“Connor!” Rhiannon called excitedly as she stood on the platform with their peers, waiting for the train to take them to the Academy. Upon hearing his name, his head tilted up and his eyes scanned the crowd of teenagers for the familiar blonde owner of the voice. When his brown eyes found her blue ones, they lit up. And admittedly, so did her’s. He made his way through the crowd to meet her. When he finally found his way to her side, he opened his mouth to greet her but his sentence was cut off by three short trills of beeping. Injection time. He felt a twinge of annoyance but he masked it. The couple along with everyone else, opened their Injection Cases and performed their daily rituals. As per usual, both Rhiannon and Connor were unaffected by the drug. With a click of a closed injection case, he turned back to Rhiannon.
“So, did you read it?” he whispered—despite the excited grin on his face. She hit is arm lightly, a scolding look on her face.

“Not here, Con,” she whispered—glancing back at all the adolescents around them, “But yes. I did.”

She looked up at the older boy, her grin just as big as his. Just then, the shiny silver train pulled into the station and opened its doors. The ambient chatter of the group of teenagers was the symphony that they listened to as they all filed into the train. Connor and Rhiannon walked in, side to side, successful in finding an empty compartment all for themselves. Like a gentleman, he let her go first and then pressed a button that made the compartment door slide behind him. The young woman sat down on the soft seats but never took her eyes off Connor. A knowing smile played on her lips. She knew that he was probably still bursting from excitement; to discover her opinion on the book, his book. He turned around and she spoke immediately.

“I loved it,” she said—finally, “I love how color started coming into his world. And I adored Jonas’ love for Gabriel. I almost couldn’t put it down.”
Connor gave a chuckle. She was like a child, eyes wide open and a bright light sparkling from her very soul.

“I’m glad you liked it. It’s one of my favorites.”

“Your favorite, hu?” she paused for a moment, “Are you gonna tell me where you got it?” Her bright bubbly demeanor faded into seriousness, her intelligence outshining her new found excitement. “I know that this book isn’t in the Approved Literature Index. I checked.”
A tense silence filled the air around them as Connor contemplated whether or not he should tell her where he acquired the book from. He avoided her gaze, looking at the ground; putting his hands together, a sign of anxiousness. His eyes looked her over, his eyes lingering on her blue ones and on her lips. Finally, he decided that she could be trusted.

“I…I got this book from my parents.”

Connor let out a shout that could’ve resembled a roar as he brought up his leg in an attempt to strike his opponent. However, all the young man hit was air.
“Ha! You’re gonna have to try a little harder if you’re gonna hit me. You’re too slow," his partner taunted--a smirk playing on her face. Her brunette locks were tied up in a tight ponytail and she skillfully stayed on the balls of her feet, her arms raised up. Still, despite the tenseness of their balled fists, there was a familiar fondness between the two. Probably the result of many years of friendship. Connor just smiled at her taunts. He knew how to keep his head.
"Don't worry about me, Maya. I'm defnitely not gonna lose."
"Mhm. Sure you won't."
For a few moments, they just circled each other, using their eyes to size the other up. They assessed each other, their respective opponent's weaknesses noting their strength. Maya made the first move. She let out a yell, rushing toward him, releasing a series of quick punches. Connor felt the breeze generated from her swings but not one touched him. With every punch he dodged, she felt his frustration grow. Connor didn’t have time to be smug. The young man grimaced as he brought up a leg to kick her side. Maya sidestepped quickly before getting her legs knocked out from under her by a quick sweet of his leg. He didn’t even give a moment to smirk before getting on one knee and putting his fist just hovering above her face. Now, he could smirk. Maya scowled. He got up and held a hand out for her.
“Told you.”
“You suck,” she said before slapping his hand away and getting up.
Connor’s lips upturned in a smile. She had always been a sore loser.
“Hey, don’t feel bad. I’ve been doing this longer,” he said.
“Yeah whatever,” she replied—right before punching his arm semi-softly. He let out a soft laugh.
“So, tell me about this girl you want to bring into the fold again?” she told him as she started to walk off the training mat. He did the same, smiling softly.
“Her name’s Rhiannon.”
He tried to imagine his safe place. He tried to imagine gold hair and crystal blue eyes. He tried to imagine her soft lips, her hands touching his. He tried to imagine his safe place; her. He shut his eyes as he laid on the floor, fresh from a beating. They’ve been trying to get information from him; information on the Refigratio, their inner workings. However, when Connor spat, “Over my head body,” the soldier tasked with torturing him for information was less than pleased. They young man stayed with his face on the floor, his entire body aching. Every cell in his body was groaning. The pain he felt wasn’t a sting, unless he moved, but more like a throbbing, steady, beat of physical suffering. It was dull but he was sure that if he kept enduing the same dull pain, he would die here. A dull knife is still a knife, he told himself. He shook his head a little. No. He couldn’t think that way. He had to survive, he had to get out of here alive. Eventually, he slowly and excruciatingly turned himself over so that he was looking up at the drab grey steel ceiling—trying not to groan in pain. He didn’t want them hearing that they’d succeeded in causing him pain. His stubbornness was something he got from his parents. Once facing the ceiling, he glanced around at the steel walls that slightly reflected his own image. Connor could only come up with one thought when he saw himself…
”I look like hell,” he said to an audience of none.
Still, he breathed in and exhaled—ignoring the pain in his chest. He let his brown eyes close and his thoughts went to Rhiannon again. He hoped she was alive. He hoped that she was safe, still fighting the good fight. He hoped that he would see her again. He felt sleep pull and coax his consciousness into the recesses of darkness and his last thought before entering the comforting abyss of dreams was of her; his blonde spitfire. Before he could let himself slip away completely, he mumbled something. The woman in charge of keeping watch of the security feed didn’t catch it but she wouldn’t have been able to understand the phrase even if she had. The soldier crumpled her eye brows together and stared at the screen confused. She wasn’t sure but he could have mumbled…
I love you…

