Hello there. If you didn’t read the blurb, this is a collection of side stories for Gifted/Cursed. You really need to have read those to understand them, so if you haven’t/have no plans to then feel free to close this and never look at it again, no hard feelings. Anyway, I write a lot of side stories, most of which are unfinished, but these are the ones that I have deemed worth sharing. They’re usually stories from the characters’ pasts, some of which may have been alluded to in Gifted/Cursed and some that have not. Anyway, I hope they provide some insight.

2: Small Town Life

Janelle woke early that morning, feeling more nervous than she ever had before. After all, Assessment Day had come and gone and it was now the year where she turned six. This meant she was finally old enough to attend the makeshift village school. Her heart racing, she jumped out of bed, careful not to wake her grandmother as she raced into the main room of the house. The room was a mixture of a kitchen, dining and living room all rolled into one. Her father John was standing in the kitchen area, already in his mining uniform as he sipped a cup of water. He smiled when he saw her, putting his cup on the table. He crouched down and held his arms out, beckoning her to him.

“Morning Ella,” he said as Janelle ran over and jumped into his arms.

“Hi Daddy,” she chirped as he whirled her around. “Guess what? Today I get’ta go to school.”

“I know you do,” he said, smiling as he ruffled her hair. “When I get home you’ll have to tell me all about it, okay?”

Janelle nodded, her red curls bouncing on her shoulders as she did so. She fidgeted, running her thumb over her lip.

“But… Daddy…” she began, shifting her feet. John frowned, kneeling down beside her so their eyes were level.

“What’s wrong, Ella?” he asked.

“It’s just…” she said, her stomach swooping uncomfortably. “I wanna go, but – what if nobody likes me?”

Her father laughed, shaking his head. “Of course they’ll like you, honey. You worry too much. You’re the new girl so it’ll seem scary at first but you’ll make lots of friends, I promise.”

“Okay,” Janelle mumbled. She fiddled with a strand of her hair while John stood up and started work in the kitchen. He took a large knife and started cutting a fresh loaf of bread. They had received their rations for the next fortnight just yesterday, so their cupboards were almost full.

“What’re you doing?” she asked, edging closer and clinging to his trouser leg.

“I’m making lunch,” he said, his light blue eyes narrowed in concentration. “For all of us. Mum and Gran’ll be busy making rugs so they need something too. Do you wanna help?”

Janelle nodded, so he put down the knife and lifted her onto the bench. She sat there while he made sandwiches, nibbling on a piece of bread and snaffling whatever tidbits John gave her.

“Good morning.” Janelle’s mother Amy entered the room just as John finished the last sandwich. She smiled and made her way over to her husband and daughter.

“Look Mummy, I made lunch,” said Janelle proudly, gesturing at the sandwiches.

Amy smiled and hugged her daughter, but her forehead was creased slightly. “Thanks, honey, they look great. Did Dad help you?”

“Yeah, he helped,” she said, grinning sheepishly since she knew he was the one who’d actually done all the work. However, Amy didn’t notice her daughter’s guilt and instead tugged on John’s sleeve, her eyebrows knotted.

“That’s a lot of food for one meal,” she said in a low voice. “John, those rations have to last us for the next two weeks.”

“I know,” he said, kissing her on the cheek. “But since it’s Ella’s first day of school I thought we should all celebrate. Tomorrow will be back to normal, I promise.”

Amy nodded, biting her lip as John lifted their daughter off the bench and placed her on the ground.

“I’d better go, anyway,” he said, glancing at the window. “Everyone else is starting to leave.”

“Be careful,” said Amy, hugging him tightly. “I… Frida heard the mine over on the other side of the mountains had a collapse yesterday.”

“I know,” said John grimly. “I heard the Gifted talking about it when we were heading home. Apparently twenty guys died down there. But we’ll be okay, Amy. Our mine hasn’t had a collapse in years.”

Hr mother did not look reassured in the slightest, but she let him kiss her goodbye, hug Janelle, take his lunch and leave their home for the day.

“So… When will Daddy be back?” asked Janelle tentatively as he closed the front door.

Amy didn’t answer right away. “Not ‘til night-time,” she said eventually, folding her arms tightly across her chest. “Just like always, so don’t worry. Besides, now we’ve got to do something really important, don’t we? We’ve got to get you all ready for school.”

Together they went back into Janelle and her grandmother’s bedroom and picked out a neat, new brown dress for her to wear on her first day.  When she was dressed, Amy spent the good part of an hour trying to tame her curls into two plaits. She succeeded valiantly and secured the plaits with pale green ribbons John had found at the market a few months earlier. The ribbons were Janelle’s favourite possessions. The rest of her clothes were plain colours, like brown, grey and white, same as the rest of the villagers. The bit of colour provided by the ribbons made them special.

“Okay, I’m ready,” Janelle announced as her mother tied the second ribbon. “Mummy, let’s go.”

“There’s no point going yet,” said Amy distractedly as she poured a cup of water to take to Janelle’s grandmother, who had a habit of sleeping late. “We’ll just be early. Listen, we’ll go in twenty minutes or so, okay? Just sit tight for a bit, Ella.”

“Fine,” Janelle mumbled, but she glanced at the front door wistfully as her mother went into her grandmother’s bedroom.

Does Mummy really have to come? All the other kids’ll be alone…

Janelle fidgeted, glancing at the front door again, longing to open it and be on her way. She didn’t want Amy to come along at all, really. If she brought her mother to school the other children would think she was a baby.

I’ll just go. Mummy knows where I’ll be, it’s fine.

Her mind made up, Janelle hurried over to the door and stood on her tiptoes to reach the handle. She opened it and stepped outside, careful to close it quietly. It was the day after Assessment Day so the snow was thick on the ground, but once she was on the main road Janelle found it quite easy to walk through the streets as the miners had already trampled through. Grinning to herself, she skipped along the road, her heart racing with the anticipation of it all.

See, I did it! Now all I gotta do is find the school.

It only took a few minutes for Janelle to realise there was a fundamental flaw in her plan. She had no idea where the school was found. She knew it was taught by an older lady and held in her house, but she didn’t have the slightest clue where that was. Janelle stopped in the middle of the road, wondering if she should turn around and hope her mother hadn’t noticed she’d left already. However, before she gave up and did just that, she spotted another child in the distance.

“Hey!” she called, running towards them. The child, a boy, turned around as she approached. He was a year or so older than her, with straight blonde hair and deep blue eyes. His skin was pale and freckles covered his nose and cheeks. A thin cut lined his chin, crusted over with a dark scab. He stood at the gate of a small house, his fingers resting on the fence line.

“Um…” she stammered when she reached him, her cheeks turning as red as her hair. She’d never spoken to a boy like this before. “I – d’you know how’ta get to school? I…”

He shrugged, closing the gate and trudging through the snow. “Yeah, I’ll show you. You startin’ this year?”

She nodded vigorously, hitching her bag onto her shoulder and scurrying after him.

“What’s your name?” she asked breathlessly.

The boy glanced over at her. “It’s –“

“Alex!”

The boy cringed, picking up his pace as a woman stumbled down the steps from his house. She was blonde like him, her cheeks flushed and her clothing crumpled. She glared at the two of them, her yellowing teeth showing as she opened her mouth to shout at them.

“What’re ya doing? I need ya’teh stay here an’-“

“This way,” the boy said abruptly, grabbing Janelle’s arm and yanking her around the corner as the gate swung open and the women staggered onto the street. He ducked into a side alley and pressed himself against the wall. Janelle did the same, although she didn’t understand what was going on.

Was that his mum? Must’ve been. Why did she want him to stay home? He’s a kid, he’s s’posed to go to school…

The boy kept a trained eye on the main road before them, watching as the woman stumbled across the entrance of the alley, muttering under her breath as she went. When she was out of side the boy relaxed, picking up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he said as they set off down the alleyway. Janelle blushed, shaking her head so her plaits bounced over her shoulders.

“N – No… It’s no trouble, honest,” she said, hurrying after him. “I… Was that your mum?”

The boy gave a small nod, fingering the cut on his chin. “Yeah.”

He stared straight ahead as they walked through the streets. Janelle hurried after him, glancing up at him every few seconds, desperate to find something to say.

“I - I’m Janelle,” she blurted out. “What’s your name?”

“Alexander,” he said, mouthing each syllable of the long word carefully. “You can call me Alex but. My friends call me Alex.”

I’m his friend… She felt herself turn even redder. “I – you can call me – Mum and Dad call me Ella sometimes, but… You don’t have to call me that, you can –“

“Jan?” he suggested, tilting his head slightly to the side as he looked at her. “What ‘bout that?”

“Sure!” she said breathlessly, her lips stretching into a wide grin. “I… I like it. Jan. That’s good.”

He gave her a small smile which sent her heart into a flutter. She followed him eagerly as they trudged through the streets. All too soon, Alex stopped outside of a shabby-looking house, glancing back at her and pointing.

“School’s here,” he said, sliding his hands into his pockets. “That old lady Shelley teaches us. D’you know her?”

“Think so,” said Janelle, staring up at the big wooden door as they made their way up the front steps. “Um… Thanks, Alex, for showin’ me. You’re great.”

He shrugged, pushing the front door open. “It’s no trouble.”

He went inside quickly, Janelle hurrying after him. It was an ordinary house with a kitchen and dining table on one side. On the other side of the room, there was a fireplace and a single armchair turned so its back faced the wall. There were about twenty other children chatting loudly. A tall, gangly red-haired boy wearing gloves stood slightly separate from a much larger group of nine boys, who were clustered around the armchair and laughing as they teased an older blonde girl. The rest of the girls stood in groups of two or three, scattered throughout the room. There were a few mothers mingling about, which made Janelle feel especially guilty about slipping her own mother earlier. Shaking her head to distract herself, she glanced around the room, wondering what to do. She turned to Alex to ask him, but he dashed off quickly towards the group of boys before she could say a word.

“Wait!” she called, hurrying after him. Alex did not react, but some of the boys turned around and sniggered at her. She blushed, turning around and shuffling away. She glanced around at the girl groups hopefully, but none of them paid any attention to her. Janelle swallowed, trying to stop the tears prickling in her eyes.

They’re all older and cooler than me… How am I s’posed to make friends?

“The old lady asked me t’give you this.”

Janelle turned around quickly as a small girl thrust a book into her arms. She was easily the shortest child in the room, with her striking, thick black hair styled into a neat bob. Janelle breathed a sigh of relief.

Finally someone I know.

 “Hi S’mantha,” said Janelle as she took the book, smiling tentatively. Samantha looked up at her, her stark grey eyes almost covered by her fringe.

“Who’re you?” she said, frowning. Janelle blinked, taking a step closer to the other girl.

“I… We’re friends, aren’t we?” she asked, frowning. “I see you all the time. I – Mummy and me visit your mum heaps.”

“Yeah, but we don’t talk ever,” said Samantha, turning and walking away. Janelle watched her go, slightly confused.

“Wait,” she called, hurrying after her. “What’s wrong? I didn’t –“

“Hey Janelle.” She jumped at the sound of her name, looking up to see Samantha’s mother standing next to her. Janelle smiled, glad that this time a familiar face had actually recognised her too.

“Hi Miss Michelle,” she said, fiddling with one of her plaits.

“Excited for your first day?” she asked, tilting her head slightly so her long, vibrant red hair fell over her shoulders. “Amy – I mean, your mother – told me you’ve been talking about it for months.”

She paused, frowning and peering around the room. “Where is she, anyway?”

“Er…” Janelle began sheepishly, holding her hands behind her back. “I – I left without her. I – I wanted to go by myself, ‘cos – I thought all the others would, but – lots didn’t. D’you think she’s all worried?”

Michelle smiled, her blue eyes shining in the morning light. “She might be a bit worried, but it’s alright. Tell you what, I’ll go ‘round to your house after this and tell her you made it here safely. How’s that sound?”

Janelle nodded. “I – okay. Thanks heaps.”

“No problem,” said Michelle. “I’ll –“

Before she could finish her sentence, the door burst open and Amy stepped inside, scanning the room anxiously until she spotted her daughter.

“Janelle,” said Amy, rushing over to her and sighing with relief. She swept her daughter into her arms, hugging her so tightly she could barely breathe. A few of the other children looked on curiously, some sniggering.

“You mustn’t run off like that again,” said her mother, her voice trembling. “Anything could have happened. What if you’d gotten lost and ended up in the river?”

“I’m fine, Mummy – Mum,” she said quickly, blushing and hoping none of the other children heard her saying such an embarrassing word. “I – I got here okay.”

Her mother sniffed and released her, but her hands still resting on Janelle’s shoulders. “Well you wait for me here before you come home, alright? I don’t want you walking to or from school ‘til I’m sure you know the route properly. Okay?”

“Okay,” Janelle mumbled, wriggling away. “I get it.”

Her mother smiled, kissing her on the forehead. “Good. I’ll stop embarrassing you now then, huh?”

“That’d be nice.”

Amy laughed, raising her eyebrows at Michelle, who shrugged.

“Don’t look at me,” she said, grinning and holding up her hands. “Sam says a lot worse than that, trust me. She swears I’m a horrible mother and threatens to run away at least twice a week.”

Janelle giggled nervously, unsure if she was joking or not. She glanced at Samantha, who stood a few feet away. She was frowning at her mother, which made Janelle wonder if she’d heard their conversation. She watched as the other girl trotted over, tucking a strand of her dark hair behind her ears.

“Mum?” said Samantha when she reached them, tugging on Michelle’s skirt.

“Hey Sam,” said Michelle, smiling down at her. “What’s up?”

“Nothin’,” she said, eying Janelle and Amy cautiously. “I just wanna say goodbye.”

“Hello Samantha,” said Amy, her lips stretched into a large smile, so large it seemed insincere. Her mother always acted oddly around Samantha, Janelle thought. She was never unkind to the girl, but she was cautious.

“Hello Mrs Amy,” said Samantha, shifting her feet as though she sensed Amy’s reluctance. Clearing her throat, Michelle stepped forward so she stood between the two of them.

“Why are you really here, Sam?” she asked, kneeling beside her daughter.

Samantha shrugged, her grey eyes darting between her mother and Janelle. She stood on her toes and started to whisper in her Michelle’s ear. “I wanna go home,” she said, still glancing warily at Janelle as though she didn’t want her to know.

“What’s wrong now, Sam?” Michelle said loudly, ruining Samantha’s attempt at secrecy. “This is the third time this morning.”

Samantha shifted her feet. “They stared at me.”

Her mother sighed. “Who, the other kids? Of course they stared at you. You’re the new girl, they want to make friends.”

The girl shook her head, stroking her lip with her thumb. “Don’t think so.”

“Mum!”

Janelle looked up as a tall, gangly red-haired boy strode over to them. His skin was pale and pinched and he fiddled with the gloves at the end of his arms. Janelle watched him curiously, trying to remember if she had ever seen him before. She knew the faces of everyone in the village, although she often forgot names. For him, she knew neither.

“She’ll be okay,” he said, grabbing the dark-haired girl’s hand. “Don’t worry, Mum. I’ll look after her.”

“Thanks Tom,” Michelle said, standing up and hugging the boy tightly. “Alright, I’m going now, but – you stay here until I come to pick you up, alright? I… You know I don’t want you – or Sam – wandering the streets by yourself.”

