Realization fell over Aiden like a bucket of cold water.

  He did not know if the truth should terrify or amaze him. A lot of questions remained unanswered, but in front of him was a man who held the answers—who knew the truth, unpleasant as it might be.

  Aiden took his hand.

  The world shivered for an instant, then changed. The musty, ravaged walls and a decorated office replaced the suffocating prison cell he had woken up in. An amber wooden desk, polished to a shining luster. A similar set of chairs—one in front of the desk, the other behind it.

  A globe of yellow light hung from the ceiling, nothing but a small mockery of the Torch, its soothing brilliance providing color to the world. A painting, confusing in its swirl of colors and symbols, depicted a battle between a white-furred humanoid creature and a black-haired swordsman.

  But none of that caught Aiden’s attention more than the bookshelf to the side. So many. Books of all shapes and sizes, bound in leather—some even wrapped in metal. They called to the curiosity he had been born with, promising answers to questions he never thought to ask.

  “Have a seat,” Helvan motioned to the chair.

  He fixed him with an impassive face, his eyes examining something only he was aware of. The silence in the room was chilling; his scrutiny made Aiden uncomfortable, but he did his best not to let it show.

  “Say, Aiden, what do you think about the painting?” Helvan asked.

  “Messy.” Aiden examined the painting, but the random symbols took away from the scene. “The white thing, whatever it is, doesn’t seem to like the guy with a sword.”

  Helvan looked stunned. It was as if Aiden had provided a deep insight into the mind of the painter, for the elderly man nodded and produced a smile.

  “You can see it. I was right. I knew it,” the old man muttered.

  “I mean, they look like they’re about to kill each other.” Aiden frowned at the reaction. It did not fit Helvan’s attitude, not as far as he knew him. “What’s so shocking about that?”

  “What?” Helvan looked back at the painting but quickly turned away with a sickly frown. “Ah, yes. A conversation for another time, Aiden. That’s not what you want to know, is it?”

  Aiden swallowed the dry lump in his throat. “Np. My family, you said they’re in danger. But Elysium is supposed to be a paradise where you can eat your fill, sleep in actual beds. That sort of thing. Why are they in danger?”

  “All true,” Helvan said with a nod. “If you are born Sovran.”

  “But—”

  Helvan silenced him with a raised finger.

  “What do you think a Catalyst District is, Aiden?” He continued to speak without pause. “It’s a factory. Common knowledge, right? But what does it produce?”

  “Coal,” Aiden said with a frown.

  “Wrong.” Helvan pointed up to the light sphere in the ceiling. “That doesn’t require fire or coal to feed its flame. Neither do most of the heat sources in Elysium.”

  Coal was a straightforward material, at least in Aiden’s eyes. The residents of the district mined it in the Gloom Caves—some lucky few were even granted a portion of it, depending on their performance. It was something essential for their daily lives, for one could not start a fire without it.

  It was a constant reminder of their dependency, an incentive to wake up every day and perform grueling work. Yet the overseers restricted those of insufficient age from going to the mines. That made little sense.

  Even though it was essential. Even when authorities harshly punished adults who failed to meet their quota. Even when mining that single resource was the purpose of their existence.

  Purpose. Aiden shivered at the thought. They never needed the coal.

  “People.” He closed his eyes as a dark realization fell over him. “The Catalyst District produces miners. People. And they… harvest us during Ascension Day. That’s why they don’t allow kids to mine. Can’t have their products be damaged.”

  The daunting truth in Aiden’s words elicited no more than a dispassionate nod from Helvan.

  “Why? Why do they need us?” Aiden was forced to reconsider everything he once took for granted.

  “I’m afraid I can’t tell you,” Helvan sighed.

  “That’s a load of shit! Abyss, man, you promised answers,” Aiden snapped at him.

  Frustration made his grip tighten on the chair until the polished wood broke. Aiden paid it no mind.

  “During Heightening, every Sovran is forced into a binding vow. It’s built on the very remnant that grants them access to the arcane. Impossible to avoid.” A frown wrinkled his aged face further. “Even if I could tell you, I’m afraid the knowledge would only harm you.”

  A binding vow. That’s just convenient!