Rhiannon sat in the metal chair, bored, staring at the silver door, as if that would make something happen; as if that would cause it to slide open. In the meantime, she counted her breaths. They were deep and calm. If they hadn’t give injected her with some sedative beforehand, she would have been much more alert but until it wore off, she was left to feel as if she was floating in limbo. The blonde was sure that if she had been administered even a tablespoon more of the drug, she probably wouldn’t be awake to stare at the door. Finally, her boredom was broken and the metal door slid open. The guard walked in first, followed by her father. Her father had an angry red scratch running from his cheekbone to the bottom of his jaw; a little something that she had given to him his last visit. She openly smirked. Was it wrong to feel proud of her handy work? Or was it more wrong to not care if it was? Her blue eyes glanced to the guard.

“You’re getting smarter, Father.”

Her tone was mocking and when she said “Father” it couldn’t have been less affectionate. His face stayed serious as he approached the chair across from her and the guard stayed near the door, standing watch.

“What? Have you nothing to say? You’re disappointing me.”

He still didn’t react to her taunts, he was too smart for that. Still, she didn’t mind. It felt good to taunt him, even if he didn’t react.

“You’re going to help us, Rhiannon,” he said—his voice firm and final.

“Am I now?”

“Yes, you are.”

Christopher waved his hand and the soldier rushed forward, a black bag in hand. Rhiannon tried to get up from her chair and a protest was in her throat but the drugs kept her from moving too fast. Then, the bag was pulled over her head and all she could see was darkness.

The light burned when they finally took the black bag off her. It but it was the first time her blue eyes had seen natural light in two and a half years. For that, she would endure the pain. Soldiers were on both sides of her, still as stone. She was on a balcony, she could tell that much. She could also tell that the soldiers were to keep her from escaping. The drugs had worn off, for the most part. However, there was a bit of grogginess, unease, that she just couldn’t shake. She could see the crowd below, the hundreds of citizens gathered in front of a raised platform. Christopher walked onto the platform and her chest tightened at the very sight of him, her hands balling up into fists. A microphone is waiting for him and he scans the crowd before addressing them.

“Faithful citizens of Salutarius, I’m sure that if I said that I have been a merciful and kind leader, you would all agree with me. I have extended a hand of grace to every single citizen of our society, including those who would like to see our peaceful way of living destroyed and obliterated. I have tried to give the Refragatio an ample amount of chances to turn back from their chaos and realize the error of their ways. I have offered them a life better lived but they swatted away my extended hand and they continue to resist. It seems I have been too soft as a leader and, for that, I apologize; to you the citizens that have never forsaken me or the government that supports us. For they have become violent creatures and have disturbed our peaceful utopia. They threaten to destroy our unity, our very state of being. So now, I must be more forceful. Let this be a lesson to all of those out there who dare defy the order. Let this be a lesson to those who continue to threaten the innocent people of Salutarius."

