Alo’aharu cast their hammer and chisel back into a box of similar tools, lent to slaves who were used to carve out stone from Veyshtari quarries, for the single fifteen minute break they would get until sundown.

Mining for stone was about the most strenuous work Alo’aharu could’ve been put to without making their labor pointless through tasks like moving a boulder to a different place.

Their form was undoing itself thanks to the debilitating limiters on their ability to absorb mana carved into the collar that made sure there was no mistake about their status.

Alo’aharu sat, absorbing mana from a small siphoning device to repair their body, as a Cyclops twice as tall as them named Barsheen collapsed next to them with a heavy grunt.

Barsheen was a leader among the larger slaves, who were kept separate from the smaller slaves like Alo’aharu. The larger ones carved out blocks from the quarry while Alo’aharu and company chiseled those blocks down into precise shapes. If given the proper tools, the large slaves could wreak havoc in gladiatorial matches.

Alo’aharu was done with the Calliones. They had no more tolerance for their despicable state as a slave.

If they wanted freedom, no one else was going to give it to them. No longer would they be satisfied with concessions. No longer were the mandates of others going to define who they were.

What exactly carrying that resolve out entailed, though, Alo’aharu had yet to fully realize. Their mind operated on the assumption they would try to start a slave rebellion. But they hadn’t quite thought that course of action through.

What would the rebellion amount to? Why now? Who would join the cause? Would the Mandate of Peace consider it a war? If it was, wouldn’t that just make things worse for Nightborn across the continent?

But despite the reasonable protests, their subconscious insisted on winning their freedom now. The Calliones had made it clear. The only way to be free was not by placating them, but by subverting their control of Alo’aharu’s life.

So Alo’aharu had asked to meet with Barsheen to discuss their points of view.

“What did you have to say to me, elemental?” the one-eyed giant grunted.

“I only have a simple request.” Alo’aharu muttered. “I’m going to start a slave revolt. I would like your help.”

The Cyclops furrowed his brow. “Are you mad? A slave revolt is tantamount to war.”

“And?” Alo’aharu asked. “Even humans themselves regret their abolition of conflict. Our lives belong to the Calliones, and without a revolt, we have no chance of a future. Even the opportunities given to us are just thinly veiled attempts to subdue rebellion.”

The Cyclops scoffed. “Were the gold and jewels not enough for you? Typical of an Arcane Elemental. You just want the chance to party until the day you die.”

“This has nothing to do with that ridiculous stereotype.” Alo’aharu hissed. “This isn’t good enough for anyone. We’re treated like animals.”

“We’re fed and clothed and given shelter. That is more than a lot of animals get.”

“How is barely above an animal alright with you?” Alo’aharu asked.

“Because I would rather secure what little I have, than lose all of it for some chance in Irkalla at creature comforts.”

Alo’aharu sighed. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m done absolving myself of the responsibility I have to my freedom. I refuse to leave it in the hands of masters who will always raise their standards to keep us down. Doesn’t that make you angry? Even a little?”

The Cyclops didn’t respond, instead staring out over the quarry.

“Our lives don’t belong to us. We gain nothing by being slaves. We’re just offered privileges that should be rights.” Alo’aharu insisted. “So long as we live under the heel of the Calliones, we have nothing and are nothing.”

“Break’s over!” one of the Callione slave masters shouted. “Get back to work, you filthy curs!”

“Unless we take responsibility for our own freedom, we will condemn future generations of Nightborn to more torture and slavery.”

Barsheen’s giant eye shifted to them. “Future…generations?”

“What else do you think will happen to our children?” Alo’aharu asked.

Barsheen took a moment of contemplation as he stood.

“I will consider your proposal with the others. But know this, elemental, there are lives you are risking here. Every casualty will be your sin to bear.”

Alo’aharu nodded. “I will not justify the sacrifice of others to avoid the work of planning a bloodless rebellion. But I cannot promise that there’ll be no deaths. Though I am prepared to bear the burden of any that occur.”

“Good.”

***

Mattiew stared into the clear blue skies over Veyshtar as he readied himself for the Trial of Conviction. It was common for this Trial to be the most violent, even among all the others.

He had to stop himself from imagining what monstrous horrors lay in wait for him as he waited outside his crew’s barracks.

Mattiew moved his gaze back toward the ground, only for his eyes to land on Khemti at the door of the barracks.

Khemti stared back at him, his eyes cold and dismissive.

“Getting ready for the Trial of Conviction?” Khemti asked.

“Yeah.” Mattiew muttered.

“I’m gathering my troops to head home. Good luck to you.” Khemti said, though if he could, he probably would’ve spat those words.

Khemti didn’t know Mattiew’s circumstances.

“Look, I know you think what I did back in the arena was scummy.” Mattiew said. “I do too. But there’s something I’m fighting for that I can’t let you take from me. If after all this you want to be friends, I would love that. But I don’t have a choice but to keep winning.”

Khemti eyed him. “Do you think you’re the only one?”

Mattiew frowned.

“Do you think you’re the only one who can’t afford to lose?” Khemti asked. “There are thousands who were depending on me to free them from the heel of Alazar’s oppression.”

Mattiew’s brow contorted. “Look. I’m trying my best here, alright? But every decision I make, someone gets hurt. I don’t have any right choices. If you get that, then you shouldn’t be angry at me.”