“I know, Mum,” the boy muttered, fiddling with the edge of his gloves. “I’ve been to school before.”

“I know, but – you know how your sister is, she’s bound to barge out through those doors the second she knows she can.”

“No I won’t,” said Samantha, biting the skin on her thumb. Tom grinned, reaching out and ruffling her hair while she protested.

“Yes you will,” he said, taking her hand again. “Now come on, Shelley likes us to be standing ready by the chair. See you later, Mum.”

He waved goodbye and turned around, dragging Samantha along behind him as he made his way over to the crowd of other children. Michelle watched them go before bidding goodbye to Amy and Janelle and hurrying from the schoolhouse.

“I didn’t know S’mantha hadda brother,” said Janelle as Michelle left.

Amy shrugged, watching her friend’s children from a distance, her green eyes slightly narrowed. “He’s shy, I think. He doesn’t come out of his room much even when Michelle asks him –“

“Amelia! How are you, darling?” a woman’s voice trilled. Janelle turned around and saw another person she recognised – it was Gina, a blonde woman of about forty. Her youngest child was twelve years old and starting his final year of school. Next year, he’d go and work in the mines like the rest of the men in their village.

“I’m fine,” said Amy stiffly, but she gave Gina an awkward smile.

“Nice to see you here,” said Gina, crouching down next to Janelle and patting her on the head. “So it’s your first day, is it dear?”

“Yup,” said Janelle, glancing nervously at her mother. “Just me and S’mantha start today.”

“I see,” said Gina, her smile fading into a frown. She stood up, straightening her skirt. “Samantha… That’s the little dark-haired girl, right?”

“Yes,” said Amy, her green eyes narrowing. “What do you want, Gina?”

“Now there’s no need to be rude,” said Gina, huffing. “I’m only a concerned mother, just like you. And what I’m concerned about is you letting your daughter associate with that slut and her children –“

“Excuse me?” said Janelle’s mother sharply, folding her arms across her chest. “She has a name, Gina, and she’s a very good friend of mine so you’d do well to remember it if you choose to speak to me. And if I’m honest, I’d rather my daughter associated with her than you.”

With that, she grabbed Janelle’s hand and pulled her away. Janelle glanced at the other children as she trotted after her mother, her eyes finding Samantha. To her surprise, the dark-haired girl stared straight back, her grey eyes expressionless. Janelle wondered if she’d heard what the woman said. If she were honest, she hadn’t fully understood it herself.

“I’d better go, Ella,” her mother said, her voice still shaky. “I’ll pick you up after school, alright?”

“Okay,” said Janelle uncertainly as her mother swept her up in a tight hug. “Bye.”

Amy patted her on the head for a final time before leaving the schoolhouse. Janelle watched her go, still confused. 

What’s wrong with Michelle and Samantha and Tom? They’re nice. Nicer than that lady. So what’d she mean?

“Okay everyone, we’ll start in just a few minutes,” said an older lady Janelle recognised as Shelley, the schoolteacher. Still lost in thought, Janelle trotted over to the armchair where the rest of the children had gathered. Once their lessons had started, she began to forget about Gina’s outburst and instead discovered that her fears of not finding friends were misguided. Most of the other children were friendly and by the end of the day, Janelle knew she would get along with almost all of the class. Samantha and Thomas, however, were among the few who kept to themselves. Although Janelle was happy chatting with the rest of the children, she couldn’t help but glance over at the siblings every so often and wonder if they would ever be friends.

3: A Curious Mind

“Hurry up.”

The Servant looked up, his soft brown eyes widening when he saw his master watching him with a deep frown. He closed the medical book with a snap and hastily shoved it back on the shelf, dropping his gaze and hunching his shoulders as he hurried after the Gift of Fire. The Servant knew that he often angered his master with his desire to read well into the night. But he could not help himself – there was so much interesting information about anatomy, injuries, diseases, or any other medical condition in the small section of medical literature he was allowed to look at. He often lost track of time, utterly absorbed in a book until his Gifted master told him to leave.

“That’s it for tonight,” his master said after the medical Servant signed out for the two of them with the general Servant at the library desk. “Tomorrow morning you’re back in here, but you’re rostered in the maternity bay for the afternoon.”

The Servant nodded. “Yes sir,” he said as they started down the stairs. His mind drifted to the last time he’d been rostered to the maternity bay a week ago. He had delivered four children that night, two from older Servants, one from a Gifted woman in her thirties and another from a fifteen year old Servant, the same age as himself. She had cried when he handed the child to the Gifted supervising, holding his arm and begging him to give her son back. The Servant had not known what to do. He had hesitated, earning himself a slap from his Gifted master while the baby was taken away. His sister had been taken too, yelling and screaming as she went. He had not seen her since.

The Servant shivered, wrapping his arms around himself as they reached the bottom of the stairs and started through the corridors. He remembered how confused and sorry he’d felt for her as she cried. It was wrong to feel that way. His purpose in life was to serve the Gifted, and nothing else. He couldn’t serve them well if he was unable to control his objection to their practices, and he only had a month to improve. After all, this was his last four weeks as a trainee Medical Servant. If he passed, he would no longer have a supervising Gifted following his every move, but every medical mistake he made would lead to a much more severe punishment than now.

“Be ready at seven-thirty sharp,” said his Gifted master abruptly when they finally reached the entrance to the Servant’s quarters. “Like I said, we’ll be going back to the library first.”

The Servant nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. See you in the morning.”

The Servant bowed and mumbled a goodbye, opening the door quickly and entering the dark corridor that connected to all the Servant dormitories. It was so late the hall was deserted and eerily silent. Shivering slightly, the Servant turned to leave, but the sound of voices on the other side of the door stopped him in his tracks.

“2490,” a man’s voice floated through the door. The Servant recognized the number as that belonging to his Gifted master. “I don’t see you down here that often. And was that Servant really a medical one? He had the white bands, but he looks so young.”

“He’s not fully qualified yet,” his master said, his voice faint through the door. “This month is his last as a trainee, and honestly he’s very competent. He’s only fifteen, but he knows more than the rest put together. He’d stay in that library all night if I let him. And he’s quiet, obedient – everything you’d want from one of them.”

“Good,” said the second Gifted. “We need more like him.”

“Well, I don’t think you’ll find them,” said his master darkly, as the Servant heard the two Gifted begin to walk away. “So many of these Servants are – Well, you know. They’re so timid if you speak even the slightest bit sternly to them they’ll be a blubbering mess. This boy does what he’s told and doesn’t carry on if…”

His master’s voice trailed off as he and the second Gifted became too far away for the Servant to hear. The Servant glanced around nervously, hoping no-one had noticed him eavesdropping, and set off down the dark corridor. His dormitory was right at the end of the hall so his feet were rather sore when he had last tumbled into his bed.

As he closed his eyes, he realized his master was right. He would have gladly stayed in the library all night. He had not been the slightest bit tired when they left, but now he was exhausted. The Servant fell asleep quickly and woke when sunlight streamed through the dormitory windows. The other men in his dormitory began to get up, yawning and dressing in a fresh uniform before they started work for the day. The Servant dressed quickly too, hurrying over to where his master had told him to wait. He stood there waiting for long time. It was almost eight o’clock when his master finally returned, rubbing sleep from his eyes and frowning.

“Let’s go then,” he said abruptly. The Servant followed quickly and together they made their way back up to the library.

“I want you to stay here,” said his master as the Servant made his way to the medical section of the shelves. “I have some business to take care of this morning, alright? I’ll be back just before lunch.”

The Servant nodded, glancing across the room and watching as his master left the room. He was not supposed to leave the Servant alone in the library, but his master had been doing so with increasing frequency in the past few weeks. At first, the Servant had been frightened by his master’s actions – after all, if a Council member came up the stairs and found him alone, he would be in more trouble than his master. And although that was still true, he’d become used to the feeling and now used it as an opportunity. After all, it was quiet and peaceful in the library, particularly when he was alone. The room was always bathed in sunlight, and sometimes he would spend an hour just examining the map of the island the large table illustrated. The map fascinated him greatly. The Servant had never stepped outside of the Council in his life. Since his final exams were in only a month’s time, he was hoping he’d have the chance to do so soon.

The Servant daydreamed about seeing the rest of the Island for a few minutes before shaking his head, forcing himself to return to his task. After all, the opportunity to go outside would be much further away from him if he didn’t pass his exams. However, as he scanned the books in the medical section, trying to choose one to occupy him for the morning, he realized there was nothing new there. There were no books he did not recognize; every single one of them he had read before multiple times and remembered their contents well. As he pondered what to do, he found his eyes wandering over the shelves, reading the titles of books above and below the only part of the library he had permission to look at. As he scanned the shelves, he realized there was so much of the world he didn’t know. The desire to learn more burned through him, consuming him in the way only his thirst for knowledge could. Glancing nervously at the door, the Servant stepped away from the medical section and crept between the shelves, his heart beginning to race. He knew how angry the Gifted would be if they realized he’d read something else. He was to look at the medical section only, but… As his deep brown eyes scanned over the rest of the shelves, the titles fascinated him so. There were books about building houses, farming, and an array of skills he knew nothing about. One title interested him more than the others. It was a simple title, but the book was large, almost triple the width of any of the other books on the shelf.

The Other Worlds…

It was a simple title, completely non-specific, but the phrase intrigued him more than anything else he’d ever read. He’d heard of the Other Worlds before in passing, but never had they been fully explained to him. His heart pounding in his ears, he reached up and pulled the heavy book from the shelf and hurried back to the table.

Just a few minutes. That’s all.

He opened the book carefully, sneezing as dust went up his nose. He scanned the contents page, the names of the chapters alone fascinating him. Each chapter title was a single word, and they were all unrecognizable to him. He opened to the first chapter, titled Tarantis, and began to read. His eyes flew over the page, absorbing every word as the book described a whole other world he’d never even heard of before.

“I'm back,” his master’s voice floated through the air. The Servant jumped out of his seat, the heavy book tumbling to the floor as he did so.

“You – you’re here,” he stammered, his cheeks flushing and his heart pounding loudly in his ears as his master frowned.

“Yes, the errands didn’t take me as long as I thought,” the Gift of Fire said, frowning. “And I thought you knew better than to talk to me like that. You’re just a Servant.”

“I – This Servant is very sorry, sir,” the Servant mumbled, glancing at the book. His master noticed him looking and began to approach, his eyes narrowing to little more than slits.

“What’re you reading, boy?” he said, his voice dangerously low.

“N – Nothing. It’s just medical – No, don’t –“

He tried to grab the book but his master was too quick, grabbing the Servant’s wrist and searing his skin. Then Servant yelped and jumped back while the Gifted man picked up the book. His master could not read, but even so, the Servant knew that he had realized what the book was.

“Come along,” said the Gifted man quietly, grasping the book tightly to his chest. “The Council will gladly tell me what it is you’ve been reading if you won’t.”

He grabbed the Servant’s sore wrist and started pulling him towards the door. The Servant pulled away quickly, shutting his eyes to avoid the stinging.

“Please,” he said desperately. “P – Please, sir… It was only for a few minutes, I swear. They’ll – they’ll –“

“They’ll punish you for reading forbidden material,” the Gifted man finished, raising his eyebrows. “Well if you didn’t want to be punished you shouldn’t have read it in the first place. You should just be thankful that you won’t be killed.”

He paused, smiling in a way that sent a chill down the Servant’s spine. “Well, probably not. But every punishment carries some risk, doesn’t it? Now come along.”

He made a grab for the Servant’s wrist again, gripping the sore skin tightly.

“No!” the Servant said shakily. Before the Gifted could properly secure him, he raised his other hand and punched his master directly in the nose. Caught off guard, the Gifted man staggered backwards, letting go of the Servant’s wrist. The Servant stared at him with wide eyes, hardly daring to believe what he’d done.

This Servant punched a master... The Gifted man swore loudly, feeling under his nose for blood. He looked up at the Servant, his eyes flashing.

“You!” The Gifted man dropped his book and started towards him. The Servant bolted for the door, his heart drumming loudly in his ears as he forced it open and hurtled down the stairs. There was nothing to lose now. Reading a book he wasn’t supposed to would get him punished, but attacking a Gifted would get him killed without hesitation.

“Stop!” He heard his master yell from above, but the Servant kept going. He raced through the corridors, the Gift of Fire close behind, dodging around other Gifted and Servants as best he could. Tears streamed down his face as he ran, his chest heaving.

There’s no way out. The Gifted man was stronger and fitter than the Servant and he was already tiring as he raced across the Council grounds. His master would catch him eventually and kill him, it was inevitable, but somehow he kept on running. The only sliver of hope he had was that the main gate into the Council might be open if a group was entering or exiting the grounds. Glancing back and seeing that the Gifted man was still close behind, he raced towards the gate, pleading with all his might that he’d get lucky and the gate would be open.

Please… Please, it has to be. Even if it’s only for a minute, this Servant… I… I have to see the outside world.

To his astonishment, the gate was wide open as a carriage and horses passed through. Not believing his luck, another burst of adrenaline coursed through his body and he raced through the opening, his master yelling at the gatekeeper to stop him. However, the gatekeeper was too baffled to join the chase and the Servant continued into the surrounding forest with only his original pursuer in tow. The Servant’s stamina was fading but he persisted, dodging as best he could around trees while the Gifted man rapidly closed the distance between them. The Servant closed his eyes for a moment, trying to motivate himself to run a little faster, but instead he tripped on a tree root and stumbled to the ground, grazing both of his palms badly. He scrambled across the ground quickly. His chest was heaving and his throat was parched, but he crawled along the floor until a hand grabbed his shoulder and wrenched him onto his back.

His Gifted master stood above him, his cheeks flushed and his breath heavy, but the look he gave the Servant was nothing short of murderous.

 “P - Please don’t,” the Servant stammered, gasping for breath. “I – This Servant promises he will obey, please don’t -“

His master’s eyes narrowed and he shoved his sword through the Servant’s belly.

“You know the rules,” he spat, removing the blade as the Servant cried out in pain. “What, you thought you could read whatever you want? Attack whoever you want? You’re a Servant. You’re scum. Your only purpose in life is to serve the Gifted, and you couldn’t even do that. You’re not even worth enough to get proper burial. No, you’ll die here and rot until some fox decides you’re a passable meal.”

He wiped his blade on the grass and turned around quickly, making his way back to the Council. The Servant watched him go through heavy-lidded eyes, his hand shaking as he slowly reached up and felt the warm, sticky, blood seeping from his wound. He felt oddly numb as he lay there, listening to the birds chirping above.

Pressure… I need to apply pressure.

The thought entered his mind before he could stop it. A part of him ached to let himself go right there in the forest, free from the torment of the Gifted masters he’d served for fifteen years. But his training kicked in involuntarily and he removed his jacket, his hands shaking so badly he barely managed to get it off. He was desperate to lie back and sleep, but instead he forced himself to sit up so he could reach around his torso and tie the jacket tightly against his wound. When he was done he collapsed against the grass, his chest heaving from the effort. He closed his eyes, his lips curving into a weak smile. There was a dull ache radiating from his wound, but despite that he felt oddly at peace as he slipped away.