With that, he looked off to the side and he nodded, raising a hand as if to introduce someone. A young woman was forced onto the platform, literally kicking and screaming. She was being forced on by not two, but three guards. Her hair whipped around as she yelled, as wild as her very soul.

“LET ME GO! NO! NO!”

Rhiannon’s eyes widen as she recognizes the woman and she whispers a “no” along with her. She could recognize that wild, untamable soul anywhere; Maya. Suddenly, she realized that this was not simply a speech giving ceremony made to fuel the President’s ego and propaganda; this was an execution. She rushes to the edge of the balcony, only to be stopped by a naked-to-the-eye barrier. Her protests have no problem rushing out of her throat and but her screams are kept from the rest of the crowd by the force field.

Maya is finally onto the platform, her face distorted in pain as they tie a noose around her neck. She is no longer fighting them but as if in a state of acceptance. She can’t fight, nor can she out think herself out of this situation. Still, she has in no way surrendered. She glances at the ground for a moment before looking out and yelling once more as they finish tying her necklace of rope. Rhiannon’s throat starts to feel sore from screaming but she doesn’t care. Her fists start to pound on the barrier, every punch and hit stronger and more passionate than the last. Her friend can’t die.

“CONTINUE FIGHTING, MY BROTHERS AND SISTERS IN ARMS! Never give in. My soul, my heart, I love yo—“

Her last sentence was cut off due to death. With one push, her voice was snuffed and reduced to a gargle of pain and agony and Rhiannon was frozen in shock. For a moment, it was if all of time had come to a standstill. Her pounding stopped, and no noise came from her. In fact, she felt like the whole world had gone silent, as if the whole universe was mourning for that one individual. She wouldn’t blame the universe if it was. Tears began pooling in her eyes as the silent start of an agonizing sob built up in her chest. Her friend was dead. Her friend was dead. Maya is dead. That’s the only sentence her brain could formulate. For a moment, her father’s eyes glanced to her and even though they were separated by a sea of people, his message was all too clear. They killed her friend, and they won’t be opposed to killing Connor either. Then, the all too familiar feeling of having a needle stuck into her neck was registered in her mind. Her eyes widened before she fell to her knees. The last thing she saw before she collapsed was Maya’s body swaying, lifeless and dead. For a second, she wondered about the crowd. Was this the first time they’ve seen a body? Violence? Then, she realized…she didn’t care. She didn’t care about the crowd, the people.
She hated them.

“I’ll do it,” she paused—as if unable to comprehend that she was saying those words,” I’ll be your spy. I’ll do whatever you want. Just…Just don’t kill him. Okay?”

She looked up at President Christopher, looking just as she felt; defeated. All the President could think of was how happy he that she was finally complying. He stood over her, silent for a moment. His silence made her uneasy. So, she repeated the sentence.

“Just don’t kill him.”

He nodded, giving a small smile.

“I am a man of my word, Rhiannon. I won’t kill him. Just do what you need to do, what we want you to do, and he’ll be safe. You will be assimilated into society again soon. We’ll talk before then to brief you; make you as prepared as possible.”

With that, he seemed to think that their deal was done and he started to walk to the interrogation room door.

“Wait,” she said—and he listened, “Can I talk to him? Before you send me off? Or…could you tell him something for me?”

He let a silence hang in the air before responding.

“Alright. What would you like to say to him?”

“Can you tell him that I’m sorry? Tell him that I can’t be the hero that he always wanted me to be; the hero that he is…I’m not a hero. I’m choosing him, over the cause, over everything that we’ve worked and fought for. Tell him I’m sorry for that and that if there was any other way to save him…I would do it. But there isn’t. I have no other choice,” the blonde told her father—her gaze was far far away and her eyes glazed over, “Tell him—Tell him that I love him.”

Christopher nodded and he slipped out of the Interrogation Room. A scientist was waiting for him, clip board in her hands and her lab coat as white and pristine as Rhiannon’s prison outfit.



“Did it work Mr. President?”