“I’m not angry at you. I’m just-”

“Disappointed, yeah. What’s the damn difference?” Mattiew growled.

Khemti took a deep breath. “The difference is that I forgive you for slighting me. I don’t care about that. I’m disappointed that you keep looking for a ‘right’ answer where there is none.”

“Then what in Irkalla do you want me to do, Sett?” Mattiew asked. 

“It’s not my problem. My only focus is consoling the thousands that had their hopes stolen away from you.” Khemti muttered.

“Guilt tripping me?” Mattiew clenched his fists. “That’s worse than what I did. You are mad. You just won’t admit it.”

“Fine. I’m a tad bitter. So what? That doesn’t change what you’ve done.”

“Stop talking to me like I murdered someone!”

“Why?” Khemti shouted. “You’ve basically killed at least a hundred!”

“I did what I had to!” Mattiew snarled.

“At the cost of your honor!”

“Fuck your honor! Fuck you! I don’t have time for that shit! You don’t know me!”

“Yeah?” Khemti growled. “Well, I know that you’re just afraid. You’re a scared little man cowering before those mightier than you.”

“And what?” Mattiew asked. “I’m sorry I’m not a noble. I’m sorry I wasn’t born a sorcerer! I’m just a goddamned man! I didn’t ask for this!”

“No one asks for their lot in life. But we either have to accept it or despair at our own helplessness.”

Mattiew couldn’t hold back. He socked Khemti right in the nose. The sorcerer stumbled back, stunned.

Mattiew glared at him. “You think that because you’re self-loathing enough to shoulder the weight and responsibility of everyone who follows you, you’re better than everyone else. You’re a fool prancing around like a hero. You only do what you think is best for people. A leader believes in their people. You treat them like children. You’re no king.”

“Even if that is true, it does not excuse you from taking responsibility for your own actions and choices.” Khemti rubbed his nose as his general, Kanika, stepped out of the barracks. “The others are awaiting you on the docks, Kanika. Let’s go.”

Without so much as an acknowledgement of his existence, Khemti left with his general.

Mattiew wanted to shout at him, to punch him in the face again for guilt tripping him.

“Fuck that guy.”

Mattiew glanced to his left and found Dreya in the doorway.

“Don’t pay any attention to those sad sacks. They’re bitter they lost and want you to feel bad.” she said. “Rich kids born into nobility who don’t know how to take a hit from a commoner.”

Mattiew sighed, “Thanks.”

“We’re ready for the trial whenever you are, captain.” Dreya grinned. “Lead us to victory.”

Mattiew glared in the direction Khemti had left. “I won’t disappoint.”

***

“Alo’aharu.”

The elemental’s eyes snapped open in the darkness of their cell.

The flickering torch light illuminated the wrinkled, sneering face of Andar Callione.

“How was your first day at work, Alo’aharu?” Andar asked.

Alo’aharu did not answer.

“That bad, eh?” Andar grinned. “Well, I’ve realized that perhaps I should be a bit more lenient with you. You are a hard worker, after all. I release you from your punishment. You’re needed in the Trial of Conviction.”

The faint blue lines across Alo’aharu’s skin flared with joy at hearing those words. But the new voice in their consciousness subdued it.

They looked at a handmaid behind Andar. She held two golden bracers.

Their old shackles.

“I’m serious, Alo’aharu.” Andar said as a guardsman opened the cell door. “I’m letting you out. The maid will get you cleaned up and dressed properly. I’ve got a mana siphon for you to feed on. You’ll be back where you belong.”

Alo’aharu stood and took a few steps towards the door.

Back where they belong…

Where did they belong?

According to Andar, at the heels of the Calliones. A gold adorned pet.

Alo’aharu looked down as the handmaid offered them the bracers. They could get it all back. Everything they had before. Everything they wanted.

It all comes attached with a leash.

They belonged among Nightborn. Even if those Nightborn were slaves.

Alo’aharu reached out and closed the door of their own cell before turning their back and retreating into the darkness.

“You intend to defy me a second time?” Andar roared.

Alo’aharu’s body felt like it was all dissolving with brilliant explosive bursts, like a firecracker. All the mana in their body ran cold.

Andar smacked his cane against the bars. “I’ll have your head, you cloud of filth! Stay in there, then! Once we get back to Rosalia, I’m going to finally put you down.”

Andar stomped off to the best of his ability, guardsman and handmaid in tow.

Alo’aharu let out a quivering ripple of energy, akin to a sigh.

What had they done? This again? Why were they-

“Hail the Defiant! Alo’aharu, the Defiant!” the nymph to their right shouted.

The other slaves stared at both Alo’aharu and the siren with a mixture of emotion.

The elemental’s insides roiled like a storming sea of mana. They felt sick. Yet...their defiance felt right.

“To resist Andar Callione to his face. Twice...” Zakiti muttered from her cell.

“You’re a fool.” Ukhaua snorted.

“No. No, they are not a fool.” Zakiti said. “That must’ve been very difficult for you to do, Alo’aharu.”

They sighed. “I just hope it was the right thing to do. There’s no going back for me.”

“Then, are you ready to change your fate?” Zakiti asked.

“It looks like I’ll have to.” Alo’aharu muttered. “Whether or not I’m ready.”