. . . .

 “He’s alive, Mum. Look, he’s breathing.”

A girl’s voice seeped through as he slowly regained consciousness. The Servant tried to open his eyes, but his lids were far too heavy. It took several minutes before he managed to force them open. Everything was fuzzy, but he could make out the shape of a person leaning over him. The Servant tried to sit up, but he collapsed almost immediately, feeling dizzy.

“Wha…?” he managed, trying to prop himself up on his elbows. “You… You’re a fox…”

“Don’t get up,” the girl said quickly, pushing his chest down when he made an attempt to sit up again. “Listen, you’re very hurt. Mum’s just gone to get some medical stuff. We don’t have a doctor here, but… You’ll be okay, I promise. We’ll save you. And I’m not a fox, by the way. I’m a girl – a human, like you. What’s your name?”

“I… Name?” he mumbled, his head spinning.

“Mine’s Rosa,” the girl said, reaching up and stroking his hair gently. “Tell me yours.”

“Rose…? Isn’t that – flower…”

The girl frowned and said something else, but her voice was far too fuzzy for him to make out. Slowly, he fell into a deep sleep once more, blissfully unaware of how much his life was about to change.

4: The Lonely Choice

That morning, 805 woke to find himself lying on his back in a small room made completely of stone. He sat up, looking around slowly and rubbing his eyes. The only light came from a small window in the door, and even that was lined with bars.

Where am I? This isn’t…

He frowned, trying to remember exactly where he’d fallen asleep. Wherever it had been, it certainly wasn’t the room he found himself in now.

“805…”

He stood up and turned around quickly as someone whispered his number.

“Who’s there?” he asked, hurrying over to the door and peering through the bars. All he could see through the window was a strange bright light, but when he pushed the door open he found another room exactly like the one he woke up in. In the furthest corner from the door, he spotted a moving shadow. 805 took a tentative step closer, reaching to his belt and creating a knife. He held it up and waited for the person to reveal themselves, edging closer as slowly as he could.

“Who’s there?” he repeated, his grey eyes narrowing. The person moved, sitting up slightly so their red hair caught the light. 805 stopped suddenly, his knife loose in hand. A woman lay on the ground before him. Blood spread from multiple wounds in her abdomen, staining her clothing and pooling on the stone floor. She stared up at him, her familiar blue eyes shining in the dim light of the dungeon.

“Michelle!” He dropped the knife with a clatter and rushed to her side. 805 pulled off his uniform jacket and pressed the material against her abdomen as hard as he could. Blood spread across the grey material faster than he’d anticipated, but he kept pressing, his hands shaking badly.

8… 805?” she murmured, her eyes half closed. Slowly, she reached out and traced her fingers over his forearm. A thin trickle of blood fell from the corner of her mouth.

“Yes, it’s me. Michelle, I – Who did this to you?”

“The – the Gifted… They found out...”

Her voice caught and she gave a shuddering breath, closing her eyes as her fingers went limp.

“No,” he said, his voice breaking as he pressed his uniform harder against her wound. “I – You won’t die because of me. You can’t… Don’t –”

He stopped midsentence as something, or someone, gripped his shoulder tightly. 805 stood up quickly and reached to his belt, creating another knife. He thrust it forward, ready to gut the person who’d stabbed Michelle. He stopped suddenly when he saw who it was standing behind him – it was someone so familiar, someone he thought had died long ago…

“Hello, my boy,” she said, her hazel eyes gleaming as her lips stretched into a smile.

“805?”

His number rang through his head as the woman’s fingers closed over his wrist and his throat started to burn. At the same time, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“805, wake up!”

He sat up quickly, gasping for breath. The dungeon faded away and he instead found himself in a small bedroom he knew well. The woman faded too, but her smile haunted him almost as much as it had the last time he’d seen her.

 “What happened?” He could hear Michelle’s voice and feel her hand on his back, but she seemed so far away.

“Nothing,” he muttered, swallowing. He wiped sweat from his forehead, staring up at the ceiling and willing himself to forget the image of her bleeding on the floor.

“805?”

Her hand moved to his shoulder. She rubbed it softly, catching his attention at last. He looked over to her and she gave him a small smile, leaning forward to kiss him. Her fingers caressed his cheek gently and her long red hair tickled his neck.

“What happened?” she repeated, leaning her forehead against his.

“I…” he began, surprised at how his voice trembled. “I… It’s nothing. I – I just saw…”

He shuddered, shaking his head. He couldn’t bring himself to say it, but from the look in her eyes he could tell she understood.

“It was just a dream,” she said, resting her head in the crook of his neck. “I’m fine. They’re not going to kill me, okay? They have no idea about us, you know that. So stop worrying.”

805 did not reply, reaching his arms around her shoulders and pulling her close to him. He knew Michelle meant well, but at the same time, he didn’t know how she expected him to stop when there was so much to worry about.

It may have just been a dream this time, but… If I slip up, even once, I could get her killed. I got close enough tonight. If I hadn’t woken up…

He sighed, rubbing his forehead in frustration. His head ached from lack of sleep, but no matter how much he wanted to lie back down and rest, he couldn’t risk accidentally sleeping through dawn. After all, he had to make it back to the Gifted headquarters before 310 woke up, or the older man might suspect something. That was all it would take, after all. The slightest bit of suspicion against him would cause to a chain of events leading to his and Michelle’s deaths, and Thomas… 805 wasn’t sure what would happen to him, now he’d been living with the nonGifted for four and a half years. Whatever it was, though, he could guarantee it wouldn’t be pleasant.

If I really wanted to keep them safe, I’d leave this house and never come back. I’d end things between us, but – I can’t. I’ve tried, but I can’t –

“What, you’re going all broody on me now?” said Michelle. 805 blinked, shaking his head slightly. He looked down and saw her staring up at him, her lips stretched into a grin.

“I don’t brood,” he said defensively. “I think.”

“That’s the same thing,” she said with a shrug. Her smile faded and she sat up, resting her fingers on his wrist. “But really, you should try to relax a bit. I – do you think I don’t worry about this? I don’t want my son – or you – get killed. But I don’t want to stop seeing you, so worrying just seems a little… Pointless, I guess.”

“I suppose,” 805 admitted, folding his arms across his chest. “But if we do get caught, the consequences – Well, you know what’ll happen. They’ll never forgive us for hiding Thomas, and they won’t be at all pleased about our relationship. But – I don’t want to stop seeing you either, so…”

His voice trailed off and he cleared his throat, his cheeks reddening. He glanced at Michelle and gave her a nervous smile. She smiled broadly in return, leaning over and kissing his cheek. She lingered there for a moment before pressing her lips to his, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer. 805 shut his eyes as their kiss deepened, sliding his hands through the tendrils of her long red hair. He tugged it gently and she gave a small sigh, her grip on his shoulders tightening.

“Stay a while longer, please,” she murmured, kissing the soft hollow of his neck. 805 exhaled, opening his eyes and staring up at the ceiling as he fought a war with his conscience. He wanted nothing more than to let things continue the way they were going; to spend the rest of the night wrapped in her embrace, but he knew it was far too risky. With that in mind, he leaned back and reluctantly shook his head.

“I…” he began, his voice deeper than normal. “I can’t.”

Michelle smiled almost bitterly, tracing the muscles of his chest. “Well you could, but… You won’t.”

“I – you know I can’t risk staying any longer. 310 isn’t stupid, he’ll –“

“I know,” she interrupted, hesitating. “Look, I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound like I’m angry at you for leaving each morning, I just – I wish you didn’t have to.”

She paused, smirking. “I mean, it might be nice to see your face in the daylight for once. I barely know what you look like when you’re shrouded in darkness all the time.”

805 frowned. “But you do see me in the day,” he reminded her. “I see you around town sometimes.”

Michelle laughed. “Yes, I know. I was joking. Well, partly. You’re right, we see each other around the place, but… It’s not like we can really be together.”

“I know,” he muttered, holding his hands tightly in his lap. “Michelle, I… I’m sorry. I know I’m not – Well, I know this isn’t how you want it to be. There’s so much I can’t give you, and – I wish I could, but…”

“It’s okay,” she said, shrugging. “Trust me; I didn’t get into a relationship with a Gifted man thinking everything would be totally normal. I’m not going to say I’m totally happy only spending time with you late at night when everyone’s asleep – that would be a lie. But it’s not your fault. It’s just the way things have to be.”

She paused, grinning and prodding his chest. “Besides, you’re pretty hot, so it’s worth it.”

805 was not sure how to respond to that, so he instead opted to say nothing on the subject.

“I… I should probably go,” he said abruptly, glancing at the window and clearing his throat. “It’ll start to get light soon.”

“Are you coming over tonight?” Michelle asked as he swung his legs over the side of the bed.

“Is that alright?”

“Of course,” she said, grinning. He smiled, dressing quickly and kissing her goodbye. He crept through the house, eying the door to her son’s bedroom warily as he walked past. Luckily he managed to get out of the house without waking Thomas up. He stopped for a moment on the steps outside, frowning when he saw the sun just beginning to rise in the distance.

That was way too close… Next time, I’ve got to leave earlier.

He hurried through the village streets until he reached the Gifted building. He snuck inside as quietly as he could and crept down the corridor. Once he reached his bedroom, 805 rubbed his eyes, suddenly very tired. He fumbled with his the laces of his boots, only just managing to pull them off before tumbling into bed fully clothed.

. . . .

It seemed like only five minutes had passed before he was woken by the sound of 310’s heavy boots stomping along the corridor. 805 sat up slowly, wincing and rubbing his eyes. It was another few minutes before he managed to stand up, yawning loudly and pulling on a fresh uniform. He made his bed very neatly, smoothing out the covers and straightening the pillow. Once he was satisfied, 805 trudged out of his room and made his way to the kitchen. The Servant, a girl around his age, was already there, leaning against the counter beside a bowl of porridge. When she saw him enter she scrambled up, bowing low and mumbling something under her breath. She picked up the bowl and offered it to him, her hands trembling.

“Here you are, sir,” she mumbled. Usually 805 would refuse to take it and make his own meal, but that morning he was far too tired to care. He took the bowl and muttered his thanks before making his way into the dining room. He paused at the doorway, bowing his head slightly at 310, who was sitting in front of a half-empty bowl.

“Morning, sir,” he said as he sat down. 310 nodded at him, leaning back in his chair. He was a fairly short man with dark brown eyes and similarly coloured hair, although he was starting to grey with age. The older man was a Gift of Air, but unlike most of his colleagues he did not seem to care that 805 was a Gift of Earth. Instead, he was rather easy going; much more so than any other Gifted 805 had ever met. But even so, he knew he could never let the older man find out about his night-time excursions. Easy going or not, 310 would not tolerate his attachment to Michelle.

“You look tired,” the older man said as 805 ate a spoonful of porridge. “I’ve told you before; you really should go to bed earlier. All this sleeping late isn’t good for you. You might be young and fit right now but you’ll regret it when you’re older.”

“I didn’t sleep late,” 805 lied, shifting his legs under the table. “I just… I kept waking up.”

310 raised his eyebrows. “Well, that’s hardly natural, is it? When you get back to the Council you should get a medical Servant to check you out.”

805 choked, dropping his spoon back into the bowl. A little bit of porridge splashed out from the impact, but for once he didn’t care about the mess.

“I – What?” he said, still coughing violently.

310 frowned, standing up and thumping him on the back. “Are you alright?”

“I - I’m fine,” said 805 dismissively through another cough. “I – It’s just – What do you mean, get back to the Council?”

“Oh, didn’t I tell you?” said 310 casually as he sat back down. “Sorry, I must have forgotten. A message arrived yesterday while you were out supervising the miners. You and the Servant are being sent back to the Council. Your replacement’s coming tomorrow morning. So I guess this is our last day together, huh?”

“But…” 805 opened his mouth and closed it, shaking his head continuously. “I – I can’t leave. I...”

His voice trailed off. 805 shifted, sweat beading on his forehead. He willed himself to calm down, very aware that 310 was watching him closely and frowning.

“Well, you don’t have a choice,” said the older Gifted. “You know the rules. The Council has ordered that you return so you will do so immediately, when your replacement gets here. Besides, you should be pleased. You’re lucky you’re getting out of this dump after only eight months. I’ve been here almost a year and I swear I’ve forgotten what the sun looks like.”

805 swallowed, forcing himself to nod. “I – yes sir,” he said, his voice shaking. He stood up, gripping the edge of the table tightly. “I… Excuse me. I left something behind.”

He left abruptly, rushing along the corridor until he reached his bedroom. He closed the door behind him and paced restlessly around the room. A million thoughts ran through his mind, all begging for his attention at once. 805 sat down on the bed, trying to sort through them. He swallowed, holding his head in his hands and breathing deeply.

I can’t go. I can’t. But… What can I do? I have to follow the Council’s orders. Even if that means leaving her, I…

Slowly, he lifted his head, staring at a crack in the wall and clenching his fists against his knees. Deep down, he knew there was only one choice. He had to leave Michelle, or risk getting all three of them killed.

For the rest of the day, 805 supervised the miners like he was supposed to, but he felt strangely disconnected from his work in a way he never had before. His body acted on instinct, shepherding the villagers to and from the mines and watching them as they worked, but his mind was focussed on 310’s news and how Michelle would react when he told her. As a result, the day passed quickly and soon enough he found himself on her doorstep late that night. He swallowed, closing his eyes and forcing himself to knock.

“It’s me,” he said in a low voice. His words were followed by the shuffle of footsteps. A few moments later, the door opened and Michelle smiled at him, but her eyes seemed distant.

“Hey,” she said, stepping back to allow him in. 805 frowned, briefly forgetting about his own dilemma as he followed her inside.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. Michelle shut the door and shook her head.

“Nothing,” she said, but her fingers clenched around the doorknob. She let it go, gesturing towards the fire on the other side of the room. “Really, it’s… It’s nothing. Do you want some tea? I bought some at the market last week.”

“Um… sure,” said 805. He was still suspicious, but he sat down on the couch and stared into the fire in an almost trance-like state until Michelle set two cups down on the table and sat down beside him.

“So how was your day?” she asked, taking a sip from her cup.

“It was fine,” said 805, hesitating. “I – Listen, Michelle, there’s…”

His voice trailed off. He swallowed and took a long drink of his tea, burning his tongue while he pondered how to deliver the news. He knew he had no choice but to say it straight out, but even so, he struggled to form the right words.

“Michelle…” he began, staring at his cup, his fists clenching against his knees. “Listen to me, I… There’s something I have to tell you.”

She blinked, placing her cup down and slipping her hand into the crook of his elbow. “What is it?”

805 hesitated, turning slightly so they were facing. Michelle watched him closely, a wisp of red hair caught in her lip and her eyebrows furrowed. Tentatively, he reached out and caressed her cheek as a lump rose in his throat.

Just say it.

“I’m leaving,” he muttered, turning away from her.

“You’re…” she said slowly, her grip on his arm tightening. “I - What do you mean?”

“I have to leave this village,” he said, clenching his fingers together in his lap. “There was a message from the Council. Tomorrow, I’ll be going back there. I… I’m sorry, but… I have to go.”

