Englecon Mine, Desmond, 10416 P.C.

After the encounter with the diseased, Matthew was held in quarantine. He spent long hours sitting against the wall of the isolation room, staring at nothing, only the Warmth and his thoughts for company. His terrible, uncomfortable thoughts.

Why had the Overseer wanted to see if he could heal those people? Was it because he hoped to stop the disease? Matthew had thought for sure that the man wouldn't have cared, but then, if there was a disease floating around, anyone could contract it, the Overseer included. It made sense to try every remedy possible, but Matthew was no remedy. He could heal himself, but that was it. He couldn't heal anyone else. It made him feel so helpless.

I'm not your saviour.

He didn't know how many days it was before he was allowed to go back to the sleeping room along with the other slaves. He knew they'd stare, so he didn't bother looking around as he quickly retreated to his regular corner and slid down the wall. Did they know what had happened, or were they confused as to why he had disappeared for a while? He told himself he wasn't as popular as his insecurities tried to make him out to be. Probably very few people had even noticed his absence.

Abby had. He noticed her several yards away, watching him. When they made eye contact, she nodded at him. He returned the nod slightly. Did she know that it warmed him to know she cared? It warmed, yet also burned. She cared, and he cared, and in the end all it reaped was grief for one or both.

The guard with the light left, plunging the room into darkness. Matthew found he could breathe easier that way. Fewer eyes to see him. The room was full, but he felt alone in the darkness. For several long minutes, there was rustling and whispers, but before long it quieted. Within minutes, only the sounds of sleep broke through the night. Matthew curled up on his side, resting his head on his arm and closing his eyes. Sleep took him faster than it ever had before.

Rustling. Matthew wasn't sure when he had come to his senses, but he heard movement near his head. He stayed still, fighting to keep his breathing even as he strained to hear what was happening around him. Someone was whispering urgently, and he could hear panting — someone was scared. Or excited. Or both. He struggled not to tense up as he felt someone move close to him. Cool metal touched his arm.

Mentally cursing, he moved, grabbing the person's arm with inhuman speed. They gave a muffled shriek.

"What are you doing?" he hissed, wishing he could see in the darkness. Pushing the Warmth into his hands, they glowed, and he tried to see who was around him by their faint light.

"Matthew." Ah, that was Kylie's voice. He knew she would have been involved in this. "Let Cameron go."

He didn't loosen the grip he had on the man's arm; he searched for Kylie in the darkness. "What are you doing?" he demanded again.

"I told you. We're leaving." She was perfectly calm.

Matthew swallowed back a curse. "You'll get yourselves killed." How many people were with this girl? Had they all already unlocked their bands while he had been asleep, or was this Cameron guy the first one? He didn't know what he was hoping for.

"We are fighting back! Are you going to join us?"

"Join you? It's suicide!"

"It's suicide to stay." Gone was the little girl who had spoken to him weeks ago — this girl was fire. "I would rather die fighting than die submissive. What are you going to do, Gifted? You stay here day after day after day doing nothing with the gifts you've been given while the rest of us are dying! If you aren't going to join us, then stay here and do nothing. Just do not get in our way." She grabbed his wrist, digging her nails into his skin.

Matthew instinctively pulled away, letting go of Cameron. He fell back against the wall, wishing he knew where she was. "I'm not Gifted," was the only thing he could think of to say.

"You're right. You are a coward."

Her words silenced him.

They left, and he let them. He struggled not to care, even as he watched them slip out of the sleeping room by the faint light that came through the opened door. There didn't seem to be many figures. They were nothing but shadows and in seconds they were gone. All was dark again.

No one stirred. Matthew fought not to. Sleep was evasive now, and he wished for it more than anything else at the moment. Anything to escape Kylie's accusing words. The minutes ticked by angrily. At any second he expected the door of the sleeping room to slam open, the escapees caught and the Overseer furious.

So when it did happen, Matthew nearly thought he was dreaming it. It took him three full seconds to realize he wasn't. A nauseous, bitter taste filled his mouth as he watched the guards march into the room, yelling and kicking at the sleeping slaves to wake them. Matthew stayed still, his back against the wall, watching in the light of the torches as more guards swarmed into the room. There were muffled cries and brazen yells; the slaves stumbled to their feet, groggy and disoriented, shuffling back as the Overseer stepped into the room. Matthew's heart stuttered. He watched through the arms and bodies of the slaves between him and the door as several guards dragged the runaways into the middle of the room.