“Yes, Ms. Eliot. It worked perfectly. She’s agreed to cooperate fully and there’s no doubt it’s due to what she saw from your Simulation Room. We have her right where we want her. I’m very proud of you.”

She smiled. “Thank you, Mr. President. It’s such an honor.”



Connor groaned in pain, trying to keep from being too loud. He was on the ground, at the feet of the great President. Christopher is almost amused. Almost. Truth be told, the man doesn’t feel much of anything. He sighed, almost peacefully, looking down on the poor prisoner. He liked to think that he was better than reveling in the pain of prisoners. He did care about people after all.

“She never—She never told me you were her father. She told me that you were an elitist. But she didn’t say anything about being the President’s daughter. I never imagined--”

“—Oh, I know. The President’s family is never out in the public. For their safety. To protect them from people like you; people who might want to hurt them. You couldn’t have known,” he paused, “Well…that’s not true. She could’ve told you. But then again, there were probably a lot of things that you didn’t tell each other. Does she even know your rank?” he took another pause,” ...You know I talk to her? The way she talks about you…She talks about you as if you are a delicate flower that needs protecting. She must think that you are a simple foot soldier but we both know that isn’t true. But I can’t blame my daughter. You’re young, barely twenty. You’re not old enough to understand the complexity of this world, but I guess that’s what makes you so dangerous. No one expects you. Connor Dean: one of the highest ranked rebels. You were born for this.”

“I was born to lead.”

"Born to fail."
"Destined for freedom. A fate that when woven will show the destruction of the world you dictate. And you can't stand that your daughter would have been a queen in a new world not molded by you. That she is free.”
"Eloquent, even for me. However, that doesn’t change the facts; you lied to her."
"I omitted a truth to protect her, because I love her. Not that I expect you to understand what that word means. You lied to her for her entire life to keep her oppressed and when I showed her that she didn't have to be a prisoner, she broke her chains gladly and willingly."

“You can’t have her!” he yelled and got up from his chair so that he towered over Connor—a rare moment of anger overcoming him.

Connor looked up, his eyes hard as stone and not at all frightened.

“She was never yours to keep,” he said calmly, “Rhiannon chose to become part of my army. She chose to fight for freedom. She chose to defy you…You don’t own her and neither do I. She merely lets me stand in the light of her glory.”

A tense silence settles and neither one of them make a move to break it for a long time. They don’t break eye contact either.

“She will betray you, and your cause.”

“Never,” he replies immediately, “She’s a soldier in my army. She knows exactly what she’s fighting for and why. She would never go back to the haze. She would never turn her back on us.”

“She would. For you. Would you like the proof?”
Connor’s previous almost emotionless expression broke and his eyebrows crumpled together. Confusion and anxiousness was etched on to his face. Christopher pulled a video recorder from his suit pocket and pressed the play button. Her, sweet, beautiful voice came from the device and he suddenly realized the he had almost forgotten the sound of her voice; that terrified him.

“Can you tell him that I’m sorry? Tell him that I can’t be the hero that he always wanted me to be; the hero that he is…I’m not a hero. I’m choosing him, over the cause, over everything that we’ve worked and fought for. Over the one thing that his family died for. Tell him I’m sorry for that and that if there was any other way to save him…I would do it. But there isn’t. I have no other choice,” her voice said.
Although, her voice would always be sweet as honey to his ears…everything she said, broke his heart. His tough façade dropped and he was nothing but a broken man. Tears pooled in his eyes and he felt like the pain of torture would have been more merciful than this. He looked up at the other man, eyes pleading and voice begging.

“No. No. Don’t. Please. T-Tell her—“

“---I will tell her nothing. She will do as she is told and once she’s completed her task, I will eliminate you. Then, she will join you shortly after. You think I know nothing of love. You think I do not understand. But you are wrong, boy. I know what love is. I know that I love my citizens enough to do whatever it takes to keep threats such as yourself at bay. I know I love my daughter enough to not let her continue on the path of disillusionment--”

“--So, you would rather kill her?!”

“Yes. I would. I would rather she be dead than fighting on the wrong side.”

For a moment, Connor was silenced. He looked up in awe. Sometimes, you weren’t put in awe by amazing wonderful things. Sometimes, just sometimes, you were put in awe by the horrifying things of the world; things you wish weren’t real…

“You make us out to be the monsters, the villains. But the biggest monster here isn’t me. It’s you.”