Michelle’s eyes began to water as the words left his mouth. She opened her mouth to speak, swallowing and shaking her head.

“You can’t leave,” she said, her voice trembling. “I - Not now, you can’t – I need you.”

“I don’t have a choice,” he said, struggling to keep his voice level. “I – I’m sorry, Michelle, but… I have to go. If I refuse they’ll know something’s up.”  

“But…” Her voice trailed off and she shook her head again. “I… There has to be something we can do. Can’t you request to stay longer?”

“I can’t. Don’t you see? If I do that, they’ll wonder why I want to stay. They’ll look into me and find out what I did here. It won’t take them long, I – it’s written in my file that I Assessed this village. They’ll find you and – when they realise we hid Thomas, they’ll kill you. They’ll kill all three of us. I… I can’t let that happen.”

His voice broke on his last sentence. Michelle leaned forward and kissed him tenderly, her fingers brushing against his collar. 

“Run away with me, then,” she said quietly.

“Run away?” he muttered, shifting his feet. “I – I don’t know about that, it’s… Where would we go?”

“I heard there’s a sanctuary just outside the valley,” she said, taking his hand and squeezing it. “We could take Thomas and start over somewhere new. It – We could do it, we really could.”

805’s eyes met hers, and for a moment, he was convinced what she was suggesting was the right thing to do. A part of him, larger than he’d ever realised, wanted desperately to run if it meant he could stay with Michelle. But despite how much his heart ached for her, there was a dark, niggling doubt he couldn’t shake. The idea of leaving the Gifted scared him more than anything else in the world. After all, who was he without them? They were all he’d ever known. Without the Gifted, his life had no purpose.

I’ve told myself this before. No matter how much I wish I was born different, or how much it hurts to leave her, I… There’s no choice. Without the Gifted, I’m nothing. I can’t leave them.

“I… can’t go with you,” he muttered. “I’m sorry, but I can’t leave the Gifted. They’re my people. Without them, I’m…”

His voice trailed off. He glanced down at Michelle, who gave him a small smile.

“I know you can’t,” she said gently. “I – to be honest, I don’t want to run away either. I suggested it because I want to stay with you, but… I have to think of my son first, and Tom’s life is here. ”

She paused, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “But listen, there’s… I need to tell you something. I know it won’t make any difference, but before you go, I…”

Her voice trailed off and she swallowed, her eyes darting between him and the fire. 805 frowned. He’d never seen her look so scared.

“What is it?” he asked. Michelle looked up at him, her blue eyes wobbling. She opened her mouth to speak, but hesitated, glancing down at his left hand and gently turning it over so the underside of his wrist was visible. She brushed her fingers over two raised, straight scars that spanned the length of his wrist, but before she could say anything 805 snatched his hand away.

“Please don’t,” he muttered, his jaw clenching.

“I’m sorry,” Michelle said quickly. She leaned forward and kissed him tenderly, her breath tickling his nose. Smiling tentatively, she pulled away and rested her head against his chest. 805 watched her cautiously for a few minutes, and once he was certain she’d dropped the subject, he continued.

“So… what did you want to tell me?” he asked, slowly drawing his arms around her shoulders. Michelle’s eyes darted to his wrist again. She hesitated, turning her head so their eyes met.

“I… I love you,” she said, her voice trembling. “That's... That’s all I wanted to say.”

805 stared at her, opening and closing his mouth several times as he tried to think of a coherent response. Her words filled him with a strange warmth, but at the same time, they were terrifying. Did she really mean them? Maybe she did, but he certainly didn’t feel the same way. He was attached, certainly, but he didn’t love her. He was Gifted, after all. They were no supposed to fall in love.

“Well…” 805 began, pulling away from her and clearing his throat. “I… Thank you, but I don’t feel the same, so…”

His voice trailed off when he saw Michelle grinning at him. She started to laugh, shaking her head vigorously.

“Oh come on,” she said, still smiling. “You don’t really think I’ll believe that, do you?”

“It’s the truth,” 805 muttered, avoiding her gaze. Michelle reached out and cupped his chin, turning his head gently towards her. She kissed him, her fingers sliding through his dark hair.

“I know you’re lying,” she said softly. “And I know this is difficult for you, but… If I’m never going to see you again, I want to hear you say it. Please, just… Just once. “

“I…” 805 muttered, looking away. “I’m really not lying. At least, I… I don’t think I am. I’m Gifted, I don’t – we don’t feel things like that.”

“Well, I don’t think being Gifted means you can't fall in love. You’re human, aren’t you? And even if you are lying, just humour me. I don’t care.”

805 hesitated. I… I suppose it can’t hurt to just say it, especially if she wants me to so much. And it’s not like I feel nothing for her, even if it’s not…

Closing his eyes, 805 took a deep breath and willed himself to say the words.

“I love you,” he muttered. The moment the words left his mouth, he knew they were true. He looked up at her, his grey eyes shining. “I – I love you, I… I really do. I’m not lying.”

 “I know,” she whispered, smiling as he leaned forward and kissed her fiercely. This time, neither of them pulled away, acutely aware that their time together was drawing to a close.

. . . .

“If we keep up this pace, we shall arrive at the village by noon, sir,” said the Servant, bowing her head as she and 805 trudged away from the place they had both spent eight months of their lives in. There was a carriage waiting for them in the town on the other side of the mountain. From there, they’d head straight back to the Council.

“Great,” 805 muttered, folding his arms across his chest. He tried to focus on their journey, but all he could think of was the last glimpse he’d had of the woman he loved. She’d been asleep when he left. He’d thought of waking her up, but eventually he decided it would probably be easier for her if he didn’t. She would simply get up that morning and he’d be no longer a part of her life. In less than a year’s time, all she’d have to remember him by was a fleeting memory. 805 rubbed his eyes, wondering why it didn’t seem real to him yet. A part of him expected he’d be back in her house that night. However, as he and the Servant trudged further and further from the village, it started to sink in.

I…  I’ll never see her again. Never…

His throat burned and his fists clenched. He stopped suddenly, sending the Servant into a panic.

“Sir, are you alright?” she said urgently. “Are you hurt? You…”

She stared up at him, her green eyes widening when she noticed the tears trailing down his cheeks. “S – Sir…”

“I…” 805 began, reaching up and hastily wiping eyes. “I’m fine. Let’s keep going. That’s all we can do.”

5: A Mother's Love

The Gifted woman glanced out the window, watching the sun as it rose over the great white wall of the Council. It was beautiful to watch, but that morning the sight of it only made her feel worse. After all, the fact that she could see the sun over the wall meant seven o’clock was long gone. She could no longer deny that he was not going to show up. Swallowing, she pushed a loose strand of her shoulder-length blonde hair from her eyes and stepped away from the wall she’d been leaning against.

It doesn’t mean anything. Maybe he’s… Maybe he just slept in. But – I just can’t – What if he’s sick again?

Lost in thought, 913 hurried from the training room, practically running through the winding corridors of the Council. She stopped to catch her breath outside the door to the seventh year dormitories. An aging male Servant stood to the side, looking up as she approached and bowing quickly.

“What can this Servant do for you, ma’am?” he said, his voice slightly hoarse.

“I’m looking for one of the boys,” said 913 between breaths, trying to sound casual. “His number’s 256, he –“ She paused, swallowing. “He was supposed to be training this morning, but he didn’t show up. I… I wondered if maybe he’d slept in, or…”

Her voice trailed off. The Servant gave a small frown and started to rummage through a pile of notes on the desk beside him.

“Here,” he said eventually, picking a piece of paper from the mess and rubbing the bridge of his nose. He held the paper close to his face, squinting his eyes to read it.

“The number was 256?” he said, glancing at her briefly before focussing on the note again. 913 nodded, shifting from foot to foot.

“That’s right,” she said, her voice hitching. “Where… where is he? Is he inside?”

“He is in the sick-bay, ma’am,” said the Servant, frowning as 913 gasped loudly. “Are – ma’am, are you –“

“I’m fine,” she snapped, her face flushing slightly as she realised she may have given herself away. “I – I mean… I’ve been waiting for hours, and you – just – why didn’t you tell me before? Pull something like this again and I’ll report you to the Council.”

The Servant turned white and stammered a stream of apologies as she turned on her heel and ran back through the winding corridors. Her heart hammered in her ears as she hurried, pushing aside both Gifted and Servants alike as she ran towards the sickbay. She ignored the many calls and complaints, unable to think of anything but her young trainee.

I was so sure he was getting better. I was certain of it, but…

Since 256’s Gift had manifested a month ago, 913 had noticed significant change in his health. He no longer seemed to have the chronic cough that had plagued him for as she could remember, and he was so much brighter and fitter in their training, too. For the first time, 913 had begun to feel hopeful that the small, sickly boy she’d rescued would fit into the Gifted world at last. But now he was ill again, meaning the last few weeks had likely been nothing but a fluke.

913 found the sick bay quickly, stepping inside and glancing around. She caught the eye of a medical Servant, who bowed low and hurried over.

“How may this Servant help you, ma’am?” he asked, his voice deeper than she’d expected.

“I’m looking for my trainee, 256,” she said between breaths to the medical Servant. He nodded, staring at her shoulders in a way that was fairly disconcerting.

“He is this way, ma’am,” said the Servant, beckoning her to follow. She hurried after him, glancing from bed to bed. A lot of children were lying down, some asleep, others awake. Most looked fairly healthy to 913, although there were a few who were on the verge of vomiting or worse. Medical Servants roamed from bed to bed, checking the children over and changing any soiled bedding. In addition, a few senior Gifted were hanging around, supervising the Servants and children and all looking thoroughly bored.

“He is here, ma’am,” the Servant she was following announced when they’d reached the end of the long room. Sure enough, in the far right corner, 913 saw her trainee. He was sitting up in his hospital bed. His eyes were red and he was biting his lip anxiously, but otherwise he looked completely healthy. 913 breathed out slowly, her shoulders relaxing. She hadn’t realised how tense she’d been.

“256,” she said, almost laughing with relief as the Servant bowed again and left them alone. The boy looked up at her, his large brown eyes brightening when he saw her hurrying towards him. He reached out for her hand before she’d even made it to his bed.

“You’re here,” he said, smiling and squeezing her fingers as she perched on the mattress beside him. 913 hesitated, glancing down at their hands and pulling away. She stood up, stepping slightly to the side and pulling the curtain surrounding his bed across, so they were almost entirely obscured from any wandering eyes. Once she was sure it was safe she sat next to him again.

You – you scared me,” she said, clearing her throat. “I thought you’d have a fever again.”

The boy shook his head, his shaggy black hair falling in his eyes. “I chucked a couple’a times. The Servants say I prob’ly ate something bad last night. Lots of other kids’ve been sick too, see. But I’m heaps better now.”

913 let herself smile, reaching out and ruffling his hair. “Well, I’m glad. Soon we can get back to training again.”

256 nodded solemnly, shuffling over to the side of the bed and pulling back the covers. She laughed, placing her hand on his shoulder and gently pushing him back against the bed.

“Not right this minute,” she said, grinning. “Tomorrow, probably. Once you’ve had a chance to rest.”

“But I feel fine,” he insisted, although as he said so he yawned loudly, showing all his teeth. Or rather, most of them, since two of his upper incisors had fallen out just a week previously. She smiled at the memory, remembering how he’ rushed into the training room that morning, holding them out for her to see and chattering excitedly about the exact moment they’d both come loose during breakfast. 913 hadn’t really wanted to see his slimy teeth, but she’d pretended to mirror his excitement even so.

“You’ll stay, right?”

She blinked, shaking her head slightly. She looked up at 256 and frowned. “Sorry, what?” she said.

He shifted his feet under his blanket. “I… I was just wondering. I… I’m not a bit tired, honest, but – you’ll stay, right? If I sleep?”

“I…” 913 hesitated, glancing around. “I – I don’t know, 256. I’m not really meant to. I just came to make sure you were alright.”

“But...” he began, his large brown eyes filling with tears. “I… I want you to.”

913 swallowed. Tentatively, she reached out and took his hand, glancing around nervously to make sure no Servants were looking in.

“I know you do,” she said, as gently as she could manage. “And I wish I could stay with you too, but – the others won’t be happy about it, you know that. Don’t cry.”

“I’m not,” he insisted, even as tears rolled down his cheeks. “I – I just – I don’t like it here, it’s weird.”

913 nodded. “I know. Don’t worry, you’ll be out of here soon. But you’ve got to rest a bit first. And I… Look, I can’t promise I’ll still be here when you wake up, but I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep. Does that sound okay?”

He smiled again, beaming up at her as he wiped away his tears. “’Kay.”

Still clutching her hand, he lay down against the pillows and closed his eyes. Tentatively, 913 reached out and stroked his hair, her chest clenching as she watched him fall asleep. She knew she should have refused him, to have left without providing him any comfort. It was her duty to do so, after all. But try as she might, she couldn’t bring herself to push him away. Even before she started training him; when he was just the small, scrawny baby she’d found on her Assessments, she’d wanted so badly to keep him safe. She’d stayed up night after night on their journey to the Council, feeding him goat’s milk and wrapping him up in her own winter coat. She’d even used her Gift to keep him breathing throughout the journey, all in her desperation to keep him alive. Once she’d handed him over to the nursery, 913 had tried to get on with her life, determined that by the time she met him again three years later for his training she’d be indifferent as any good trainer should be. Instead, after a few short weeks of teaching she’d found herself wanting to protect him from anything that made him sad or scared. But how could she do that, when their entire lifestyle seemed to make him cry?

“Ma’am?”

She startled, looking up to see a medical Servant standing at the edge of the curtain, his brown eyes wide with surprise as he stared down at the two Gifted. 913 stood up quickly, clearing her throat.

“He’s fine, just sleeping,” she said abruptly, standing up and pushing past the Servant without saying another word. She hurried out of the sick bay, hardly daring to look back. She knew the Servant wouldn’t dare dob her in – at least, if he did, the Council wouldn’t believe him without a member of the Gifted backing him up. Still, she was worried. Just because she hadn’t been caught this time, didn’t mean she couldn’t be in the future.

I have to be more careful. I… I can’t let that happen again. I know what’ll happen if they find out.

She swallowed, a shiver going down her spine as she hurried back to the training rooms. She wasn’t ignorant. She knew what she felt, and how dangerous it was. It was only natural the children would get attached to them, even the Council knew that. As a trainer it was her duty to discourage him, to keep herself a step away so he would not become so reliant on her comfort. She had failed miserably at that, but how else could she keep him safe? He was such a fragile boy, both physically and emotionally. Any other trainer would push him too hard, but she knew better. She knew what he needed, and it was her.

When he’s a few years older… When he doesn’t need me so much, I’ll stop this. I’ll push him away like I’m supposed to. I really will. But right now, only I can keep him safe.

. . . .

Later that night, 913 found herself lying in bed unable to sleep. She had spent almost the entire day training and trying and failing to forget about the dangerous situation she was in. And for the few moments when she did manage to think of something else, she worried about 256 in the sick bay. She dared not go back to check on him after being caught by that medical Servant, but even so, she wondered if he was improving. Sure, they seemed to think it was food poisoning, but what if it wasn’t? What if his chronic sickness was coming back, and they just hadn’t realised it?