Matthew wasn't sure what he was supposed to be feeling — he felt sick more than anything. Through the crowd, from his vantage point on the ground, he could clearly see the runaways forced to their knees in the middle of the room.

He saw Kylie for the first time. He knew it was her when their eyes locked across the distance. She was young, around the age he had been when he had first been brought into the mines. Her skin was as dark as the shadows and her eyes as fiery as the torches. There was no fear, only determination and fury on her dirt-streaked face. Matthew could feel the intensity of her gaze so strongly he almost looked away.

Almost. He didn't. He held it firmly. I told you.

Her eyes answered: Coward.

He didn't move.

The Overseer's voice echoed throughout the silent and tense room. "Tonight, five of your fellow prisoners attempted to escape." He paused. "You all are prisoners! You are thieves, Illegals, castaways and beggars. Our great and mighty king has given you life, and this is how you repay him?"

Matthew pressed his lips together when Kylie broke their fiery eye-contact to speak against the Overseer's words. "He has given us nothing but death! Motch is no king of mine."

The Overseer turned on her. "You dare defy him, wretch?" He backhanded her across the face, the crack of his knuckles on her cheek echoing across the room. Matthew bit down hard on his lip, watching her recover. She found his eyes again. There was pain there now, glistening along with her tears. Matthew couldn't help it: he looked away.

"You all are worthless!" the Overseer yelled. "Your lives mean nothing! There is no one coming to save you and you cannot save yourselves!"

"The Immortal One loves us!" Kylie lashed back, her voice high and trembling. "He will rise up again!"

The Overseer pulled out his knife. "Your Immortal One deserted you long ago. There is no one to save you now."

Matthew squeezed his eyes shut tightly. Kylie cried out, the sound of a bleating lamb on the slaughter block. The next moment, there was nothing but silence, and then the other four runaways followed their young, bold leader. Matthew heard it all.

"These serve as examples!" the Overseer bellowed. "Warnings! This is what happens to those who defy our great king! Anyone caught trying to escape will die, is that understood?"

Matthew opened his eyes and regretted it: the Overseer was looking directly at him, his gaze like ice seeing right into the depths of Matthew's soul. Tar-like darkness pooled in Matthew's chest, icy and full of terror. It dawned on him too late: He knows.

"Bring them," the man ordered, and four guards broke away from the entrance and started into the crowd, two heading for Matthew, the other two—

"Don't touch her!" Matthew burst out, springing to his feet and barrelling for the men bearing down on Abby. He was hit hard from the side, tackled to the ground by one of the guards assigned to him. He fought back, smashing his elbow into the man's cheek and struggling to get out from under him. He heard Abby scream his name from somewhere beyond him, and his resolve hardened. He flipped the man off of him to meet the second, who he smacked away like a toy. Rolling to his feet, he fought to find Abby in the torchlight.

The two guards held her between them. She found him, her eyes pools of fear. "Matthew!"

He started for them, ready to do... he didn't know. Anything.

"Boy!" The Overseer's bellowing voice stopped him. He looked over quickly, tense.

The Overseer stood in the middle of the room amid the puddles of blood left by those he had just murdered. In the dim light, he looked like death itself. "Do you wish her fully dead? If so, continue."

Matthew looked at Abby. She looked so terrified. He wanted to collapse in his overwhelming anger and helplessness. He stepped back, letting out a shuddering breath, the grief consuming him as he stared at his friend — his last friend, his only friend. Because of him, she was going to be punished.

Rough hands grabbed his arms. He surrendered as they roughly forced him to the door, not being gentle in any way as they did. The Overseer met them at the door and led the way down the tunnel, his step brisk. Matthew felt the blood beneath his feet before he saw it, blood from the corpses dragged from the sleeping room just seconds ago. The ground swayed and bile rose in his throat. He wanted to curl up into a ball and disappear. He knew what was coming and he wished it only involved him.

