him. Tom’s head rolled across the ground, leaving a sinuous trail of blood in its path. It hit the bottom of the dais, where it stopped. His jaw was frozen open in protest. In pleading.

  In horror.

  “Any other ratling wish to bargain?” Travor sneered, not even looking at the life he had taken. Slain. He merely smiled.

  It sent shivers down Aiden’s spine.

  “Dear!” Aunt Mel ran to her husband.

  She stopped in front of his body, her eyes drifting from his torso to his severed head. Tears streamed down her face as she let out a scream. Tremors coursed through her body as she struggled to stand on unresponsive legs. She cradled the headless torso of her husband.

  “Noisy.” Travor waved his hand once more.

  Another head fell to the ground.

  “No!” Aiden thrashed against the chains. The metal bit into his skin, drawing blood, yet the pain felt distant. Foreign. The awareness in his mind trembled. “They didn’t do—”

  Travor planted a slap on Aiden’s face. It lacked any actual power behind it, a casual admonishment, yet the entire world inverted upon itself. He gagged on his own blood and broken teeth.

  The Sovran looked satisfied.

  “By all means, scream, ratling.” Travor smiled, patting him on the head.

  A moment later, he wiped his hand with a disgusted expression. With a single motion, he ripped off Aiden’s shirt as though it was rotten paper. The whip went high into the air and came crashing down with a crackling pop.

  Molten fire ripped through skin and flesh. It felt as though someone had decided to use Aiden’s back as a canvas for a drawing, but the piece of coal chosen still burned hot. The pain spread like a pulsating, bright line until he could no longer tell where it began or ended.

  Aiden held back the scream. It’s all my fault! I should’ve kept my mouth shut. It’s my fault. He looked transfixed at Mel and Tom. Dead. It was his fault. He bit down the scream. Another lash came, and this time he did not have the power to resist it.

  “There you go!” Travor snickered. “But you can do better than that, can’t you?”

  The whip struck again and again. It was the only thing that remained—everything else fled before the pain. Only the whip, Travor’s provocations, and Aiden’s blood-curdling screams made sound in the world. Not a single miner dared to voice protest, but he did not blame them, not after what happened to Tom and Mel.

  The tenth strike broke Aiden’s rib. The fifteenth broke his spirit. The sixteenth should have killed him, but Aiden survived. Somehow. It confused miners and Sovrans alike, as following strikes seemed to have a lesser effect even with the increased violence.

  Aiden had vowed to get revenge against the Sovrans. Calandor, Corvanis, Travor. But those delusions no longer mattered. He would abandon everything just to make the pain stop. Abyss take him, he would sell his own family if it meant putting an end to it.

  No! A piece of his mind anchored itself inside his soul. Never. All the pain, all I went through… they’ll feel it one day.

  As Travor struck harder, the pain grew weaker. Aiden had long since stopped screaming, gritting his teeth instead. Something within demanded retribution; he was not sure if it was the awareness or his guilt. Vengeance. Even if it took a day. A year. A decade. A lifetime.

  His thirst for it would not fade.

  The foreign part of his mind resonated with the hatred, but what he could hear most clearly were the words whispering inside his head, the text that appeared in front of his eyes.

  CATALYST ACHIEVED

  “Come on! Don’t. Be. Shy!” Travor roared in frustration.

  The pain vanished.

  Information flooded Aiden’s brain as the blue light of runic symbols manifested in front of him. It swirled and condensed into a thin square sheet of ethereal material made physical, of light crafted into an unseen glass.

  Another lash came. A malevolent grin split Aiden’s face.

  Travor looked at the whip, displeased at the meager amount of flesh stuck to it. “You’re a tough little ratling—creepy, too—I’ll give you that. But don’t worry, I’ll make this one count.”

  The Sovran held the whip with one hand, the other hovering above the bloodstained instrument in a practiced motion. Red mist poured out of his palm, revolving around the whip like a whirlpool. Travor trailed a finger along the whip’s length, forcing the mist into the leather.

  Small red thorns sprouted from it, resembling a vine.

  “I won’t kill him,” Travor said before Corvanis could object. “Don’t be jealous; I know he’s your kill, not mine.”

  The magic-imbued whip blurred as Travor’s arm moved at an impossible speed. It struck Aiden in the chest, breaking his bones. Red thorns ripped his flesh to pieces, biting off the skin like they possessed a life of their own.

  A wet scream tore itself from his throat as the thorns detached, burrowing under his skin like snakes swimming in blood. The Sovran magic pierced his flesh and thrashed beneath his skin. Blood pooled under his knees as Aiden dropped forward, not a single ounce of strength left to sustain him.

  “Ah!” Travor inhaled deeply. “Now, now, that’s what I call a day of fulfilling work.”

  He grabbed Aiden by the neck, bringing him closer to have a good look. “We’re the same, you say? The one holding the whip couldn’t be more different from the one who receives the strike, even if the Maker himself willed it otherwise.”

  “You ratlings live in caves, content to eat scraps, to dress like beggars, eager to serve.” The overseer shook him by the neck as if concerned Aiden would lose consciousness. “It’s your destiny, the sole purpose for which you exist.”

  “Open your eyes, ratling! In what world is a Sovran the same as you?”

  “You’re…” Aiden coughed blood. “Right. We aren’t the same.” Aiden let his bloodstained smile surface. “But pain doesn’t care.”

  The awareness inside of him unfolded into the world—into the hand that strangled the life out of him. Overseer Travor’s horrified expression was the last thing Aiden saw.

  By the Maker, that’s not a bad way to go.