Calm down… You saw how many kids were in there. If it’s not food poisoning it’s probably just some other bug they’ve all picked up. He’ll be fine. I’ll – I’ll go to the dormitory tomorrow, early, to see if he’s been sent back. And if he hasn’t, I’ll – I’ll go visit him again. Even that Servant won’t find it strange, I’m his trainer, after all. It’ll just be a few minutes –

A loud knock at her door shocked her out of her thoughts. 913 sat up quickly, shivering in the wintery air of her room, her heart beginning to race.

Who could it be, at such a late hour?

“I – Wait a minute,” she said quickly, pulling off her old grey nightgown and changing into a fresh uniform. Once she was decent, she hurried to the door and opened it. She gasped when she saw the Head Councilman standing outside her door. He was a tall man in his late fifties, with a nose that had been broken in several places.

“I – Good evening, sir,” she stammered, bowing low. She knew his number, 4450, from the days before he was in the Council and was just another Gift of Air. However, it was impolite to refer to such a senior Gifted by their number. He stared grimly back at her, his eyebrows narrowing slightly.

“Come with me, please,” he said, reaching out and taking her arm, gripping it so tightly she gasped. 913’s heart started to race as she was pulled out of the room.

I – could it be – but he was just a Servant –

“Where - where are we going?” she said, her skin paling. The Councilman did not answer, dragging her swiftly through the corridors. He pulled her into a small room beside the sickbay. Inside was a single Gifted woman and two Servants, both of whom she recognised. One was the medical Servant who’d seen her with 256 the previous day; the other was the man who’d stood outside the dormitory and told her that her trainee was in the sick bay. Between them sat 256 himself, his small face soaked with tears. 913’s chest began to heave and she felt weak at the knees.

No, he can’t have – he wouldn’t have told them –

“913!” 256 exclaimed, rushing over to her. To her surprise, none of them tried to stop him, and before she could tell him not to he threw his arms around her waist and hugged her tightly.

“I – I had a bad dream,” he said into her chest, his voice muffled. “I – there was water all around, I – I couldn’t breathe, I – I – I wanted you. So 9823 and Mister Councilman said they’d find you, and – they did, they did!”

913 glanced down at him, her breath hitching. A single tear rolled down her cheek as she looked up at the two Gifted, shaking her head.

“I – I didn’t…” she stammered. “I – “

“Is that proof enough for you?” the Gifted woman interrupted, glaring at the Councilman. He raised his eyebrows at her insolence.

“Don’t speak to me like that,” he said coldly. “You’ve made your point. She will be –“

“What’s going on here?”

913 gasped, turning around as best as she could with 256 attached to her waist.

I – I know that voice… What’s he doing here?

“Sir?” said the Head Councilman doubtfully, just as 913 managed to swivel around enough to see the Leader of the Gifted standing in the doorway. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man in his sixties, wearing a white uniform with gold-lined sleeves. His posture was slightly stooped and he walked with a cane, but even so, the Gifted would always remember the powerful man he was in his youth when he was named by his predecessor as the 48^th Leader of the Gifted. Of course, 913 had not been alive back then - he’d been Leader for over thirty years, and she was only in her twenty-fifth year. Still, she’d heard the stories. He was one of the few Leaders to regularly leave the safety of the Council, and, if the legends were to be believed, he’d done battle with several rebel leaders over the years.

“You don’t have to be here for this, sir,” the Head Councilman continued, bowing low and glancing at 913. “It’s just a standard attachment case.”

The Leader shrugged, holding his cane with both hands. “Well, I wanted a word with you and my Servants told me you were dealing with this. Anyway, I might as well assist you, since I’m here.”

He cleared his throat. “Now, Servants – take this boy back to his dormitory. Once he’s safe there, let the Gifted on duty know what’s going on. They’ll look after him from then on. After that, go get some rest. Thank you for assisting us with this case.”

The Servants nodded wordlessly and bowed, stepping forward and advancing towards 913 and 256. She tightened her arms around him, shaking her head as tears rolled down her cheeks.

“What – what are they doing?” said 256 nervously, glancing up at her, his large brown eyes widening when he saw she was crying. “9 – 913…”

“Please, don’t do this,” she stammered, her green eyes fixed on the Leader. “he – he’s only young, he – he needs me – No!”

One of the Servants reached out and twisted her wrists until she was forced to let 256 go; the other grabbing the boy around the waist and pulling him away. He started sobbing, shaking his head and calling out her number, again and again, the sound of it ringing in her head even once the Servants had dragged him out of sight. Her eyes shining with tears, 913 fell to her knees, her body shaking.

I… I’ve ruined everything… I couldn’t protect him, and – what’ll happen to us now? We’ll be –

“Ma’am.”

She looked up, her vision blurred from her tears. She wiped her eyes clean and sniffed, surprised to see it was the Leader, of all people, who had called her ma’am.

“Y – yes?” she said, her voice thick.

“I’d like to hear your testimony,” he said, almost quietly. He held out a hand and 913, slightly dazed, let him pull her to her feet. Behind his back, the Head Councilman rolled his eyes.

“Is this really necessary, sir?” he said irritably. “We have clear evidence –“

“That may be so, but we still have to listen to all sides of the story,” said the Leader firmly. He glanced up at the Councilman, his sky blue eyes slightly narrowed. “I have told you this time and time again, 4450.”

“I –“ The Councilman swallowed, almost nervously. “But in this case, I don’t think we need to –“

“Then leave us,” said the Leader, almost dangerously. The Head Councilman bit his lip, glaring at 913 like it was her fault, but he could not go against the Leader’s word. Turning sharply on his heel, he beckoned to the Gifted woman and together they left the room.

“So,” said the Leader once he and 913 were alone. He sat down heavily in a chair at the edge of the room, massaging his right thigh as he did so. With his other hand, he gestured at the empty chair across from him. “Sit with me.”

913 obeyed quickly, almost tripping as she scrambled towards the chair. The Leader watched her in silence, rubbing his stubbly chin thoughtfully.

“Tell me what’s going on,” he said after a long pause. 913 swallowed, clenching her fists against her knees.

“I…” she began, tears filling her eyes again. She sniffed, wiping her eyes quickly.

“I – I won’t pretend I did nothing wrong,” she continued, her voice breaking. “I – You’ve seen the evidence. I – I know I must be punished, but – Please, don’t hurt him. He – he’s only a little boy, he – it’s natural he’d get attached to me. I’m the one who encouraged it, so please… promise me you’ll leave him alone.”

The Leader watched her closely; his sky blue eyes almost seemed to look right through her.

“We don’t punish seven year-olds,” he said, so quietly she had to strain her ears to hear it. “He’s lucky that we discovered this was going on when we did. If he were a little older he’d be in just the same situation as you are.”

913 nodded, her chest heaving. “I – I know. I know it was wrong of me. He… I should have let him be more independent.”

The Leader did not reply; his silence on the matter was slightly disconcerting. Eventually, he leaned forward, grasping his hands together.

“Do you know why attachments are banned?” he asked.

913 frowned, slightly confused. “Of course. We have to be dedicated to the Gifted, not individuals.”

The Leader smiled, almost sadly, she thought. “Yes, that’s right. But it’s more than that. If the Gifted ever go to war – and it will happen one day, whether it’s against rebels or someone else – we must be completely dedicated to the cause. We can’t have friends or family holding us back. Say this boy – 256, was it? Say he goes to war one day. What if you’re taken hostage, and he has to give them valuable information about us to get you back? If he’s not attached, our cause will be more important to him and he’ll let you die rather than give it up. If he wants to save you he’ll give them the information they want. You’ll live, but the rest of us will suffer. Now, I know that may seem like a silly example, but if we allowed attachments on a large scale that’s exactly what would happen. They can only be used against you.”

“I – I know that,” 913 stammered, her eyes filling with tears again. “I… I just wanted… I had to keep him safe.”

“From what?” the Leader said, his bushy grey eyebrows raised. “Our lifestyle? All you’ve done is turn him into a snivelling child with no way of standing up on his own two feet. That’s not how the Gifted are supposed to be.”

“I – I know,” said 913 in a small voice. “I… I’m sorry.”

The Leader bowed his head. “And I accept your apology. But even so, you need to be punished. Otherwise, you’ll make the same mistake again.”

With that he stood up and limped towards the doorway.

“4450, you can take her,” he said as he poked his head through to the corridor. 913’s body began to shake as the Head Councilman strode back into the room. He pulled her forcibly to her feet and wrenched her arms behind her back. She stood there numbly as the Leader and 4450 discussed her punishment, their voices fuzzy and incoherent. Eventually, The Councilman bid the Leader goodbye and started to lead her to the dungeons. 913 drifted alongside him compliantly, completely disengaged from what was happening.

I deserve this… I can’t forget that. The Leader’s right, I encouraged him… I let him get attached. I let myself get attached to. I shouldn’t have -

“We’ll start in here,” said the Head Councilman, his voice penetrating the fuzziness of her mind. She blinked, still half dazed as they stopped outside a door deep in the underground maze of the Council dungeons. The Councilman opened the door and pushed her inside. A tall, black, closet-sized box with a heavy door stood in the middle of the room, reaching right up to the ceiling. There was a small window right at the top, but other than that, she knew that inside it must be completely dark. Two Servants jumped to attention, bowing low and muttering their formalities to 4450, their eyes darting between him and 913. However, she was too distracted to really notice them.

“What’s this?” she said, her voice squeaking slightly as she surveyed the box. The Head Councilman did not say anything at first, staring grimly at it. She knew he must be as fearful of it as she was – after all, they were both Gifts of Air.

“It’s… it’s phase one,” he said eventually, gripping her left arm while a Servant took her right. 913 shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“No!” she stammered, her chest shuddering as they pulled her towards the box. “You – No, I can’t go in there, I – there’s not enough air –“

She gasped as they slammed the door shut behind her, the bolts clacking loudly. She banged at the heavy door, the skin of her knuckles breaking from the impact but she barely felt it. The box was less than a metre wide and dark, but the worst part was the way the walls pressed up against her, closing her in.

“Let me out!” she screamed, her fingernails digging into her cheeks. She ripped at her flesh; scraped her nails against the walls, but no matter what she did nobody came to let her out. Paralysed with fear, she sunk to the floor, tears streaming down her cheeks. She curled into a ball as best she could, her chest heaving. She gasped, her lungs feeling like they were on fire.

“I deserve this,” she whispered croakily as the darkness closed in on her. “I… I deserve it. I… I deserve…”

. . . .

It was late at night when she made her choice. It had been a week since her punishment ended, but she still felt it. When she closed his eyes, the walls started to close in. When she opened them, she screamed as the knives cut her skin, as the flames seared her flesh. The pain, the despair, the hopelessness… it all came rushing back. Most of all, though, she saw 256, his brown eyes wide, tears streaming down his cheeks, calling her number as the Servants dragged him away.

It’s too much. I can’t…

Her chest heaved and she dug her fingernails into her skin, her eyes moving slowly upwards until they focussed on her old nightgown, high above. Shakily, she pushed herself to her feet so she was standing on the edge of her bed. Closing her eyes, she felt for the makeshift noose and looped it around her neck. As the soft material settled against her skin, she felt oddly calm. She knew what she was doing was right. It was best for everyone. She’d finally be free of the thoughts that had plagued her for a month, and 256… Well, he’d never see her again. He’d be able to live as one of the Gifted properly without her holding him back. She only hoped she hadn’t ruined him forever.  

Please, forget about me… The only thing I ever wanted was to keep you safe. And – as long as I’m still here, you’re not.

Her resolve tightened, she took one last deep breath and stepped gracefully off the bed.

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

4450 yawned loudly as he strode through the winding corridors. He hated being on Training Duty. Every month, it was the job of three rotating Council members to keep a check on the young Gifted, to ensure they were progressing as they should. It was dull work, mostly involving him trailing from training room to training room, making sure the trainers were doing as they should. That morning, he was even more reluctant than usual to perform his duty. He hadn’t had much sleep the previous night, not that he’d minded then.

Smirking slightly to himself, he thought of his Servant, back in his rooms on the other side of the building. He sucked in his breath as he remembered everything he’d made her do last night. They’d picked a good one for him, he thought. She was more willing than most. He’d taken some in the past who were just far too whiny, crying and carrying on.

At least this one’s a bit bolder. She knows her place, but –

A loud, blood-curdling scream sounded through the air, distracting him completely from his reminiscing. 4450’s heart began to race and he drew his sword, sprinting through the halls towards the scream. He turned a corner and saw a female Servant backing away from an open door, her hands covering her mouth, her eyes wide.

“What is it?” he said urgently, rushing towards her. She said nothing, pointing shakily at the doorway. 4450 glanced inside the room, almost dropping his sword when he saw what the Servant had screamed at.

Crap… I know who that is. That’s – Why did no-one –

“I - Cut her down,” he muttered, folding his arms across his chest and turning away. The Servant did not obey and simply sunk to the floor, her body shaking, her eyes wet with tears. 4450 stayed still for a moment, waiting for her to do as he'd commanded, but when it became clear she wasn't going to he knew he had no choice. Swallowing, he gripped the hilt of the sword tightly and stepped gingerly into the room. His hands shaking, he reached up with his blade and sawed through the tattered cloth until she fell to the floor with a loud thunk. Biting his bottom lip, he turned away from her again, willing himself to forget what he’d just seen. His efforts were fruitless, however. The image of her body would haunt him for the rest of his days. 

6: Ordinary Girls

Will you join in our crusade?

Who will be strong and stand with me?

Somewhere beyond the barricade is there a world you long to see?

Do you hear the people sing?

Say, do you hear the distant drums?

It is the future that they bring when tomorrow comes!

                                                                                                           Les Misérables

 

Samantha trudged quickly through the thick snow covering the main street of the small village she called home. As she walked she pressed the back of her hand hard against her nostrils, attempting to staunch the fresh stream of blood that was trickling down to her lip. Even though it was the middle of winter and an icy wind blew through the village streets, she felt like she was boiling up. Red-hot anger fumed inside her, but she gritted her teeth and held it in. She stared straight ahead, stalking past a crowd of noisy teenage boys returning from the day shift at the mines. They jeered at her as she passed, but she ignored them and ducked swiftly into a nearby alleyway. She kept walking and lowered her hand gingerly in the vain hope that the bleeding would stop, but a fresh stream of blood trickled almost instantly down her chin.

Damn, doesn’t look like it’s stopping. Mum’s gonna kill me.

She stopped walking as soon as that thought entered her head, her heart skipping a beat. Tears filled her eyes and she swallowed, clenching her fists. She reminded herself that her mother would not be angry at her ever again for getting into fights. That morning she hadn’t even recognised her daughter at all. Sniffing, Samantha kept walking through the alleyway and made her way to their family home on the far side of the small village. She hurried up the stairs and fumbled with her key, her hand shaking so much it took her several tries to get it into the lock correctly. Eventually she managed to get it open and stepped quickly inside.

“It’s just me,” she called stiffly, giving her nose another hasty wipe. She walked slowly over to the kitchen area and picked up an old, frayed rag, pressing it against her nostril. As she did so, she heard a shuffle of footsteps from upstairs. She waited, her heart quickening slightly as the thud of her brother’s boots drew closer and closer.

