Sweat dripped off Esteban’s chin onto the strange stone that the Fallen had used to build their ruined structures. He lifted his pickaxe again, his grip tight around the wooden shaft, despite the pain from the blisters and scrapes that adorned his leathery hands. He struck the stone column once more, and the crack widened, creaking as it strained to hold its weight.

  “Put your back into it, you lazy swine!” Kris, the Singler in charge of this reclamation job, bellowed. The men groaned as they pummeled the blocked entrance with whatever remained of their strength. They knew they had to get through. They couldn’t go back to the village empty handed. Not if they wanted to be fed.

  Esteban glanced at Kris, his eyes burning with hate. He hated the Valyr and all of those traitorous Bound that worked for them. But he hated that sadist, Kris, most of all. All of the Bound were rotten–how could they not be, when they served the vile invaders who ruled the world? – but Kris seemed to especially enjoy the power he had over the Unbound.

  “You got something to say, rat?” Kris said, taking a step toward Esteban.

  Esteban lowered his head. “No, sir.” He tried to sound meek, but the venom was clear in his voice.

  Smack!

  Kris backhanded him, snapping Esteban’s head to the side. The band around the middle finger carved a shallow wound into his cheek. “Then get back to it!”

  It took another hour before they could get through the rubble. And with the way finally cleared, Kris entered the wrecked shop, and the men followed.

  Esteban gasped at the scene. This must have been a jeweler’s shop before the Fall, as rows of gold bracelets, rings, and necklaces glittered behind the dusty glass displays.

  “Well, boys, it looks like you’re eating tonight!” Kris said, his hands clasped together in excitement.

  The men smashed the glass and loaded the jewelry into their linen sacks. Esteban examined the beautiful items, marveling at the intricate workmanship, well beyond what they could now create with their crude tools.

  Such a waste, he thought, as he threw them into his sack. All of this beauty would be melted then handed to the Valyr.

  Esteban reached into the case and grabbed an unusual looking piece. He looked at it, turning it in his hand. He knew what it was: a watch. That was a device the Fallen had used to tell the time of day, much like a sundial. Nobody knew how they worked anymore. Pretending to be dusting his trousers, he bent down and stuck the watch into his tattered shoes.

  He straightened his back and looked around, and old Ben met his gaze.

  Esteban swallowed. Most of the folks in the small town of Ardan were terrified of the Bound, but Old Ben had a reputation for being a straight arrow, which was a polite way of saying he was a lapdog for the powers that be.

  He smiled and put a finger to his lips. It was pointless, he knew. Ben would turn his own mother in for a mere pat on the back.

  Sure enough, the pitiful man turned to the Bound and whispered something in his ear, his eyes darting to Esteban.

  “That’s enough. We’ll come back tomorrow for the rest,” Kris ordered.

  Esteban slung the heavy sack over his shoulder and headed toward the exit.

  Kris stepped in front of him, planting a heavy hand on his chest.

  “I heard a rumor you’ve been hoarding, rat,” Kris said, an ugly grin spreading across his face. “I hope for your sake it’s just a rumor.”

  “I don’t understand,” Esteban said.

  “Shoes off. Now.”

  Esteban looked at Ben. The old man wouldn’t meet his eyes, staring at the dirt in silence.

  “I said shoes off!” Kris yelled.

  Esteban didn’t bother. He knelt and dug the watch out of his shoe, and held it up to the Singler.

  Kris slammed his fist into Esteban’s stomach with enough force to lift him off the ground, his back crashing into the shop’s low ceiling. He landed on his face, between the Bound’s feet. Bile, streaked with blood, spilled from his lips onto the floor.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Kris might have been only a Singler, but he was still as strong as three men. Esteban groaned and tried to get up.

  The Bound didn’t wait for him to recover. He lashed out with another kick to the chest, sending him smashing into one of the display cases. Kris wasn’t finished. He calmly walked forward and drove his boot into Esteban’s side.

  Crack.

  Ribs snapped with the impact, and Esteban cried out in agony. A third blow came, connecting square in the middle of his chest, unleashing another chorus of crunching bones. He gasped for breath that wouldn’t come.

  Kris towered over him, looking down, the grin gone from his face. “Worthless thief,” the Bound said, clearing his throat, then spitting on the dying man’s face.

  Esteban’s rage burned hotter than any pain, but it could not mend his broken ribs or punctured lungs. He tried to speak, but no words came out. Kris turned around and ordered the others to leave. The room faded, and he began to sink into the quiet dark.

  “No!” his mind screamed. Esteban was not afraid of death. He had already lost everyone he ever cared about. What was left to live for? “No! Not like this! Not while they still draw breath!”

