Chapter 7

  The amarite mine

  Aaronn was shoved violently into a cell. He stumbled before catching himself against the wall in front of him. The light attack he had just endured still burned through him. Despite his regenerative abilities, the brutality of Manve?n’s beam lingered. The warrior’s powers were of a rare and violent intensity.

  The bars of his prison clanged shut behind him.

  “You’ll spend the rest of the day in here since you want to play smart with us,” the guard said. “I’m not sure how you made it to the surface, but the Eyes assured us it didn’t matter. If you insist on escaping, go ahead—but this time, you’ll die.”

  With that, the guard walked away. Aaronn straightened and leaned against the wall, staring at the bars. The only light in his cell came from the mine itself, along with the ceaseless clanging of pickaxes echoing all around.

  His mission had started poorly. Aaliyah had warned him it would end like this. But he didn’t regret his choice. Now he knew what to expect with Eile?n. His only problem was escaping this mine. The light warrior guarding it made fleeing impossible. The easiest solution would have been to call his sister… No. He had to get out of this on his own.

  The Eyes seemed to be his only obstacle. He needed information on him to counter his powers. The other prisoners could provide it. As long as he could give, he might survive.

  “Hey, what’s your name?” a voice called from behind the bars.

  Aaronn lifted his head, his green eyes glinting in the darkness. He recognized the young man who had tried to rouse him after his fall. Short brown hair, a friendly smile that lifted his slightly rounded cheeks.

  Aaronn smiled back.

  “You came to help me?” he asked in the same friendly tone. “I’m Aaronn.”

  “Right now, I don’t think I can do much for you, but what you did earlier was completely insane! How did you do it?”

  “To do what?”

  “Come on, you know exactly what I mean. Walking through thin air like that! You can’t be a Chosen—you don’t have silver eyes! And I saw you heal from the wound the Eyes inflicted, with no enchantment. Only Grufus has that power.”

  A small, awkward laugh escaped Aaronn.

  “That’s a lot of questions at once,” he said. “I—”

  “Hey, you! Back to work!” shouted a guard from down the corridor.

  The young man flinched and began to back away.

  “Alright, I’ll get your answers later! I’ve got to go. By the way… I’m Linart,” he called before disappearing from view.

  “Come on, get up!” ordered a guard, opening the cell.

  Aaronn slowly opened his eyes. It was the same guard as yesterday. The clanging of pickaxes no longer filled the mine. He was surprised he had managed to sleep at all after the deafening chaos of the previous day. Unlike his sisters, he needed silence to relax. He got to his feet.

  “Walk in front of me,” the guard commanded.

  Aaronn obeyed without protest. The soldier led him through several stone corridors, illuminated by white neon strips set into the ceiling. They arrived at a steel arch framing a large door. A digital display above read 04. They climbed the few stone steps leading to the entrance.

  Behind the door lay the prisoners’ dormitory, dimly lit. Only the LEDs surrounding the far door provided light. Cells lined both sides of the room, built into the mine walls and separated by reinforced glass.

  They passed through the far door. This area was fully lit, with blue lockers stacked along the walls.

  “This is the changing room. Showers are on the left. Your locker is number 444, and the code is 8234. You’ll find a change of clothes and your mining equipment. I’m bringing you here early so you can get your bearings. The others should be along soon—they’ll explain what you need to do.”

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  Aaronn nodded.

  “What’s my cell number?”

  “Same as your locker.”

  The only time Aaronn had ever been to prison before was when he was escorting new inmates to Malmane, the Arcane’s maximum-security facility. He smiled at the improbability of the moment.

  “What’s so funny?” the guard asked, his gaze sharp.

  Aaronn’s smile faded, his brows furrowing slightly. What did he want? He could feel the edges of the guard’s aura bristle with aggression.

  “Nothing,” he said. “I’m just trying to stay positive about the situation.”

  The guard exhaled and allowed the hint of a smile.

  “I saw you heal from your wound yesterday,” he said in a deep voice, as if trying to maintain a distant tone despite his curiosity. “Who are you? How do you have these powers?”

  Even without reading his aura, Aaronn could sense the confusion swirling in the guard’s mind.

  “I’m pretty sure you’re not allowed to ask questions like that,” he replied.

  “Don’t play smart with me!” the guard snapped, raising his weapon. “If I want to protect this place, I need to know everything. Answer me!”

  “Then you should threaten me with a weapon that actually works,” Aaronn said. “That one isn’t.”

  The barrel of the gun lowered slightly.

  “I’m sure you already know my name,” Aaronn continued. “As for my regenerative powers… I was born with them.”

  “Stop lying!” the guard yelled, raising his gun again. “You don’t have silver eyes! How do you walk through thin air?”