“You took a while,” she heard him say as he came down the stairs. “What, didn’t they think the quality was good enough? I’m doing my best, but without – well, without Mum it’s…”

His voice trailed off as he stepped into the room and caught sight of her. His blue eyes narrowed into a frown and he hurried over.

“What happened?” he said urgently, pulling her hand away and inspecting her nose. “I – did they do this? The Gifted? Why –“

“It wasn’t them,” Samantha interrupted, clenching her fists. “I – I mean… That was all fine, they took the swords and knives and whatever else was in that package. They said we passed this month’s quota, so there’s nothing wrong there. We’ll get all our rations like usual when the next supply comes in.”

“Then what happened?” Thomas repeated, taking the rag from her and wetting it in the bucket of water she’d collected that morning. He passed it back to her and she pressed it hard against her nose, holding her head up so she was staring at the ceiling.

“It… it’s nothing,” she muttered, swallowing. She was glad he couldn’t see her face properly. “I – I just had a little disagreement with someone on the way back.”

Thomas raised his eyebrows. “A little disagreement?” he said, folding his arms and shaking his head slowly at her. Samantha’s breath hitched and she felt tears well up behind her eyelids. Her mother had always looked at her in the exact same way whenever she’d gotten into a fight. It didn’t help that Thomas resembled her so. Thomas and Michelle had the same vibrant red hair and bright blue eyes, they were of similar height and had similar facial features as well. Not only that, it was Thomas who’d taken on her trade, while Samantha stuck to running errands. In truth, a part of her had always been a little envious of their relationship. They had a deep understanding of each other that she’d never had with either of them, or anyone else for that matter.

“A disagreement shouldn’t get you punched in the face,” her brother continued, oblivious. Samantha squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, swallowing the lump in her throat.

“I… I was elbowed,” she said eventually. “Not punched. And trust me, Gerald looks a lot worse than I do right now.”

“Gerald?” Thomas echoed, frowning. “What were you doing getting into a fight with him, Sam? He’s old enough to be your father. Grandfather, even.”

Samantha lowered her head. “He… he said some things,” she muttered, avoiding his gaze. “And – I wasn’t… I didn’t…”

Her voice trailed off and she looked away, a lump rising in her throat again. She looked up at her older brother, her eyes watering. It only took one look in his eyes to know he understood. Thomas bowed his head and patted her shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

“Let’s sit down,” he said quietly. She let him steer her over to the couch and did as he asked while he poured them both a cup of water.

“Tell me what happened,” he said a moment later as he passed her a mug.

“He… I’d just dropped all your stuff with the Gifted when I ran into him,” she muttered, her throat oddly dry even after she’d taken a long sip of water. “He – he asked me if she – Well, he asked me if Mum was really dying. I told him she was, and then he… That’s when he started saying it.”

“What?”

She closed her eyes, swallowing. “He said… He said she’s sick right now because she’s dirty,” Samantha mumbled, avoiding his gaze. “He said the great pox is killing her, and that’s why she’s been so… Well, you know. And he kept saying it, over and over, and – that’s when I punched him.”

She looked up at her brother, her grey eyes shining. Thomas watched her for a minute or so before leaning back. He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Well, it’s not killing her,” he said, placing a hand on her shoulder and squeezing it. “The doctor says that thing on her chest probably started it all. And even if it was the pox, what does it matter? She’s our mother. Who cares what she’s dying of? all that matters is she’s dying.”

Samantha swallowed. “I – I know, but…Doesn’t it bother you? Even when she was well, they all said such horrible things about her. And us, too.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Thomas gently. “And I know how it angers you, but – try not to think about it. Getting mad doesn’t change anything.”

Neither does doing nothing. Samantha bit her lip, looking up at her older brother and realising he and their mother were once again on the same page. Michelle had never confronted the other villagers when they taunted her, instead taking all their cruelty in her stride. It was something Samantha had never been able to understand.

“I… I suppose you’re right,” she muttered eventually, unwilling to argue further. “Anyway, I… I’ll go sit with her for a bit. You can go back to work.”

Thomas nodded and stood up, turning to his sister and giving her a tight hug. Samantha’s eyes prickled with tears and she sniffed, patting him awkwardly on the back.

“Now, don’t burn anything,” said Samantha hotly as they let go of each other. “The coals are there for a reason, Tom. Don’t cheat and use your Gift. You know what happens when you do.”

Thomas raised his eyebrows, and when he spoke he sounded faintly amused. “If you insist,” he said, turning away and exiting through the back door. Samantha watched him leave and swallowed, turning slowly towards the staircase and making her way up. She opened the door to her mother’s bedroom and was greeted with an increasingly familiar unpleasant smell.

Damn, it’s struck through the bandage again.

“Hi Mum,” she said softly as she stepped inside, trying not to let her nose crinkle. Michelle did not respond, a dull look in her eyes as she stared straight ahead. Samantha swallowed, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment and turning around quickly to grab a fresh bandage. She stretched the material between her fingers and looked up at the ceiling, willing her eyes to stop watering.

Come on now. You can do this. You have to do this.

Taking a deep breath, she forced a smile and turned around, her cheeks hurting as she approached the bed.

“Let’s change that, shall we?” she said in a falsely cheery voice. Just a few weeks ago, if she’d tried using a voice like that on her mother she would’ve called her out on it immediately. That day, however, she did not respond. Instead she stared straight ahead, her pupils flicking upwards continuously. Taking another deep breath, Samantha set the fresh bandages down on the stool next to her bed and slowly helped her mother out of her nightgown so she could access the large wad of cloth that covered her chest. Gritting her teeth, Samantha pulled the old wrap off slowly, trying not to gag as she uncovered the the large, suppurative, cauliflower like-lesion that covered half of her left breast. Clearing her throat, Samantha gave it an obligatory wipe before reaching over and grabbing the fresh bandage. She covered the lesion up, trying to be as gentle as she could, but her mother still whimpered and rocked back and forth.

“There - there we go,” Samantha mumbled, when she’d wrapped the bandage around a further three times and pinned it together. “I - That’s better, isn’t it?”

Michelle mumbled something under her breath. Samantha listened carefully, hoping to hear her name or even Thomas’s, but her words were incomprehensible. A small tear rolled down her cheek before she could stop it. Sniffing, she helped Michelle back into her nightgown and sat down on the floor beside her, taking her mother’s hand and laying her head across the bed, nestling against her side. Samantha cried silently, eventually falling into a fitful sleep.

. . . .

She woke a few hours later, wincing as the moonlight shined directly into her eyes from the room’s only window. She sat up, rubbing her forehead and glancing over to her mother. She was sleeping now, her breathing slow but steady. Letting go of her hand, Samantha stood up, knowing what she must do. She tiptoed across the hall into her and Thomas’s bedroom, reaching under her mattress and pulling out the sword she kept there. She hid it under her coat, glancing at Thomas nervously. Samantha knew he was likely already aware of her night-time activities, but even so she felt obligated to try and hide it. Maybe it was pointless, but it was a topic she didn’t feel ready to bring up with him yet.

Her heart racing, she crept out of their bedroom and hurried downstairs and out of the house. She glanced around nervously and ran across the street to the nearby alleyway, keeping an eagle-eye out for any Gifted. Of course, she knew she was unlikely to run into them. Although a Gifted was supposed to patrol every night, more often than not they didn’t bother. It seemed they preferred to stay inside in the warmth rather than ensure the villagers didn’t get up to anything illegal. Samantha couldn’t help but wonder what the higher-up Gifted in the Council would think of that, but she hoped they never found out. After all, it was largely because of the lax Gifted rule that they were able to keep Thomas’s a Gift a secret. If they lived in a larger, stricter town like most of the factory villages, Samantha knew very well that he probably would have been discovered long ago.

Once she was sure there were no Gifted lurking about, Samantha took off for the forest surrounding the town, smiling at the familiarity of it as she made her way to the small clearing she’d been visiting regularly for over four years. Glancing around one last time to make sure she was alone, she took off her coat and placed her bag on the snowy ground next to a large, fallen tree trunk. Breathing deeply, she stepped into the clearing and assembled a simple fighting stance. She gripped her sword in her left hand, noting how comfortable it felt. She’d been practicing with her non-dominant hand for many months now, but only recently had it begun to feel as natural as using her right. Smiling, Samantha closed her eyes for a moment and imagined enemies all around her. She saw the Gifted, and a couple of villagers thrown in for good measure. Her heart racing, Samantha lunged forward, swinging her sword in a wide semicircle and cutting three throats in one. She ducked under a strike, thrusting the sword forward into her attacker’s belly. Gritting her teeth, Samantha bounced back to her feet and stepped up onto the fallen tree trunk, running to the end of it and jumping off. She swung her sword at the same time and took off a Gifted man’s arm, landing with a thud and quickly stepping to the side to avoid another enemy’s strike. She raised her sword to meet their second attack, kicking them in the belly at the same time. They fell back and she thrust her blade into their ribcage, spearing them into the ground. Having defeated all her imaginary enemies, Samantha pulled her sword out of the ground, breathing heavily.

I… Is there really much more for me to learn? At the very least, I’ve reached my limit practicing alone in the woods. Should I do it, then? Should I leave?

That was her goal, after all. Since receiving a sword from her mother on her fifteenth birthday, she’d been training alone at every opportunity. She hadn’t fully had an idea of what she wanted to do at first, but now she knew clearly. She wanted to leave her hometown behind and challenge the Gifted. By doing that, she hoped to possibly build a world where Thomas did not have to hide. Where he could live free, not under house arrest. And of course, she wanted a better life for herself too. Even though the small mountain village had been her home for over nineteen years, she’d never truly felt like she belonged. Perhaps out there, free from Gifted rule, she’d find a place where she fitted in completely.

Will I ever do it, though? Even when Mum’s gone, could… Could I actually bring myself to leave?

She smiled bitterly, sitting down on the fallen log and pulling her coat back on. Deep down, she knew she’d probably never have the courage to leave. Even if she told Thomas her idea and he agreed to come with her, Samantha doubted she would ever go through with it. After all, what proof did she have that the rest of the Island would be better? That she’d find a place where she truly belonged? With every passing day, it seemed less likely.

Shivering slightly, Samantha reached into her small bag and pulled out a flask of water. However, when she tried to take a sip she discovered it had half frozen from sitting in the snow. Rolling her eyes, she banged the metal against the log, trying unsuccessfully to break up the ice. Irritated, she shoved the flask back into the bag, pricking her finger on something sharp in the process. Cursing, she peeked inside and saw the strange-looking knife her mother had given to her just a few weeks ago. Her throat clenching, she took it out and turned it over in her hands. Apparently, it had originally belonged to her father. Because of that, her first instinct had been to throw it away; to bury it deep in the earth and never look at it again. But when she’d tried to do just that, she’d found herself unable to part with it. After all, regardless of who it originally belonged to, it was the last relic her mother would ever give her. With that in mind, how could she possibly get rid of it?

Scowling, Samantha pulled her knees close to her chest and glowered at the knife. She hated that her mother’s final gift was tainted by her father, a man she loathed more than all of the villagers combined. Although, she thought bitterly, she hadn’t always felt that way. When she was very little, before she learned the truth about what men were like, she’d loved the idea of him. She’d wondered who he was, where he was, and if he loved her in return. She had even asked her mother those very questions on multiple occasions. Michelle would usually give a generic answer, nothing substantial, although she did occasionally promise to tell Samantha more when she was older. But as the years passed, and she went to school and endured the other children’s taunts and saw the way the adult villagers treated her mother, her attitude changed. She realised the truth about him. After that, she stopped asking.

Sighing, Samantha stood up and stretched. Thinking about him made her feel restless, so she took off her coat again, ready for another round. However, before she could begin a loud rustle in the bushes behind her caught her attention. Her heart racing, she grabbed her sword and held it at the ready.

“Who’s there?” she demanded, her grey eyes narrowing. Another rustle sounded and a small, red-haired girl stepped into view, gripping a long stick tightly in her right hand. Samantha’s eyes widened and she lowered her sword quickly, hiding it behind her back.

What? Why is she out here?

The girl was one she knew, one who had lived in the same village she had for as long as either of them could remember. They had even been born in the same year, although Samantha was six months older. Still, because of their close age, they had often been paired together at school. Samantha had never had much patience for her then – she was excessively shy and almost dreamy at times, which annoyed Samantha to no end. Still, she’d never taunted her the way a lot of the other children did. She was one of the few who didn’t seem to care that Samantha was born out of wedlock. That might have had something to do with the fact that their mothers were good friends, and although Amelia had always been very cautious around Samantha, she’d never said anything cruel to her or Michelle.

If only I could remember her name, though… I remember her mother’s name, but for some reason I just can’t place one for her –

“S – Samantha?” the girl said uncertainly. Samantha bit her lip, her cheeks colouring slightly. Damn, she remembers my name. That makes this even more awkward.

“Um… Hi,” she muttered, racking her brains for anything that could help her remember. Think. You can do this. What did it start with? G, maybe? No, J. It was definitely J. But what was it?

“What are you doing out here?” the girl asked, oblivious to Samantha’s internal struggle. Her gaze was instead focussed on the sword.

“Just out for a walk,” said Samantha quickly, holding the weapon further behind her back. “What about you, um…”

She hesitated, deciding it was best to just take a stab at it. “Er… Julia?”

The girl blinked, her eyebrows knotting. She cleared her throat, looking away and staring at the ground. “It… It’s Janelle, actually.”

Samantha felt her cheeks reddening. Damn, I should’ve just kept quiet. “Oh, I... I’m so sorry. I really thought –“

“It’s okay,” she interrupted quickly. “I – Well, I know I’m not particularly memorable. Not like you.”

Samantha bit her lip, unsure how to respond. She wanted to say that of course Janelle was memorable, but since she’d just gotten her name completely wrong it wasn’t exactly the truth. In the end she simply gave a short nod, clearing her throat and shuffling over to the fallen tree trunk. She stashed the sword quickly behind it and sat down, patting the spot beside her. Janelle took the hint and perched next to her, still holding the long stick.

“So… How’s your mother doing?” asked Janelle. Samantha blinked, surprised she’d remembered. She recalled my mother was sick, but… I couldn’t even remember her name. What does that say about me?

“She… She’s not doing so good,” she muttered, shifting her feet. “She’s gotten a lot worse these past few weeks. She’s in so much pain, and – She doesn’t even recognise my brother and I any more. I…”

She paused, swallowing and tucking a strand of her dark hair behind her ear. “If I’m honest… There’s a part of me that thinks she’d be better off dead.”

Janelle nodded, reaching out and placing a hand on Samantha’s shoulder. The gesture was surprising, since they were hardly the best of friends, but Samantha found it comforting anyway.

 “I’m sorry,” said Janelle quietly. “I… I know she and my parents were good friends.”

Samantha nodded, closing her eyes and willing herself not to cry. “Thanks. I’m sorry too, by the way. I should’ve gone and told you at the time, but… I was really sorry to hear about your parents last year. I know Mum was upset, too.”

