Light cracked through the shadows that surrounded her. The overseer had tossed her in these pits before, cells so dark you couldn't see your hand in front of you. He had thrown her in here what seemed like years ago though it had probably been a few weeks at most. The light was blinding and for a minute or two she could only blink and try to shield her eyes. Sounds slammed into her, the clashing of swords, yelling and screaming, cries of pain and triumph.

And then someone, not an overseer but a man in fighting attire said, "There's a girl in here!" he shouted it over his shoulder before entering the cell and offering her a hand up. She tried to stand but her legs wobbled and gave out. The man lifted her up by the elbows and supported her. Another person came running in, this time it was a girl, a few years older than Lythian. The girl looked at her, at her thin limbs and hollow face and said

"She won't make it on her own, carry her." So the man lifted her up from her knees and carried her quickly out the cell. She didn't look back into that black abyss, she was too busy taking in the battle that was occuring. Overseers wielded their whipps against what looked like a ragtag militia. What was happening? She looked back up at the man carrying her, like the girl he wasn't much older than her.

"Who are you?" Her voice was hoarse, she couldn't remember the last time she had said anything. The boy glanced down at her for a moment, his face softening for a second.

"We are rebels, we are the lost people of Altoness." Rebels, her country's rebels. She had heard whispers of them, while she lived in the house, and here in the mines. In the secret moments of the night when the overseer was asleep and unknown voices dared to share near silent secrets. But she had never imagined they were real, that they could manage this. But when she looked around the rebels were managing to hold off the overseers, it seemed like they were getting as many slaves out as possible.

"Why-" she coughed trying to angle away from him, "Why have the rebels come here?" He looked at her sceptically.

"We are looking for someone, someone we thought dead." Did they know she had survived, was someone here to take her home. But the boy hadn't recognized her, though she was far from the little princess she had been before.

"Who?" her voice came out cautious even through its hoarseness and the boy looked down for another moment before running up a flight of stairs. After a few more hallways they emerged through a doorway and out into the open day. The yard was filled with guards battling rebels but there was the sun and it was warm on her skin. She had missed that warmth, though she would never feel it again but here she was. The boy kept jogging and sprinting through the mass. They approached the gates that were open, the gates were open and beyond them was a vast field with forests edging beyond the horizon. She took a deep breath as they crossed that line into that beautiful scenic place. Then she noticed the wagons and horses coming and going, all loaded with slaves and injured. Where were they taking her? The man set her down in a wagon beside a girl that she didn't recognize, but who looked like a rebel. The girl wore a leather vest and cotton shirt, her dark hair was loose and straight, it formed a sort of curtain that seemed to hide a quarter of her face. The girl noticed her and turned, her long silky hair moving out of her face to reveal deep brown eyes, eyes that looked her over like a hawk assessing its prey. She turned and saw the boy was leaving. "Please, don't leave me here." The girl scoffed.

"I'm not going to bite." But she said it in a way that made Lythian  wonder if it was true. She looked back to the boy who had turned to her. The boy looked at the girl beside her and said

"Reagan be nice." His tone seemed familiar but had a touch of what seemed like warning and she looked back to the girl, Reagan to find she was grinning like a cat.

"I'm always nice." Her tone made it crystal clear, if it wasn't already, that this wasn't the case. She gave a pleading look to the boy but he was already gone and the wagon was moving. She and the other now freed slaves were going somewhere, she didn't know where, and she certainly wasn't asking Reagan.