  The world froze, and Esteban found himself standing in an endless void.

  “Esteban, my love. I miss you dearly.” A voice came from behind him. He spun around to see a woman in her thirties smiling warmly.

  “Mother?” His voice cracked and tears welled in his eyes.

  “Come, darling. It is time to let go of the pain.”

  The woman was as beautiful as he remembered. She stood wearing a white gown, her hair rippling in an unfelt breeze. Her eyes held the same kindness that had comforted him as a child, whenever he returned from another senseless fight, his knuckles raw and face bruised. She would hug him and speak softly into his ear, telling him that everything would be okay.

  But things were not okay.

  “Not yet! Not while they live in their gilded towers. Not while their Bound use us like kindling to be burned and discarded.”

  “You cannot win, son.” A man spoke behind him.

  Esteban turned to face his father. He looked young and handsome. Not the broken man he was when he was murdered, after weeks of torture, for supposedly aiding the Resistance.

  “Then I will take as many of them with me as I can!” Esteban yelled, his heart hammering against his ribs.

  A young girl stepped from behind the man. “What for? Don’t you want peace? You earned it, brother.”

  Esteban kneeled and caressed his sister’s cheek. Poor Sofia. She just happened to be home when the men came to arrest her family. She was scared, and she clung to her mom as they tried to drag her out. She was cut down like she was nothing more than a tangling vine blocking their path.

  Tears came in earnest, and Esteban choked back a sob and shook his head. “No, sweet little sister. I don’t want that.”

  “Then what do you want?” Sofia’s lips moved, but it wasn’t her voice. The inhumanly deep voice echoed in the darkness, and Esteban recoiled.

  He closed his eyes, and with a deep steadying breath, he collected himself. “I want them to bleed,” he whispered, a cold stillness settling over his heart. He opened his eyes and screamed into the abyss: “I want them to burn!”

  The girl smiled. Esteban looked up to see his mother and father standing side by side, their faces beaming with pride. Then they unraveled, scattering away like ash in the wind. The world shook, and Esteban’s arms involuntarily spread out to keep his balance. The darkness shattered, and the void around him was swallowed by a maelstrom of writhing white flame. Up above, filling the eye of the storm, hung a ring of pure black, darker than even the absolute darkness he had known a moment before. And he felt its gaze boring through him, stripping away every layer until it reached the hollowed ruins of his soul.

  He fell to his knees, his spirit buckling under the crushing weight of a history older than time. The presence unfurled in his mind, its tendrils breaching all dimensions, seen and unseen, infinite, and beyond comprehension. He held on, trying not to drown in the bottomless ocean of power and knowledge.

  “Who are you?” Esteban’s voice strained.

  A thousand responses erupted around him, as if coming from the fire itself.

  “The keeper of scales!”

  “The final verse!”

  “The eternal claim!”

  “I am the instrument of your desire. Take my hand and your righteous hate shall bear fruit. Or reject me, and let oblivion sweep away your pain.” The fire reverberated with the black ring’s voice, and strands of shadow surged forth, weaving and coiling, before they coalesced in front of Esteban.

  He did not hesitate. He reached in and seized the dark thread.

  Prime Covenant Sealed.

  Esteban screamed as the words burned into the deepest recesses of his being. He fell to the ground, his body fraying under a pain too vast to contain.

  Then it stopped. He opened his eyes, and breath forced its way into his lungs. He was back in the Jeweler’s shop. Only a moment had passed. Kris stood just a few feet away with his back turned.

  Esteban reached for the pickaxe that lay next to him, his fingers locking around its handle. He rose to his feet, and the men let out a collective gasp as the weapon arched overhead. Kris turned around, his eyes going wide, and his mouth opening to speak. The heavy point of the iron shattered through the crown of his skull, the rusted tip bursting through the bottom of his jaw in a spray of blood and bone.

  Esteban pulled the axe out, and the Bound fell to the ground, lifeless. A vapor of pale light rose from the corpse, drawn toward Esteban to vanish into his skin.

  He looked around at the men. They stood frozen, their faces etched with fear. He stepped toward Ben, and the old man fell to his knees.

  “Please!” Ben begged, “Esteban, please, I had no choice. You know how they are. If you were caught, we would’ve all paid the price!”

  They are all complicit! Kill him! Kill them all!

  No!

  Esteban’s gaze lingered on the pathetic figure kneeling in front of him, pleading for his life.

  He’s a victim in all of this, just like the rest of us.

  Esteban bent down and picked up the dropped watch. Then he stepped out into the ruins.