“Yeah, she visited me after they died,” said Janelle, the ghost of a sad smile spreading across her lips. “But thanks anyway.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, each lost in memory. Samantha glanced sideways at Janelle, realising how strange it felt to be sitting with her in the middle of the forest, bonding over shared grief. This was a girl she’d spent so many years being irritated by her very presence, but in that moment she felt closer to Janelle than she had to anyone else, aside from her family.

“So… I lied to you before,” she began quietly. “I wasn’t really out for a walk. Although you probably figured that, right?”

Janelle smiled slightly and gave a small nod. “Yeah, I did. The sword kind of gives it away. And I was watching you for a while before you noticed me.”

Samantha blinked, surprised that she hadn’t picked up on Janelle’s presence for so long. I guess I really need to work on my awareness, then, if she was able to sneak up on me that easily.

“Well…” Samantha said, hesitating. “I – What about you then? Why were you out here in the first place?”

Janelle swallowed, her green eyes shining in the moonlight. She stood up, and pointed at the long, knobbly stick she’d kept a hold of the entire time they’d been talking

“I’m the same as you,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “I was practicing. Although my sword’s not quite as impressive.”

She paused, sniffing and closing her eyes. Her hands shook slightly as she raised her stick. “But… I need to learn. I have to.”

“Why? I mean… You don’t seem like you’d be all that interested in sword-fighting.”

“I’m not,” she admitted. “I don’t enjoy it, but… I don’t have a choice. My – my sister…”

She took a deep, shuddering breath, tears starting to roll down her cheeks. “She was taken away two weeks ago. On Assessment Day.”

Samantha watched the other girl closely as she spoke, wondering if she should tell her that she knew she was lying. She knew her sister wasn’t really her sister. Samantha had seen her around with that boy, Alexander, a few months before Janelle and her mother disappeared from the public eye. When she emerged six months later, bringing a newborn baby to the village market she claimed was her sister, it hadn’t been hard for Samantha to put two and two together. Still, she couldn’t blame Janelle for keeping it a secret. If she made it publicly known that the baby was hers, she would have to carry the stigma of having a child out of wedlock for the rest of her life. The child would be deemed illegitimate and in their village that was a stain that could never be cleaned. Samantha knew only too well what it was like to carry that burden, and she couldn’t fault Janelle for trying to keep her daughter safe from it.

I suppose it’s better I just pretend I don’t know. It’ll probably be easier for her that way.

“I… I’m sorry to hear that,” Samantha said eventually, still lost in thought. “So – she turned out to be Gifted, then? Your sister, I mean.”

Janelle nodded, swallowing. “Yeah. The Assessor certainly thought so, anyway. I begged her not to do it, but – I couldn’t stop her. I tried, but – she was so strong, and fast, I… I never stood a chance.”

She paused, taking a deep breath. “So – that’s why I’m out here. I have to be stronger. I have to get her back.”

“So…” Samantha began, still working through it all in her mind. “Your plan is to get really good at sword-fighting and then… You’ll storm the Council? Alone?”

Janelle gave a small laugh, tears rolling down her cheeks at the same time. “I… Honestly, I don’t know. It’s absurd, isn’t it? I mean… Look at me. I’m just an ordinary, weak village girl. I’ll never get as good as them. And even if I could, there’s only one of me. I don’t stand a chance, I know it, but – I can’t just do nothing, you know? I have to try, even if it’s pointless. And not just for her, either, I… I want to stop this altogether. I don’t want anyone to feel how I felt when they took her away. But – Seriously, listen to me go. This is bloody insane. I’m talking about changing the way our government works like it’s something I could actually do. It’s ridiculous.”

“It’s not ridiculous,” said Samantha firmly, hesitating. “Listen, I –What if I teach you how to fight? I mean… I’m like you, I’m just an ordinary village girl, but I learnt. So can you.”

“You’re hardly ordinary, Samantha,” Janelle pointed out. “I mean… I was watching you for a while before you noticed me. You’re amazing. How did you learn all that? It’s extraordinary.”

Samantha blinked, her cheeks reddening as Janelle’s compliment struck a chord. In all honestly, she had no idea where her skills had come from. Making weapons had never perked her interest, despite it being her family’s trade. But using them… All she knew was that the first time she’d held a sword in her hand, it had felt so right. Like it was something she was born to do, something she could actually be great at.

“I – I suppose I just taught myself,” she said eventually, unsure if she should elaborate further. “It’s – It’s not so difficult, really. You’ll learn, like I did. My brother can make you a sword. I’m sure he will, if I ask him. And then… When we’re ready, we can leave this place for good. We can confront the Gifted, find your sister and change the world. We can make it a better place.”

Janelle smiled slightly, a spark in her eye that Samantha had never seen before. She shook her head, patting the other girl lightly on the shoulder. “What will we do then, though? We’ll still just be two girls against a whole army. No, we… We need to find followers, first. Surely there will be others like us. And after that, we – We can give it a try. I… I still don’t know if it’ll work. Maybe we’ll just die the first time we lay eyes on a Gifted, but – at least we’ll have done something.”

Samantha nodded, hesitating for a moment. Thomas’s image floated to the forefront of her mind. She’d never told him her desire to leave before. How would he react to her and Janelle’s crazy plan?

Maybe he’ll want to come with us. I mean… Life in this village isn’t that great for him either. But… Say we do leave and get a bunch of followers, could he really have a normal life among them either? What if he gives himself away as a Gifted – which is likely, seeing as he can’t really control his power. What will they do to him then?

“Samantha?” said Janelle uncertainly, interrupting her train of thought. She bit her lip, taking a deep breath and pushing thoughts of Thomas from her mind. She would sort that out later, once she’d had a chance to speak to him about it. She would figure it out somehow. Even if he came with them, but stayed hidden from the rest of the group, Samantha would keep him safe.

“I – Right,” she said quickly. “Sorry. We – we can start training now, if you like.”

Samantha stood up, reaching behind the log and picking up her sword. She offered it to Janelle, smiling tentatively. The other girl took it and her training began, on that first of many nights they would spend together in the forest over the next four years. In that moment, however, Samantha had no idea what the future would bring. She had no idea if she and Janelle would ever reach the point where they’d have the courage and skills to comfortably leave their hometown. But for the first time, her once seemingly impossible goal seemed reachable.

One day… Whether it’s a year from now or in fifty years, we’ll get there. I’m sure of it.

7: A Dutiful Woman

“Ma’am?” said a tentative female voice from outside her door. “Ma’am, are you awake?”

571 opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling. She was lying in her bed at the Council as she had been all night long, although she was fairly certain she had only had about thirty minutes of sleep. There was so much on her mind, after all. There had been for a long time.

“What’s this about?” she asked, rubbing her neck wearily as she sat up and stretched. She might have only been in her thirty-fourth year, but for the past couple of months she’d felt positively middle-aged.

“The Head Councilman wishes to speak with you, ma’am,” said the woman, who 571 guessed was a Servant. Her eyes widened and she sat up straighter, a chill running down her spine.

“What have I done now?” she blurted. “I – I haven’t…”

Her voice trailed off. She swallowed, standing up and striding over to the door. She opened it to reveal a female Servant, as she’d expected. The girl was young, perhaps in her early twenties, with thick blonde hair and a heart shaped face.

“He has some business he wants to discuss,” the girl clarified, looking up at the tall, older Gifted woman with a strangely forceful look in her eyes. It was slightly off-putting – after all, Servants were usually a lot timider. 571 usually didn’t pay the Servants much thought, but after everything that had happened in the last year, she found herself noticing them in a way she never had before. 

 “I… alright,” 571 said eventually, folding her arms across her chest subconsciously. “I’ll… I’ll just get myself properly dressed. I’ll be out in a minute.”

The girl nodded, stepping back slightly so she was leaning against the opposite wall. 571 turned back into her room and closed the door, her heart racing beneath her chest.

I… I’m sure it’s nothing. He’ll just be sending me on a mission of some kind. If they were going to punish me, they would’ve done it already.

Swallowing, she walked stiffly to her wardrobe and took out a fresh uniform. Stepping out of her grey nightgown, she pulled the clothes on and tied the laces of her slightly too small boots. When she was dressed, she sat down in front of the mirror and reached for a brush. She paused for a moment, staring into the reflective surface blankly. She looked into her own blue-green eyes, wondering briefly if she’d always seemed so tired, or if it was something new. Her thick, curly red hair was tousled and oily-looking, while any hint of a smile on her lips was long gone. Sighing, she reached up and tugged her hair into a tight pony-tail, tying it back carefully with a piece of string.

There’s no point thinking like this. He’s gone. You’ll never see him again, so – Just stop this. You’re Gifted. You have to be stronger.

The problem was, a part of her wasn’t sure how she was supposed to feel. It wasn’t like she’d ever wanted the child in the first place. It just wasn’t part of the Gifted lifestyle, after all. Because of that, it had taken her a while to notice – she didn’t know much about pregnancy, after all. It was only when she started gaining weight that she put the pieces together. Fearing for both the child and herself, she’d tried to get rid of it. She’d made herself terribly sick and almost died in the process, but the baby survived regardless. It hadn’t taken long for the Gifted to figure out her secret after that. They carted her back to the Council and hid her away until she gave birth. That had been two months ago, but she still found herself haunted by the memory.

“Ma’am?” The Servant said loudly from outside. 571 blinked and stood up, hurrying towards the door.

“Sorry,” she muttered as she stepped outside the room, closing the door behind herself. “I’m ready now.”

The Servant nodded and started down the corridor. 571 followed quickly, her heart starting to pound as they made their way through the winding passageways of the Council. What could the Head Councilman want with her? She had behaved exactly as she was supposed to since giving birth. She’d thrown herself into her training, waiting for the day the Council would send her back out with the rest of the Gifted. As far as she could tell, she hadn’t shown a hint of the doubt and confusion she felt inside publicly.

No. It must just be a mission or something like that. It’s not – that’s all it could be.

Still, despite her attempts to reassure herself, her stomach twisted on itself as she followed the Servant through the corridors. Eventually they stopped outside a set of large, mahogany double doors – the entrance to the Council’s chambers. 571’s heart raced as the Servant pushed the doors open, revealing a large room with deep red walls and wooden floorboards the same dark colour as the door. There was a large table spanning almost the entire of the room, with twenty-five or so chairs spaced evening along it’s length. The Servant led her to the other side of the room, where three men were sitting, muttering quietly amongst themselves. One of the men, a tall, balding man with a nose that had been broken in multiple places, wore the pure white uniform of the Council. The grey patterns on his sleeves indicated he was a Gift of Air and the small, slightly battered star-shaped golden broach pinned to his chest gave away his position as the Head Councilman – the second most powerful man on the Island after the Leader himself. However, unlike the Leader, he hadn’t been born with Potential. Instead, he had been elected by his fellow Councilmen and women to be their representative. As a result, it was his job to oversee the day to day running of the Gifted. The Leader had far more important matters to confer to.

The Head Councilman bowed his head slightly as 571 and the Servant entered, his bright green eyes lingering on the younger woman for a moment.

“Thank you,” he said, reaching out and touching the Servant’s wrist for a brief moment while 571 sat down. “You may return to my rooms. I won’t need you until later.”

The Servant bowed her head, swallowing. “Yes, sir,” she said quietly, turning around and hurrying back to the door. The Councilman watched her leave in silence for a moment while 571 glanced at the other two Gifted. One was a dark haired man a few years older than her with blue patterns on his sleeves, the other blonde and much younger, probably nineteen or twenty. She had seen him before – he was a Gift of Fire, like herself. Still, they had never exchanged any kind of meaningful conversation. She couldn’t even remember his number.

“I have a mission for you,” said the Councilman eventually, leaning forward and clasping his hands together. 571 blinked and shook her head slightly, tearing her eyes away from the two Gifted men and turning her attention to the older man. “There’s been some trouble with rebels down in villages 13 and 14. I already sent three people down there, but… Well, from reports we’ve received in the last few days it seems there’s more than we first thought. The three of you are to join them and see if you can find the group and eliminate them.”

“What kind of rebels are they?” said the Gift of Water, sounding almost bored. “Do they have any kind of credibility?”

The Councilman shrugged.  “It doesn’t seem like it. They’re just a bunch of angry vandals. It shouldn’t take much to get rid of them, but… Well, it’s best to be cautious.”

“So what’s the plan, then?” asked the younger man. “Will we just go down there and join the other group?”

“Essentially,” said the Head Councilman dryly. “6559 – he’s the man in charge of the group down there – sent us a message. They’ve scoped out the area and found the sanctuary they’re associated with, although he said they’re camping out now. Anyway, there’s around twenty, he said. They just wanted a few more Gifted before they mount an attack. Otherwise, everything looks pretty run of the mill. They don’t seem overly talented or threatening. We just need to deal them a good hard blow and they should fade away.”

He paused, glancing at the two Gifts of Fire. “Anyway, I should introduce you. 712 –“ He nodded at the Gift of Water – “This is 571 and 4340. They’ll be accompanying you down to the farming villages involved. If you take a carriage you should be there in a couple of days. I imagine you’ll be back here in a couple of weeks, tops. It won’t take long to dispose of them.”

712 stood up and shook hands with the two Gifts of Fire while the Head Councilman flicked through the papers in front of him. He frowned slightly when he reached one of them, glancing at the three Gifted.

“Anyway, I have more important matters to attend to,” he said, standing up and gathering the papers together while he cleared his throat. “712, I trust you’ll go down and make sure the carriage is ready? You’ll be leading this mission, of course.”

The Gift of Water stood up and bowed deeply. “Thank you, sir. I’ll do the Council proud.”

He paused, glancing at the two Gifts of Fire. “Pack a bag quickly and meet me at the stables. We’ll be leaving as soon as we’re all ready.”

6559 nodded and stood up right away. 571 hesitated, glancing at the Head Councilman briefly. She cleared her throat before continuing.

“I… I’ll be along in a bit,” she said uncertainly. “I… I just need to clarify something.”

712 nodded, glancing at the door and beckoning the younger Gift of Fire to follow him. When the two of them were gone, 571 took a deep breath and approached the Head Councilman, who was still frowning down at the sheet of paper at the very top of the pile.

“Are…” she began uncertainly, shifting her feet. “Excuse me, sir, I know it’s not my place, but… I was just wondering. Are you sure it’s alright to send me on this mission? I haven’t exactly been…”

Her voice trailed off. “You – you do know, sir, don’t you? They told you, right?”

“Of course they did,” said the Head Councilman dryly, glancing at the doorway again. Clearly, he was hankering to leave. “But it doesn’t matter now. You’re hardly the first woman in this position, after all. Our regulations say you’re ready to re-join Gifted society after two months, and that time has now passed. What use would it be to us to keep you out of action for any longer?”

“But –“

“Besides,” the Head Councilman continued, his brown eyes narrowing slightly. “It’s not like I’m making you head of the mission. That’s something you shouldn’t expect in the future, by the way. What you did might not have been a capital crime, or even one deserving of severe punishment… But still, your actions reflect poor self control. We’ll be watching you closely from now on, okay? Make sure to improve yourself.”