  “All those who know are forced to keep the secret. The rest all assume miners are brought as servants. Nobody even questions that.” Helvan shook his head at Aiden’s indignation. “Why should they? No one in Elysium cares about what happens down here.”

  Aiden heaved a sigh. Helvan was right; every miner knew none of the Sovrans bothered to do more than what duty required of them. As long as a miner did not make their tasks harder, it was not unheard of for the overseers to stay at their towers for months.

  “I could set fire to this place, kill every miner, make this place a wasteland, and it wouldn’t mean a thing to Elysium—it happened before, after all.” A dark shadow cast over the old man’s face. “More than once.”

  No, that can’t be right. I’ve never heard of something like that.

  “Not in your district.” Helvan must have seen the distrust on Aiden’s face. He motioned to a book on the shelf, forgetting Aiden did not know how to read. “The Rebellion of Catalyst District 1.”

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “Wait, what do you mean by one?” Aiden shot to his feet. “There are… more than one?”

  “That’s right. Your home isn’t that unique, boy. Besides the Gate, there’s nothing irreplaceable about it.” The old man glanced at the broken chair but did not mind. “There are ninety-nine other Catalyst Districts. Yours happens to be the ninety-ninth.”

  Aiden fell silent.

  “We’ll continue this tomorrow.” Helvan stood up and walked to the door, motioning for Aiden to follow. “Think about what I have disclosed to you, for thought is the light that guides the victorious, and impatience is the killer of fools.”

  ***

  The sound of a muffled impact shook the ground. Grunts of pain echoed in the long hallways as Aiden followed Helvan along what had once been dark tunnels. Now, the darkness gave way under his unnatural sight.

  The walls rumbled.

  Light spheres hung from the ceiling, illuminating the path ahead and casting shadows where their brilliance did not fully reach. Nothing escaped Aiden’s eyes, be it shadow or complete darkness. Everything was but a shade of gray.

  A muffled grunt of pain echoed in the corridor.

  Aiden yearned to learn the full extent of what he was capable of, but there was too much going on inside his mind. Now’s not the time. He glanced at Helvan, the old man’s height shorter than he remembered, and shook his head. Prying answers from the Sovran was no simple task.

  Somebody uttered a nasty curse.

  Helvan stopped in front of a plain, wrought metal door. All the noise originated from behind it. He opened it, motioning for Aiden to follow inside.

  The ceiling was higher inside the room, several paces above even the tallest Sovrans. The area was circular and wide, with weapons organized into wooden racks at the edges. Smooth stone, similar to the material in the Steps of Elysium, formed the floor. Splashes of blood were the ornaments that adorned the floors and walls.

  Two people noticed their intrusion.

  One was a Sovran man of similar height and age to Aiden. His hair was black, cut short close to his scalp. He was a shirtless, bloody mess, with muscles adorning his lean physique—stringy and refined into tight cords that rippled under his skin.

  The other made Aiden flinch on instinct. She had shoulder-length red hair tied behind her head, caramel eyes that were observant, inspecting him as a crafter would their masterpiece. A cheerful yet chilling smile played on her lips.

  Myra.

  “Aiden!” she approached, excitement written clearly on her face and arms open for a hug. “So good to see you.”

  Aiden tried to step behind Helvan, but Myra was faster. She enveloped him in a tight hug that sent uncontrollable shivers running through his body.

  “Myra,” Aiden forced a smile. “It’s… good to see you.”

  “That grumpy man didn’t let me visit you, can you believe that?” Her eyes stabbed at Helvan. “Truth be told, I wasn’t sure you’d pull through.”

  Aiden silently thanked Helvan for keeping her away from him.

  “One month of his training is already wasted. I take it you understand what to do, Myra?” Helvan spoke.

  “Yes, sir! Of course, my lord!” Myra saluted before whispering, “Don’t mind him, he hates when people have fun.”

  The other Sovran walked toward Aiden. “Who’s the skeleton? These guys been starving you or something?”

  Skeleton? Aiden glanced down at his arms. He did look thinner than he used to.

  “Aiden.” He extended a hand.

