Meritona Hills, Desmond, 10416 P.C.

The excitement of being outside was short-lived. As they travelled, Matthew found that the day was getting increasingly hotter; the sun beat down on them overhead, and in the hills, there was no shade. A chilling breeze presented itself every once in a while, but that too was always short-lived. Sweat soon soaked his shirt. His hair either hung in sweaty clumps about his cheeks or stuck out like frazzled wires. He could practically feel the sun burning his sensitive skin. The mule pulling the cart he was chained to was slow yet consistent, faithfully pulling the stacked-high supplies. More had been added to the cart, making it impossible to hitch a ride on it; therefore, Matthew was forced to walk. The dirt road they travelled was full of ruts. Weeds and dry, prickly crabgrass fought to grow in the middle, while on either side dead and dying grass proclaimed the end of the summer season — or perhaps the beginning of it. He didn't know. This ground was a new surface to Matthew's feet. Although they were well-worn from the stone floor in the mine, he wasn't sure he liked the feel of the dead grass on his heels. It poked him in ways stone never had.

The other slaves walked in clusters and groups, surrounded by guards. Now that they were all out in the open, Matthew realized how many guards there were. There had to be at least one for every three slaves, which was impressive considering that there were a couple hundred slaves to account for. Umair must have been assigned to keep an eye on Matthew because the slave master wasn't ever too far away.

As they travelled, Matthew couldn't help but wonder where they were going. Relocation wasn't an everyday thing — Matthew hadn't ever experienced it in all his time in the mines. Sometimes slaves would be transported to and from different mines, but never had he heard of an entire mine being cleared out. There were seven or eight mines in Desmond, each one mining for a specific purpose or mineral. Feldspar had been their main mineral. What were they going to mine now? Iron? Coal? He didn't know.

That day was nothing short of miserable. They finally rolled to a stop when the sky was full of stars and slaves were collapsing from exhaustion. The Overseer called for a night's rest. Matthew sank to the ground and lay on his back, taking a deep breath, thankful for the ability to rest his legs. He heard a scuffling noise, and then Abby was lying down in the prickly grass beside him.

"How're you doing?" she asked him in a whisper.

"Still breathing." His back stung a bit, but he wasn't about to mention it. She didn't know he had been beaten. She didn't know that his wounds had healed themselves.

"That's better than some," she whispered, and he opened his eyes to look at her. She was sitting up on one arm to look into his face. "Eight people haven't made it so far."

"I didn't want to know that." He was being truthful — he didn't. It was easier to ignore the reality of it if he just didn't know.

Abby slumped back down to the ground. "I'm scared."

The sky above them was full of stars, billions of them, dots of light in the sky millions of miles away. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen the night sky, but even now it was hard to marvel at its beauty. It was beautiful, yes, but all he could think about was the pain and agony that occurred down below and the unfairness of it all. He hated it. "You shouldn't be here, Abby."

"Why?" she demanded, up on her elbow again. The exhaustion drew lines on her young face, created bags under her eyes, and yet her words were full of vigour. "Why shouldn't I be here? What did you do, Matthew?"

Matthew sat up and rubbed his face. "Abby..."

"Tell me! Please."

In all of his rashness, he had already made up his mind. He wanted to get the severity of it into her head. Without a word, he reached out and grabbed the metal clasp around her wrist. The purple lines on the cuff flickered and then blinked out. Abby stared hard at it. She had already seen that trick.

"What does it mean?" she asked. "Can you take it off?"

He hadn't even wondered about that. Without thinking about the consequences, he felt around the clasp, trying to figure out how the Overseer had taken it off. His finger found a pad. The clasp popped off.

Abby stared in shock and amazement. "Matthew..." she breathed. "You... you... the magic—"

"Magic?"

"Yes! These cuffs have magic! You- it doesn't affect you!" She lowered her voice. "Matthew, you could free everyone."

Matthew opened his mouth to speak, to protest, but a voice cut him short. "Grab them, quickly."

Abby shrieked when two guards came around the cart and grabbed her by the arms. Matthew dropped the cuff, his chains rattling as he was grabbed as well. They were pulled apart; Abby was screaming, yelling his name, and Matthew panicked.