  “That?” Aaronn said. “I learned that later, around the age of eight. My father taught me.”

  The soldier’s face shifted between disbelief and anger, as if the answer shattered all his prior assumptions. Suddenly, the door behind them opened, and the guard lowered his weapon.

  “I’ll be keeping an eye on you, Aaronn,” he said before leaving the room.

  Aaronn quickly lost sight of him among the incoming prisoners. Whether doctor or guard, they seemed eager to get close to the Chosen.

  “Aaronn!” a voice interrupted his thoughts.

  He recognized the boy from yesterday.

  “Linart.”

  The boy extended his hand with a wide, welcoming smile. Surprisingly friendly, given they didn’t know each other. Aaronn accepted the gesture and shook it.

  “I didn’t introduce myself properly. I’m Linart Goyram.”

  “I’m Aaronn Karselfeni. I see I caught your attention yesterday.”

  “Of course! It’s not every day you see someone walk on air. Especially for an Eleusian who isn’t a Chosen. Everyone has questions.”

  Aaronn noticed curious eyes glancing toward them from the lockers.

  “I suppose.”

  “Besides… someone has to show you around and explain the rules here. If you don’t work properly, it’s death. No one cares if you were briefed or not.”

  “Really? Who made the rules?”

  “The king. Come on, I’ll teach you the basics.”

  “Don’t bother with details. I don’t plan on staying long.”

  After showering, Aaronn and Linart went to their lockers and retrieved pickaxes.

  “Do we really have to mine with just a pickaxe?” Aaronn asked.

  “Yes. We can’t use heavy equipment—the noise could attract crackmendres in the mine.”

  Aaronn blinked. He knew that species. Crackmendres also lived on Arthémis—a reptilian subterranean creature feeding near amarite deposits.

  “Follow me. We’re short-handed in my group,” Linart said.

  Aaronn followed him. They left the dormitory, passing through several corridors toward the mine’s center.

  “You can use the elevator to orient yourself,” Linart said, glancing down over the railing. “Our mining point is on the second walkway, on the far side, gallery 33. We need to go down two levels and circle around the center.”

  They resumed walking. The clanging of pickaxes gradually returned. Aaronn surveyed the mine’s corners carefully. Guards patrolled every walkway. He saw no other exit than the elevator.

  “Don’t look,” Linart said. “It’s the only way out.”

  “I figured.”

  They reached their gallery and entered. The floor sloped downward gradually, ending in a chasm. Linart crouched, using footholds to descend. Aaronn followed.

  “So…” Linart broke the silence. “Who are you, really? Most Eleusians would kill to know your secret.”

  “I have no secret. You might find it hard to believe, but I come from another planet.”

  Linart froze, mouth open.

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “You know… people call me gullible, but this… I can’t accept. Your answer raises far too many questions.”

  “I’m not asking you to believe me. My people want to help your planet, under certain conditions. But your king isn’t ready to accept it. You can see my presence here as punishment.”

  Linart stared as if Aaronn were mad. Aaronn had no reason to hide the truth or play a role. Perhaps sharing it might help reach the resistance if it spread. Linart resumed descending.

  “The king… history… claims the Eleusians are alone in the universe. That the Chosen are the ultimate stage of the human species.”

  “And you believe that?”

  “I believed it when I was younger…”

  He paused, choosing his next words carefully.

  “I believe you, you know,” he said. “Or at least, I really want to. I could never swallow this Chosen story. I never wanted to. How could my life’s value be decided at birth? I don’t accept it.”

  Aaronn felt a deep sadness. He had asked himself the same questions as a child. At birth, the gene controlling his regeneration was inactive. He was far weaker than a normal Arthémien. Those differences had eroded his confidence—especially for a boy who dreamed of following his father, king of Arthémis and founder of the Arcane.

  “If what you say is true, I have a deal to propose,” Linart said.

  “What kind of deal?”

  “We help you escape, and in return, you tell us everything you know: powers, weapons, technology, and why you’re here.”

  The sudden offer surprised Aaronn. Though tempting, he couldn’t reveal everything without caution. He needed to know who this boy really was. If he offered escape so easily, he was hiding something too.

  Still, Aaronn decided to follow his instinct, sticking to his usual strategy: give to receive.

  “Alright,” he said. “To start, I’ll tell you the secret behind my powers. In exchange, you tell me who you really are.”

  A wide grin spread across Linart’s face.

  “Deal!”

  “And who is this ‘we,’ by the way?”

  “You’ll see—I’ll introduce you. Men and women aren’t allowed to mine in the same gallery. Safety measure, you understand?”

  “Yes.”