"Please, don't touch her," he begged as the guards shoved him and Abby into the punishing room after the Overseer. The guards left immediately after; it was only the three of them in the room alone. Matthew didn't know why he was pleading with the Overseer — it only brought the psychotic man pleasure. Indeed, the man's eyes gleamed at Matthew's words, but he pleaded anyway. "Beat me instead. She has nothing to do with this."

Abby was so close to him, he could felt her panting on his arm. He felt the overwhelming desire to comfort her, but he didn't. How could he? She was innocent, about to be punished in his place, and he couldn't save her.

"We had an agreement, Matthew," the Overseer said slowly, walking to the edge of one of the pits and looking down into it. He didn't seem to be concerned about them running off — he knew they wouldn't dare, not after what had happened with Kylie and the others. "You agreed to my terms. You listen to me, and if you step out of line, the girl is punished." He looked up at Matthew. "Were those not the terms?"

Matthew swallowed hard. Dare he try to reason with evil? "I didn't step out of line. I was asleep. They used me to unlock their cuffs, I swear, I wasn't involved. I swear it on my life!"

"On your life? You swear it and yet you knew. Didn't you? You knew they were escaping."

"I knew they'd get caught!" Matthew yelled, furious at himself for the grief that burned his eyes. He had known, and he had done nothing about it. He had done nothing to help. He had sat there, watching, not lifting a finger as their lives had ended. Coward. His breath trembled. "I refused to help and they used me all the same."

"Indeed." The Overseer looked back down at the pit. "Come here, Matthew."

Abby stiffened behind him and he instinctively grabbed her arm, squeezing it in a way he hoped she found comforting. Looking back at her, he saw the silent tears that streamed down her cheeks, the terror in her eyes. His chest ached. He was stuck. Trapped. There was only a sliver of a chance that he could spare Abby, and he didn't cling to that hope.

So he whispered to her the only comforting thing he could think of: "Stay strong." Then he moved away, slowly walking up to join the Overseer at the edge of the pit. It was deep. Foreboding. Deadly.

The Overseer was silent for a long, terrible moment. "You refused to help, and still, they used you." Once again he gave that evil, unnerving smile. "They see you as a saviour, boy."

Matthew stared down into the pit. His heart pounded, but he was strangely still. "I'm not," he breathed.

"And I'll make sure you never become it."

Before the man's words registered in Matthew's mind, a sharp pain cracked through his skull. He tumbled forward, balance lost, Abby's scream exploding in his ears as he fell headfirst down, down, down. He hit the sloped floor of the pit hard, his hands out to stop his fall and taking the brunt of the hit. He heard the snap of his wrist before he felt it; his shoulder connected next, smashing the rock with incredible force, jarring him as he rolled. He was on his chest, breathing in dust, his head burning with a pain so sharp he could barely move.

Abby's shrieks continued above. Struggling to think through the stabbing pain, Matthew shifted, gasping as the pain in his broken wrist exploded up into his already battered skull. It felt like there was a dent in the back of his head. The trembling fingers of his unbroken hand sought out the wound, coming away bloody.

"The people see you as their saviour, boy!"

The Overseer's voice was like nails pounding into Matthew's head. He struggled to escape the crippling pain, his heart pounding shakily as he tried getting to his hands and knees. He nearly sobbed with the effort. The Warmth was spread so thin he barely felt its presence. The world reeled before him. The pain in his head was unbearable.

"I suppose it's time to prove them wrong, isn't it?"

A whip cracked. Abby screamed. Matthew clawed at the side of the pit, struggling to get up through the agonizing pain. It blinded him. His panic consumed him, suffocating him.

"No!" he choked as the whip snapped again. Abby's scream of pain jolted through him like a shock. "Stop, please!"

Clawing, scratching, sobbing. Tears blinded him, pain drove him to his knees. Her screams. Lily's screams. Bloody nails, bloodied walls, begging for it to stop, stop! Spinning, falling, everything pain, everything grief. Broken glass, broken walls, broken sobs. Matthew slid down, down, struggling to breathe, blood trickling down the wall before his eyes.

Abby's blood.

"Matthew! Don't leave me!"

"I'm sorry," he sobbed. "I'm sorry!"

"You're so much more."

Matthew slid down the wall and gave in to the pain.