“Yes sir,” said 571 quietly, bowing. He gave her a short nod, picked up his file of papers and strode to the other side of the room. 571 followed him quickly, thanking him once before hurrying through the corridors back to her room. She packed a bag as instructed, her heart pounding in her ears as she joined the two other Gifted at the stables. They travelled to the farming villages for three days in a carriage led by two large draft horses. Throughout their entire journey, 571 kept to herself, barely speaking to the two Gifted men or the Servant accompanying them. By the time they arrived in village 14, she had been so preoccupied that she barely even remembered their numbers. After all, how could she focus when she knew the Council were likely watching her very closely to see how she handled being out in the real world again? It had been such a long time since she’d been out in the villages, and here she was, expected to pick right up where she left off even after everything that had happened.

Once arriving at the village, she and the two Gifted men were introduced to the three Gifted who’d already been on the case for a month. 6559, the man in charge of the mission, was a short man in his forties with the Gift of Air. He was accompanied by a young, small woman with the Gift of Earth and a man around 571’s age with the Gift of Air as well. Their mission was clear, 6559 explained – the rebels had left the sanctuary and were constantly on the move, but they knew they were somewhere in the forest adjacent to villages 14 and 13. All they had to do was eliminate the group and their troubles would be over.

When night fell, the six Gifted set off on their mission. They split up to search through the forest, looking for any sign of the rebels. The first to find them would send up a signal of some kind and the other five were to follow immediately. It was a quiet night and very chilly, but 571 found herself rather enjoying the task. She barely felt the cold, after all, and getting to wander around outside was quite refreshing after spending so long cooped up in the Council. A part of her hoped they wouldn’t run into the rebels at all, so she could just keep wandering in the moonlight. She told herself that if the rebels were smart, they would have moved on rather than stay in the same area they’d been vandalising. That was just common sense, after all.

However, despite 571’s hopes, her peaceful night was soon to be interrupted. After an hour of trudging through the forest, she heard someone muttering nearby. Her heart pounding, she ducked behind a nearby bush, peering out in the direction of the voice to get a better look. Instead of a group of twenty rebels, like she’d been told, there was only one man. He was sitting with his back against a tree, staring out into the forest surrounding them. He was young, probably in his early twenties, and 571 might have thought of him as handsome if it hadn’t been for the horrible scars distorting the left side of his face. His left ear was missing and his left eye partly closed from the swollen, deformed skin on his forehead, giving him a permanently lopsided look. Beside him was a small blonde girl. She was nestled against his leg and sleeping soundly, covered almost entirely by a large pile of tattered coats. The man himself was wearing nothing but a thin brown shirt and trousers despite the winter chill. Oddly, despite his overall lack of winter clothing he was wearing a pair of gloves. His lips were taut, probably from the cold, but his deep brown eyes darted around the forest, his fingers resting over the hilt of a cheap-looking, battered sword. 571 knew she should leave her hiding place and demand the two of them tell her why they were there. After all, the man was clearly a rebel with an illegal weapon, and the child… Whoever she was, she was outside the villages and 571 highly doubted she had permission to be so. That itself was a crime punishable by death, and it was her duty to be the executioner.

Come on, go. You have to. This is the Gifted way, and – if you don’t, then you’re –

The snap and crunch of a twig caught her and the young man’s attention immediately. His hand tightened around the hilt of his sword and he leaned over, partially shielding the blonde girl with his body. His dark brown eyes narrowed and he stared directly towards the noise. 571’s heart pounded, expecting to see one of her Gifted colleagues emerge from the shrubbery. Instead, a small blonde woman in nonGifted clothing stepped into view, smiling and raising her eyebrows.

“I didn’t realise I was that scary,” she said almost playfully as he relaxed and leaned back against the tree. “Why aren’t you at the camp with the others? I got back there and they said you’d wandered off with Alice.”

“They’re too noisy,” the man said with a small shrug. His voice was deeper than 571 had expected. “Ali couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d take her somewhere quieter.”

The woman grinned, shaking her head as she knelt beside him. She placed a hand on the scarred side of his face and kissed him gently.

“That’s fair, but you could’ve told them where you were going,” she murmured, leaning against his side and nuzzling into his neck. “Alistair said you just walked off without saying a thing.”

The man said nothing at first, instead reaching out with one hand and pushing her away gently. “Don’t distract me,” he said solemnly. “I’m keeping watch.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” said the woman softly, slipping her hand under his shirt and stroking her fingers slowly over his at his belt. “Here I was, thinking I’d give my husband a bit of a good time…”

“I – Marina…” 571 looked away quickly, her cheeks reddening slightly. She needn’t have worried, however, as the woman started to laugh.

“I’m just teasing you, Caleb,” she said, leaning back and smirking at him. “As if I’m gonna start getting all handsy with you when Ali’s right here.”

He stared at her for a moment, his expression strangely impassive. To 571’s surprise, the woman smiled up at him like he’d expressed some kind of affection. She glanced down at the girl, leaning into his side once more and drawing her arms around his waist.

“How’s she been, anyway?” said the woman, watching the sleeping toddler.

The man shrugged. “She fell asleep pretty quickly. She complained about being outside and not having a bed, but… Well, there’s not much we can do about that. Trevor won’t let us back, I already tried asking him. There’s too many Gifted in the area, so he’s scared we’ll attract them to his place.”

“So instead, he sends a little girl out to suffer in the cold,” said the woman hotly. 571 shifted, biting her lip uneasily as they mentioned the Gifted and reminded her of what she was supposed to be doing – punishing rebels for being outside the villages. At the same time, a sudden gust of air burst through the treetops a short distance away. 571’as eyes widened as she realised what it meant – one of the other Gifted had found the camp.

“What was that?” the rebel woman whispered hurriedly, scrambling to her feet and quickly lifting the sleeping girl into her arms. The man stood up too and reached for his sword, holding it at the ready.

“Mummy…” the girl mumbled, burrowing further into the pile of coats while the woman shushed her, her eyebrows knotting anxiously.

“Caleb,” she whispered, holding the toddler close to her body. “Can you see anyone?”

He didn’t answer right away, his deep brown eyes surveying the woods before them carefully.

“No, but… You should go back,” he said in a low voice, glancing back at her briefly. “Tell Alistair and Ingrid and the others to start packing.”

Biting her lip, the blonde woman nodded and hurried off in the opposite direction, shushing the girl frantically as she started to cry. 571 glanced at the hilt of her sword, swallowing back the lump in her throat. Even though they were rebels, a part of her heart ached at the sight of the woman carrying her baby directly towards the danger, although she didn’t know it. After all, 571 knew the signal could only mean one thing – the Gifted had already found their camp. She knew it was her duty to jump out of the bushes and attack the man directly – she had sat and watched him long enough. Now was the time to do her duty.

I have to do this. I’m Gifted, I… I have to prove to myself, once and for all, that I can do this. That I can live this life without any second thoughts. It’s what I was born to do.

Closing her eyes for a moment, she started to draw her blade, ready to spring into action. Before she could however, she heard a familiar harsh clang of metal. Opening her eyes, she saw 3372, the Gift of Earth, fighting him. It was clear he was outmatched; the Gifted woman was far stronger and better trained, but the rebel was just managing to fend off her strikes. Biting her lip, 571 drew her sword properly and ran out to join her colleague.

“She went that way!” 3372 yelled as she kicked the rebel man in the stomach. He fell to the ground, winded. “There was a woman, before. Follow her! I’ll take this one, easy!”

571 swallowed, wishing more than ever that she could be back in the Council in her room. Trying her best to tune out the rebel man’s shouts, she turned around and ran through the forest after the blonde woman, jumping over tree roots and dodging around trunks expertly. She could do this. She could close off her mind to everything she was feeling and be the perfect Gifted citizen. It didn’t matter how tired she was, or how much she wanted things to be different. Her destiny was clear, as it always had been.

By the time she reached the camp, it was already ablaze. About fifteen or so bodies were scattered throughout the smoking camp, all of them rebels. Five more rebels were still alive fighting the rest of her Gifted comrades. 571 could not see the blonde woman anywhere, a fact she felt strangely relieved about. One of the fighting rebels, another woman, was far more skilled than the rest of the rebels combined. She was fighting 712 and 6559 at the same time, dodging around their strikes with ease. She was strangely graceful with the way she moved her sword, circling around the two Gifted while her long brown hair rippled in the wind. Occasionally she would close in on them and make a quick jab with her blade, most of which they managed to dodge. One of her strikes made contact with 712’s belly and he swore loudly as he stepped backwards, clutching at his wound while 6559 stepped forward and shielded him from the woman’s next attack. 571 bit her lip, momentarily stumped as she watched the woman fight. There was no doubt in her mind that if her sword had been of good quality, she may very well have killed 712 rather than merely grazing his abdomen. The woman kicked 6559 directly in the stomach, sending him backwards with such force that he toppled directly into 712, sending them both crashing to the ground. Turning slowly, her eyes flashed when she saw 571 standing at the edge of the camp. Swallowing, the Gifted woman raised her sword, resigning herself to what was about to happen. She ran forward and swung her blade through the air, shooting a stream of flames from her other palm. The rebel woman ducked quickly to the side to avoid getting burnt, the tip of 571’s sword slicing through the muscle of her lower left arm. She swore as blood oozed from the wound but it barely slowed her down. The rebel jabbed her sword towards 571, who only just managed to step backwards quickly enough to avoid getting stabbed through the stomach. Swallowing, she glanced behind herself and saw a young, dark haired man running towards her back. Whirling around, 571 reached out as he came close and grabbed his arm. Closing her eyes for a moment, she set his body on fire, keeping a tight grip on him as he screamed with pain. Tears welled behind her eyelids, both from the smoke and his terrible cries, she dropped his corpse as soon as she was sure he was dead and blocked another strike from the rebel woman, sweeping her foot beneath her legs so she toppled over. 571 gritted her teeth and pressed her boot into the woman’s back, ready to stab her through the chest. To her surprise, the woman managed to manipulate her uninjured arm out from under herself and grabbed onto 571’s ankle, flicking it sideways with surprising force. 571 staggered to the side, managing to keep herself upright but allowing the rebel woman to scramble to her feet. The dark-haired woman glared at 571, blood slowly dripping from the ends of her fingers. She raised her sword again, but before she could attack 712 sent a powerful stream of water her way, knocking her off her feet. She rolled over and sprang back up, water dripping from her hair as she turned her attention to him. 571 glanced around the camp. There was one rebel left fighting; a man who was faring a lot worse than his comrade. It wasn’t long before the young Gift of Fire who 571 couldn’t remember the number of finished him off. When the rebel was dead, the Gift of Fire turned and joined 712. The rest of the Gifted were nowhere to be seen – 571 realised they were most likely chasing after any escaped rebels. She turned around, deciding she should probably go and seek out survivors too, but she stopped dead in her tracks when she saw who was standing before her. The scarred man from earlier had returned to the camp. His sword and his shirt were splattered with blood – it clearly wasn’t his, but even so, his hands shook so badly he was barely able to hang onto his sword. His dark brown eyes darted around the smoking camp, taking in all the bodies and debris. He stayed rooted to the spot, barely glancing at 571 even though she was an enemy standing only a few feet away.

 The Gifted woman bit her lip as she watched him closely. She knew if she wanted to she could probably stride right over to him and kill him easily without a second thought. Given the state he was in, she highly doubted he’d put up much of a fight. Taking a deep breath and burrowing any doubt she felt deep down inside, 571 adjusted her grip on her sword and strode towards the rebel. She raised her left hand and sent a stream of flames in his direction, which he just managed to jump away from. Shaking his head slightly, the man sheathed his sword and set off, running through the trees. 571 swallowed and ran after him as he jumped over tree roots and changed direction constantly. He shouted a word she didn’t recognise over and over again as he ran. 571 kept pace with him easily, her heart thudding under her chest. She had no idea what he was doing or why, but still, she knew she couldn’t just let him go.

“Caleb!” she heard someone call from a distance, although she had no idea what the word meant. 571 stopped running when rebel man did, her shoulders heaving. The blonde woman ran towards him, still carrying the girl in her arms. The scarred man dropped his sword and hugged her tightly, kissing the toddler on her forehead. He glanced back at 571 and placed his hands on the woman’s shoulders, muttering something she couldn’t hear as they started to run. He didn’t even remember to pick up his sword. 571 watched them go, hesitating.

They… They’ve learnt their lesson now, surely. I don’t… I can let them go. Can’t I? Most of their group had died back at the camp, after all. She highly doubted they’d think about joining another rebel group again after the destruction caused this time. She was still trying to decide what to do when she heard a set of heavy footsteps approaching her from behind. Thinking it was the dark-haired rebel woman again, she drew her sword quickly and turned around, relaxing when she saw 712 standing before her.

“Have you seen any more?” he said breathlessly, leaning over and wiping sweat from his forehead. 571 swallowed, glancing over her shoulder quickly. She was relieved to see the three rebels had slipped out of sight.

“I… I haven’t seen anyone,” she lied, folding her arms across her chest. “What about you? Did the woman…”

Her voice trailed off. 712 shook his head, his dark eyebrows narrowing slightly. “No, she got away,” he said slowly, absentmindedly reaching for the wound she’d inflicted on his stomach. “But… There’s seventeen dead, in total. And that’s not even counting the ones who ran. Some of them must have been picked off too. Still, even if they al survived I’d call it a victory. They won’t be troubling us again, I’m sure.”

“Yeah,” 571 muttered, avoiding his gaze. Rebels or not, the idea of so many young men and women losing their lives did not fill her with much joy. Her stomach twisted itself in knots at the shame of that feeling. “I – I’m sorry, I’m not… I should be –“

“It’s alright,” 712 interrupted. She looked up at him and was surprised to see he was staring back at her with an almost haunted look in his eyes. “It’s – let’s just find the others and go back. We’ve done our duty, haven’t we? That’s all we need to do.”

571 nodded, shifting her feet slightly as she noted the resignation in his voice. It reminded her uncomfortably of herself. Shaking her head, she swallowed and pushed any doubts she had from her mind as they made their way back to the camp in silence. She tried so hard to think of their victory and what it meant for the Gifted, but instead she found herself thinking of the rebels she’d let go. Despite the shame it filled her with, she hoped with all her might they had gotten away. A part of her couldn’t believe what she’d done – it was a small thing, sure, and the Gifted would likely never find out, but she’d gone against her duty. She knew why she had done it, of course – it was the girl, plain and simple.

She… I don’t know why, but - she reminded me so much of… Well, of him.

Her eyes started to water, but she swallowed and wiped the tears away quickly before they’d had a chance to fall. This is ridiculous, but… I wish I’d at least gotten a chance to see him properly. She’d only caught a quick glimpse as the medical Servant took the child away. All she had seen was a small baby with a tuft of black hair wrapped tightly in a thin grey blanket, their face screwed up as they wailed in the Servant’s arms. In truth, she didn’t even know if he really was a he. They hadn’t told her the gender. It wasn’t an important fact for her know.

He – or she – is a Servant now. He was always a Servant. He was never mine.

Swallowing hard, she clenched her fingers tightly into fists and forced herself to look straight ahead. Right then and there, she vowed to herself that she would never make such a mistake again. The Head Councilman was right, after all – her actions showed her poor judgment and self control. She would push any doubts she had far away and do her duty, no matter what it meant. If she couldn’t do that, then she was nothing. It was a difficult truth, but one she had to live with.