"Don't hurt her!" he yelled, struggling against the strong arms that held him captive. He managed to knock the men to the ground, yanking on his chains and ripping them right out of the cart. He started forward, ready to free Abby, but he stopped short when a sword came down and blocked his path. The Overseer swung the blade at him. Stumbling back, Matthew fell, dodging the man's lazy swing. He hit the ground hard, unable to catch himself with his chained wrists. The Overseer walked up to him, pointing his sword at Matthew's neck.

"The girl is right," the man said. His voice was low. Dark. "You could free everyone."

"Matthew!" Abby was sobbing, shaking in the grip of the men holding her. "No, no, don't hurt him!"

The Overseer turned to examine her. "Put the girl back with the others," he ordered the men. "Make sure she doesn't slip away again."

Matthew let out a pent up breath, ignoring Abby's sobs as she was led away. It didn't look like she'd be punished, which relieved him. But only a bit, as the man's sword had not wavered.

"You," the Overseer said as he crouched down beside Matthew, "amaze me. I've given you a chance, boy, and you're just proving how dangerous you really are."

Matthew looked the man in the eyes. If he was going to die, it would be defiantly. "Go ahead then. Kill me."

"So bold. So assumptive. I will kill you. But not now. Until then..." The man rose to his feet, pulling his sword away from Matthew's throat. As he did, the tip of the blade nicked Matthew's chin. Matthew gritted his teeth, trying not to flinch as the fresh cut stung in the cool night air. He knew it hadn't been an accident. The man looked down at him smugly. "I will do with you as I please. Umair!" he barked, sliding his sword back into its sheath as he addressed the young slave master. "You're to watch him. Don't let him leave your sight. In fact, cuff his wrist to yours. I don't trust him to stay away from the others. He's got too much bravado in him."

The Overseer nudged Matthew with his boot, and Matthew scooted away from him. Gently, he rubbed the cut on his chin with his thumb. It came away bloody.

The Overseer kicked him this time. "Get up!"

Matthew obeyed, staggering to his feet and shaking the hair out of his face. He clamped his teeth down on his lips, eyeing the Overseer as Umair came up beside him and hurriedly locked another cuff above the other on Matthew's wrist. He attached the other to his own wrist. Matthew felt the cold eyes of the Overseer on them as Umair pulled him away. "C'mon kid," Umair muttered, an anxious edge to his voice. "Before he wants his fun."

'Fun' was not the term Matthew would have used. He followed Umair to the other side of one of the carts, where Umair sat down and leaned on the wheel with a huge yawn. Matthew had no choice but to join him. He nearly hit the back of his head on the side of the cart as he sat down, but Umair didn't seem to notice.

"Get some sleep, kid," the man mumbled, and then added, "You're a wonder, you know."

Matthew's mouth was dry, and he did his best to swallow as he looked at Umair. "What do you mean?"

"You aren't afraid of the Overseer. That makes really only one of you. We're all terrified of the man, and yet you aren't."

He couldn't have been more wrong, but Matthew couldn't find the words to tell him that. "Why... why do you think that?"

"I don't know. You're just different is all. I can feel it. We all can." Umair's lips twitched. "Don't let it get to your head though, kid."

Matthew paused. "My name is Matthew."

The humour was gone from Umair's face in an instant. "Yeah. I don't use names. Makes my job easier that way." He shifted uncomfortably. "Go to sleep, kid."

Matthew, knowing the man was done talking, obediently closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the cart. "Makes my job easier that way." Matthew couldn't blame him. How hard was it for these guards, who were just doing their job, to watch all of these people suffer? Not all of them were conscienceless. Matthew had to believe that. In the end, they were all slaves. Some could just pretend they were free.

Opening his eyes again, Matthew stared up at the stars. There were millions of them. They were vast and spectacular, something Matthew had only seen a few times in his life. Despite their awesome beauty, their sight left a bitter, longing feeling in his chest. The Creator of all those stars... He was out there, somewhere — or so they all said. So why was He letting all of this horror happen down below? He seemed to be far more concerned with painting the skies.

"I will kill you. But not now. Until then... I will do with you as I please."

Matthew pulled his knees up to his chest and hugged them, averting his gaze from the stars and instead resting his chin on his knees and staring out at the hills around them. The grass was dead and dying, the carts were scattered around, and he could see the other slaves huddled together on a gentle incline. It was too far away to make out faces, so he didn't even try. Instead, he closed his eyes tightly. He wished he were anywhere but there, that he was anyone but himself.

Because Matthew knew he was different. He also knew that different was very, very bad.

All of this hell and the Placer of the stars did nothing.