  The other Sovran, to his surprise, shook the hand without disgust. “Name’s Finn. You could say I’m the boss around these parts.”

  “Finn is a recruit, same as you, Aiden.” Helvan shot him a glare. “Though his training has started before yours. They’re all yours, Myra. I have better things to do.”

  Helvan departed, leaving only Aiden, Finn, and Myra in the room.

  “Myra, do this. Myra, do that!” She mocked Helvan’s rasping voice. “I swear, ever since he came back as an old man, he’s been all bossy and bitter!”

  Came back as an old man? Aiden exchanged a glance with Finn, but the other man shrugged. This woman is not right in the head.

  “Anyway, boys, there’s a lot for you to learn.” Myra clapped to get their attention. “Especially you, Aiden! But we’ll get through that. Etiquette, how to not get your ass handed to you, how to go about without getting caught. That sort of thing.”

  “But let’s start with the easy part. Fighting!” A maniacal grin overtook her features.

  “Finn, you will spar against Aiden. I just want to know what he’s capable of, so don’t play around breaking any bones or causing any injury I’ll need to heal, got it?”

  “Might be better to give him something to eat first,” Finn said, throwing a concerned glance at Aiden.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  Wait, that’s weird. It had been a month since he last ate anything, unless Helvan had fed him while he had not been himself. Aiden was certain that was the case, for the alternative was far too bizarre to consider.

  “Really? That’s odd, the old man didn’t feed you anything,” Myra said, shattering Aiden’s hopes.

  Finn moved as Myra spoke. He pivoted his body forward, fist cutting through the air in a blur of explosive movement, and shot a straight punch at Aiden’s gut. Air rushed out from his lungs as he doubled over and dry-heaved onto the floor—another indication of an empty stomach.

  “What… the abyss?” He coughed.

  “Wake up, skeleton boy. The fight started the moment she said so.” Finn turned his back in clear provocation. “Come on! This can’t be all that you got.”

  The short-haired Sovran smirked and beckoned Aiden with one hand behind his back. A challenge. A mockery. Underhanded bastard! Aiden had never been in any fights, only one-sided beatings that ended up with him on the floor. But this time, he yearned to be the one to teach a lesson.

  Closing his fist, Aiden raised his guard and shortened the distance with measured caution. Finn raised an eyebrow and relaxed his shoulders. His arm twitched as he threw another punch at Aiden’s face.

  Aiden rolled to the side. I saw that coming! Something struck him in the belly. It was the same spot Finn had hit before, a message that ridiculed his efforts and denounced his lack of skill.

  “Alright, that’s quite enough.” Myra pulled Aiden to his feet with one hand. “Not much of a fighter, are you?”

  “That’s putting it lightly. This guy can’t fight to save his life!” Finn snorted a laugh. “No idea you guys recruited amateurs like thisthat.”

  Aiden felt his face coloring to an uncomfortable crimson. Finn’s words might be rough and provocative, but it was the undisguised truth. His performance had already been embarrassing enough, so he chose not to give a meaningless comeback.

  The assessment, if it could even be called that, ended without ceremony. Myra left after showing him to a plain, small room that could barely fit him. A comfortable bed, if tiny, was stuck to the sculpted monotone stone. A table and chair, crafted from a type of black wood that resembled coal, adorned the opposite side.

  The bed was as soft as he imagined, but Aiden did not let himself appreciate it. Everything felt out of control. Events spiraled around him, their consequences unknown. The Gate. The Beyond. The Ascension. The ring.

  And now I’m some kind of spy. Aiden massaged his temples. He felt way out of his depth. What are these people thinking?

  The secret organization, the Witnesses of the Beyond, had goals he understood even less than the previous monumental events of the past few days. I need a moment to… take a breath. But he knew that was a luxury he could not afford.

  Myra had told him of the rigorous training ahead, advising caution to avoid injuries she could not heal. But Aiden let the warning enter one ear and leave the other. He needed to catch up to Finn if he wanted to have the strength to fulfill his binding vow.

  He needed to get stronger. If all that blocked his path was just a little pain, Aiden refused to flinch.

  “I don’t break that easily.” Aiden snapped his fingers, turning off the light sphere. “Do your worst, Myra.”